he Day He Chose Her Over Our Dying Son, I Chose Vengeance - Chapter 92: Chapter 92

When I arrived at the scene, my husband, Miles Rivers, was still tangled up with his girlfriend, Serena Blake, in the car.
It wasn’t until the police pulled Miles’s cold, lifeless body off her that Serena, trembling like a leaf in a storm, finally spoke.
“Lila,” she stammered, clutching a coat around herself.
“Please… help me explain this…”
I didn’t even look at her. Instead, I turned to the officer.
“Officer, my husband died on top of her. Please make sure you investigate her properly.”
The car was still parked in the heart of downtown, and a crowd of gawkers had gathered, whispering and pointing at the spectacle.
I ignored them and made a call to the crematorium.
Two hours later, I walked back into my house with Miles in an urn.
Funny thing—just yesterday, Miles had been Googling “how to kill your wife without getting caught.”
Now? He was nothing but ashes in a jar.
That night, I slept like a baby.
Honestly, is there anything better than ringing in the New Year with a promotion, a windfall, and a dead husband?
Of course, I couldn’t enjoy my sleep for long.
Someone yanked the covers off me.
I opened my eyes to see Miles’s dad glaring down at me.
Behind him stood a mob of at least thirty people—men, women, and children—all staring at me like I was some kind of exhibit.
It was Miles’s extended family, who had clearly just rolled into town.
Miles’s mom stepped forward, practically frothing at the mouth.
“Are you seriously still in bed?! We drove all this way for New Year’s, and this is how you treat us?”
She jabbed a finger at me, her voice rising.
“My son worked himself to the bone—almost to death—and all you do is sit around and live off him!”
Well, she got one thing half-right.
Her son did die from overwork—just not the kind she was thinking.
I pulled the blanket back over me, but Miles’s dad yanked it off again.
“Get up already! You’ve got guests in the house, so go make dinner!”
“And to think I told Miles not to marry you,” he added with a sneer.
“A pretty face, but that’s about it.”
With that, the herd of them shuffled out, leaving me fuming.
By the time I came downstairs, the living room was utter chaos.
Kids were screaming, running wild.
They’d ripped every leaf off my plants and thrown my goldfish onto the floor, laughing as it flopped around.
Miles’s mom was busy handing out snacks to the women while his dad distributed cigars to the men.
“Thanks for coming, everyone,” he said, grinning.
“Sorry for the accommodations, but make yourselves comfortable.”
It sounded polite, but it was really just a chance to show off.
The relatives didn’t hold back.
“Wow, Miles must’ve really done well for himself to afford a house this big in the city!”
“I’ll have to ask him to find my son a job someday.”
“This place must’ve cost a million, at least.”
“Are you kidding? Try five million!”
The gasps of awe made my in-laws puff up with pride.
“You’re welcome to stay as long as you like,” Miles’s dad said. “Take your pick of the rooms upstairs or downstairs!”
Finally, I’d had enough.
“I don’t remember saying you could stay,” I said, my voice icy.
Everyone turned to stare at me, the mood instantly shifting.
Miles’s mom glared daggers at me.
“What are you standing there for? Get in the kitchen and start cooking!"
"This is my son’s house—not yours."
"You don’t get a say in anything here!”