My Perfect Marriage Was His Perfect Crime novel Chapter 44

Seeing my emotions unstable, Larry noticed the glass of alcohol in front of me. He held my palm and asked, "Honey, how long have you been here? Why didn't you come upstairs to find me?"

His words were laced with cautious probing.

I lowered my eyes and replied coldly, "You guys were upstairs discussing business, with all the smoke and fire. I don't like it."

He sighed in relief and patted my head, signaling the maid to bring over a cup of detox tea. As the maid handed it to me, Larry suddenly grabbed the gun and shot her in the head.

I didn't even react in time as the thick blood sprayed across my face. The maid's hand was still outstretched in the act of offering the tea, her eyes wide in disbelief as she collapsed.

I trembled, my stomach convulsing uncontrollably.

Larry, as if nothing had happened, put down the gun and wiped my face carefully with his sleeve. He lifted the detox tea and fed it to me one sip at a time.

I mechanically swallowed, my body trembling all over.

Out of the corner of my eye, Scott had the maid dragged out.

A long trail of blood followed her on the floor.

"Not even my wife can drink without supervision. If she harms my son, there's no reason for her to live."

I looked at his cold, murderous expression, and my stomach churned.

Larry, with a heart full of sympathy, touched my face. "It's all my fault. I've let you suffer so much. Now that we're finally having a baby, you can't drink anymore."

"No matter what, this child must be born healthy, okay?"

I took several deep breaths before managing to force out a weak smile. "Okay."

But my heart trembled with cold.

In three years of marriage, I've been pregnant six times, but each time the child disappeared for no reason.

Eventually, it became habitual miscarriage.

Half a year ago, the doctor declared I would never be able to have children again.

Larry held me tenderly and said he didn't care about the child, as long as I was happy and healthy.

I had always blamed myself for not being able to give him a healthy child. After many inquiries, I chose the difficult route of IVF.

My belly was full of needles, and I swallowed hormones one after another.

I endured all the pain, only to end up as a tool for Pamela to get married.

Over five thousand photos, each one with Pamela in it.

He has used four folders to save them, documenting different periods of Pamela's life, and each folder has just one word in the description. When strung together, it reads "Only Love in This Life."

In their chat history, Larry once risked his life to hijack the Queen of Spain's crown overnight.

I suddenly remember that day, when he was shot twice and almost didn't make it back. It was I who traded my mother's only heirloom, an extremely valuable ancestral Buddhist amulet, with the royal family to get him back.

The reason? Because Pamela had said, she wanted to experience the feeling of being a queen at her 25th birthday party.

Tears fall onto the screen as my heart aches terribly.

It's not the heartache from years of deception, but rather that I sacrificed the only memento my mother left me for someone like her—a devil who ruined me.

Through my blurry tears, my gaze falls on the crescent-shaped birthmark on Pamela's right shoulder. I blink in surprise.

I have the exact same birthmark on the same spot on my right shoulder.

I remember when I first met Pamela, she didn't have this birthmark.

After I told her I once saved a blood-soaked man while working as an international doctor in Somalia, she began to distance herself from me.