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My Wife, The Killer's Keeper

Chapter 2 

Word Count: 514    |    Released on: 17/06/2025

ed, a sea of tuxedos

ir thick with expensive perfume and the low hu

ed the room,

element, Marcus Vance at her elb

mach c

o talk to

s was alw

s announced, m

spotlight, its polished steel gleaming,

eer began t

ed my

, a few co

ddle went up, smo

rice

y savings, eve

licker of surprise, the

n, whispered so

a cold, dis

went up aga

hig

to catch her eye, to

ame. This was my

er called fo

I couldn' t

lovely Cassa

lau

eached her side as Marcus was

y voice hoarse. "That knife

r champagne,

diculous. What are y

t killed my mother,

d, a concerned frown

rloom. It was stolen years ago. I was shocked to see it s

ssive hand on

im, the lie so blatant, so cruel. "My

Ethan. You' re making a scene. Marcus has been n

rd was a slap. "M

By making wild accusations at my event?" She ge

fleeting, predator

m the display table where

letting the ligh

" he said, his voice soft, almost a

ectly at me,

treasure

k on me, laughing at

standing there, the weight of

olding the weapon, and

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My Wife, The Killer's Keeper
My Wife, The Killer's Keeper
“My life was simple, if not exactly thrilling. An ex-Army Ranger, now a mechanic, living with my CEO wife, Cassie, in a world miles from my own. Then the call came, shattering everything: my mother, an intrepid investigative journalist, brutally murdered, dismembered, her eyes gouged out, her tongue cut. The police couldn't find a lead until security footage revealed the custom-engraved hunting knife – and then, I saw it, advertised for auction by my own wife's company. My wife, Cassie, bought the very weapon for her charismatic executive assistant, Marcus Vance – the man my mother had been investigating. He taunted me with vivid details of her torture, laughing as he had me beaten, then imprisoned in our home' s steel-reinforced panic room, my own wife convinced I was simply 'unstable.' Just when I thought it couldn't get worse, Marcus brought in an urn. My mother' s ashes, he casually explained, would make a 'strong, durable, permanent' foundation for our driveway. The ultimate desecration, a final, horrifying insult that crushed me. How could my life, my family, have fallen to such depravity? But in that moment of absolute despair, something shifted. A Ranger doesn' t break. I escaped, battered and bleeding, making a desperate pilgrimage to Washington D.C. There, at the steps of the Department of Justice, I collapsed, but not before leaving my father' s Medal of Honor and a bloody handprint – a silent, defiant cry for justice against the monsters in my own home.”
1 Introduction2 Chapter 13 Chapter 24 Chapter 35 Chapter 46 Chapter 57 Chapter 68 Chapter 79 Chapter 810 Chapter 911 Chapter 10