There's a saying, "Illicit affairs always lead to death."
Karma, huh?
The police showed me the photos from the scene, and honestly, they were hard to look at.
Neither of them had a stitch of clothing left on. Gianna's hands were even tied with a belt.
She also had something stuffed in her mouth, so I asked the officer, "What is that?"
The officer, looking embarrassed, scratched his head. "It's a pair of red women's underwear."
Tsk tsk. A toad trying to be a frog, ugly but kinky. How scandalous!
I looked at Waylon, still in the ICU, and shook my head.
Then, I glanced at Gianna, already dead and swollen from all the water she'd swallowed.
Waylon used to complain about me all the time, calling me a "washed-up old lady" while he praised Gianna's soft, delicate skin.
Well, now she's puffed up like a balloon. Guess she's soft, alright. Squeeze her, and a whole lot of water would come out.
One's dead, the other's comatose.
The doctor was explaining the treatment options, but I cut him off.
"Doc, I know you've done your best. It's not your fault he's dead."
"No need to keep treating Waylon. Pull the plug. We're broke."
The doctor looked confused, as if he couldn't believe what he was hearing.
"But Ms. Kelly, we could still try to save him…"
I sighed and gave him my best bitter smile.
"Doc, take a look at my bank account. There's not a single penny in there."
"I'm not being heartless. It's just that he spent all our money on his mistress and didn't leave a dime for me or our daughter."
"Gianna's dead, and Waylon's in a coma, so there's no one left to tell me the bank passwords. I have no way to get the money to save him."
The doctor saw the tears and snot streaming down my face and gave me a look of pity.
But I wasn't lying. Waylon, that scumbag, had transferred all our cash and property into Gianna's name to force me to leave the marriage empty-handed.
He probably would've handed me and our daughter over to Gianna, too, if he could!
There's a saying, "Always leave a way out, so you can meet again in the future."
Too bad, Waylon. You're not going to see anything ever again.
Since I couldn't pay for the hospital fees, the doctor contacted Waylon's mom, Nova Powell, back in the countryside.
Nova, without hesitation, wired over 300,000 dollars.
Well, well, turns out I'm the only one in the family who's broke!
Then Nova screamed at me over the phone, calling me a curse that ruined her son's life.
"If anything happens to my boy, I swear I'll skin you alive!" she shouted before slamming the phone down.
Oh, right. I forgot Waylon's not dead yet!
Better to act now before things get worse. It's just like the old saying goes.
That night, I sent my daughter Zoe to stay with a friend for a while and borrowed some money from her.
I hired the best lawyer in town.
Ivy Ross said, "If you have solid evidence of an affair during the marriage, the court can rule that the guilty party gets little to no property."
I asked, "So, if he's dead, would it be easier to recover everything he gave to the mistress?"
Ivy looked shocked but nodded. "Yes, in the case of a spouse's death, that's possible."
Satisfied, I rushed to the hospital.
Nova was probably on her way, but it would take at least five hours by train from the village.
I had to take care of Waylon before she got here.
After Nova paid the 300,000 for hospital fees, the hospital had pulled out all the stops to keep Waylon alive.
But he was barely hanging on, and could die any minute.
Just like now, as I pressed down on his oxygen tube.
Goodbye, my dear dead husband!
The earlier a husband dies, the better life gets. Soon, I'd be a happy widow.
He was gone by noon, and the ashes were ready by the afternoon.
After collecting the ashes and heading home, I got a call from Ivy saying the evidence I provided was all set, and we could start preparing to reclaim the property from Gianna.
I was so excited I threw the urn aside and jumped onto the bed to roll around.
The three greatest joys in life: a dead husband, a financial windfall, and a casket ready to go.
I had them all!
The $38 plastic urn was surprisingly sturdy. It rolled across the floor and only stopped when it hit the table leg.
Just yesterday, in this very spot, Waylon had beaten me because I hadn't made Gianna the seafood dinner she wanted.
He'd grabbed my head and slammed it into the corner of the table over and over until I was covered in welts.
Meanwhile, Gianna was sitting in a chair scrolling through her phone, pouting, "Oh Waylon, look at all that blood. You're scaring me." She even clutched her chest for dramatic effect.
Waylon gave her a sleazy grin and said, "Haha, babe, I've got scarier things for you. Let's go somewhere private, and I'll show you."
She giggled, "Oh stop, you're so bad. Your wife's right here."
Well, it sure was scary. Even a seasoned driver can forget to pull the handbrake and end up in a lake.
That bastard Waylon couldn't even die without causing trouble. The lake he drove into was a private fish pond in the neighboring village.
He killed 500 fish when his car went in, and I had to pay 5,000 dollars in compensation.
Ugh, the more I thought about it, the angrier I got. I grabbed the urn and smashed it hard onto the floor.
It made a dull thud, but that cheap plastic urn was surprisingly tough, not even a crack.
Waylon was lucky. Even in death, he got a decent place to rest!
When our old house was being demolished, Waylon wanted more money from the government, so he took our daughter to stay in that run-down old place.
The compensation they offered was already generous, but Waylon thought it wasn't enough.
He forced our daughter to live in the house to stop the demolition.
Since we were the only ones left in the area, with no water or electricity, Zoe passed out from heatstroke.
If the construction team hadn't found her in time, she might not have made it.
By the time I rushed home, Waylon wasn't even staying at the old place.
He was in our air-conditioned bedroom, in bed with Gianna.
Now that Waylon was dead, I could happily move forward with the government deal.
I took my ID and other documents and handled all the paperwork in one go.
The old house was demolished smoothly, and the compensation money would be transferred directly to my account. All I had to do was wait for the payment.
The government workers and the construction crew, who had been dealing with Waylon's stubbornness for so long, were relieved to see me agree to the demolition so easily.
They shook my hand, saying, "Thank you, Ms. Kelly, for supporting the government's work."
They even insisted on giving me two gallons of cooking oil and ten pounds of eggs as a token of appreciation.
I responded cheerfully, "It's our duty as citizens to support the government."
See? Since Waylon died, everyone's been so nice to me.
I happily headed home with my cooking oil and eggs.
I checked the time. It wouldn't be long before Nova arrived to stir up more trouble. I'd better rest up.
I had been running around nonstop for days without a proper break, and soon I drifted off to sleep.
Not long after, at around 3 p.m., Nova was banging on my door, yelling, "Gianna! Get out here! I know you're in there! You cursed my son and now he's dead, and you're here sleeping peacefully!"
Still groggy, I got up, listening as Nova ranted and raved, her insults flying at me and my whole family.
Peeking out the window, I noticed she wasn't alone. She'd brought along a chubby boy who looked about ten years old.
Judging by his size, he was around 4 feet 5 inches and close to 200 pounds. He looked like a walking barrel.
In my rural hometown, we'd call him a "big ol' tub."
I couldn't help but wonder. Was this Waylon and Gianna's illegitimate son? He was even older than Zoe!
But looking at the kid's face, it wasn't that he didn't resemble Waylon.
It was more like there was absolutely no resemblance whatsoever.
Aside from being male, there was no way you could say he looked anything like Waylon. It was hard to say if he was even Waylon's kid.
Nova's shouting had attracted a crowd of nosy neighbors, and even some folks from the upper floors were craning their necks to watch the scene.
Seeing the attention she was getting, Nova plopped down in front of my door and started wailing.
"Oh, how did my life get this miserable? I worked so hard raising my son, only for him to be cursed by this witch! Now he's lying in the hospital, and I don't know if he'll live or die."
"This wretched woman won't even take care of her own husband, just lying in her bed like nothing happened!"
"What a tragedy! If something happens to my boy, I'll hang myself right here!"
Nova's cries were loud enough to shake the heavens and wake the dead, but her accusations were pure nonsense.
She claimed I'd cheated on Waylon with another man and was now trying to steal Waylon's property. What a joke. She didn't even bother to make her lies sound convincing.
I glanced down at the urn containing Waylon's ashes and gave it a little kick. "Why aren't you getting up to defend your mother?"
I hadn't had a peaceful day since marrying Waylon.
After Zoe was born, things only got worse. Waylon's verbal and physical abuse became a regular occurrence.
Nova wasn't any better, always chiming in with, "The Jenkins family's had sons for three generations, and you're going to be the one to break that tradition?"
She'd even pinch Zoe when I wasn't around, leaving bruises all over her delicate skin.
One time, Zoe accidentally broke a bottle of Waylon's whiskey, and he slapped her so hard her face was swollen for three days.
Nova, of course, stood by his side, egging him on, "That useless little brat's just like her worthless mother! You're right to hit her, son!"
Just thinking about all this made my blood boil. I jumped out of bed, grabbed Waylon's urn, and threw open the door.
Outside, Nova was spitting all over the place, wildly gesturing as she told the gathered crowd a story about how I'd cheated on Waylon and gotten caught, causing him to drive into the lake.
She spoke as if she'd witnessed the whole thing herself!
The moment she saw me open the door, she sprang to her feet, pointing at me and shouting.
"Look, everyone! This is the tramp who cheated on her husband, seduced her boss, and caused my son to drive into the lake!"
"My poor boy, who knows how he's doing in the hospital? I'm going to get justice for him!"
I quickly interrupted her, "Mom, Waylon's not in the hospital. He's right here."
With that, I tossed the urn to her.
She didn't quite understand, so she didn't catch it, and "Waylon" rolled across the ground.
I crossed my arms and feigned surprise. "Mom, what are you waiting for? Your son's right here! You're finally reunited!"
"Oh, by the way, that urn cost $38. Don't forget to bank transfer," I added with a smile.
Nova, bless her aging brain, was still too stunned to react, but the kid figured it out. He let out a scream and lunged at me.
"You killed my dad! I'm going to kill you, you bitch!"
I easily sidestepped him. After all, the kid was big but not exactly agile.
"Hey, kid, watch your mouth. It wasn't me. Your dad and his mistress forgot to pull the handbrake while they were, um, busy in the car. That's why they ended up in the lake."
"I've got photos from the police if you want to see them," I added.
The kid, of course, couldn't handle that. He screamed again and charged at me, and this time, Nova joined in, frantically trying to grab Waylon's urn from the ground.
"It's your fault my son's dead! I'm going to kill you!"
"You killed my dad! Give him back to me!"
The scene turned chaotic, with me dodging both of them left and right.
Luckily, I'd called the police beforehand, and they arrived before either of them could land a hit on me.
Talk about perfect timing, even the universe seemed to be on my side!
The officers who showed up were the same ones who had handled Waylon's drowning case.
Nova and the kid were quickly restrained, though they kept struggling.
But the cops weren't having it. When they realized they couldn't break free, Nova switched tactics, sitting on the ground and trying to win the crowd over with more wailing.
"Sir, you've got to help us! This shameless woman killed my son!"
"If my boy dies, I won't live either! I'll hang myself right here!"
The officer surveyed the scene and asked, "Who called the police?"
I stepped forward, wiping away fake tears. "Officer, it was me."
"They've been humiliating me in front of my own home, spreading lies, and trying to hurt me. I was so scared I had to call for help."
"You understand, I just lost my husband. I'm worried about my safety and didn't want anything to happen."
