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My Wife, The Killer's Keeper

Chapter 4 

Word Count: 521    |    Released on: 17/06/2025

hospital bed, d

truction workers fou

severe card

had p

iend, had somehow been alerted. He' d

fter my own survival was con

use of death ha

induced by ext

it occurred on the

eas, the day Marcus taunted me

broken my mother's heart, even if Marcus's

was a bi

s of the knife at auctio

s confession to me. No

arged me, still weak, st

e mansion, the place I

was quiet,

m in the ma

and M

our

n' t expe

sheets around her, a flash of an

ging back against the pil

harp. "What are you doing here? I

my voice raspy. "

able, so blatant, fueled a fr

straight at Marcus. "He confessed it

ons? Marcus has been my rock through all this. He e

parody of sympa

Though, given the state she was found in... perhaps

d, a low,

her tongue," I pressed, my v

wrapping a robe

en nothing but supportive. He' s even helping me man

repeated, the word a

assie. And you' re

lappe

a

hissed. "Get ou

smug, triumphant

raved hunting knife

mily he

humb along

an. You should go.

hard truth

ost eve

My wife.

g in my bed, holding the m

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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