My Husband Let My Mom Die for His Side Chick - Chapter 7: Chapter 7
You are reading My Husband Let My Mom Die for His Side Chick, Chapter 7: Chapter 7. Read more chapters of My Husband Let My Mom Die for His Side Chick.
I saw red. Every fiber of my being screamed to charge at her and strangle the life out of her with my own hands.
Jacob locked his arms around me, his bloodshot eyes desperate as he kept murmuring in my ear, "Easy... she'll get what's coming to her. I swear."
"Bullshit!" I shoved him off with a scream. "You all deserve to burn for this!"
My voice cracked under the weight of grief. "My mother died because of your lies! Because of you and Emma! If you'd never dragged that snake into our lives, she wouldn't have clawed her way up over my mom's corpse! Why couldn't it have been you? Why her?"
The agony tore through me like shrapnel—I wanted to watch the whole world explode.
Jacob's hollow stare met mine, his words barely audible. "We will. Every last one of us will pay for this."
Then, raw vulnerability cracked his voice: "Abby... is there really no way back for us?"
I let each syllable land like a hammer strike: "Not unless my mother walks through that door."
His shoulders collapsed. "Fine. Let's go file the papers."
The divorce was finalized before the ink could dry. Days later, a friend bombarded my phone with screenshots.
"Jacob Thompson just nuked his own life—posted this under his real name. Does he even care about his reputation anymore?"
The viral confession laid everything bare: his affair with Emma, her manipulation of Lucas, the twisted plot to frame my mother—all of it. Backed by some unseen force, the post detonated across every platform, catapulting #JacobAndEmma to the top of every trending list.
"Karma's a bitch," my friend spat. "Cheaters get chewed up and spat out."
Emma's carefully crafted "piano goddess" persona imploded overnight. Former fans turned rabid, flooding her comments with:
[Homewreckers don't get to play victim!]
[If you can't handle the heat, do us all a favor and jump.]
The mob didn't stop at her DMs. They doxxed her workplace, her apartment—until a sobbing apology video surfaced. There she was, knees grinding into the dirt at Mom's grave, slapping her own swollen face raw: "I'm trash, I'm a murderer, I deserve to die—"
No one bought it.
Then came the midnight call. Emma's voice shredded through the receiver: "Abigail, help! He's—Jacob's gone insane! AHH! STAY BACK—"
A glacial whisper cut through her screams: "We're stains on this earth, Emma. Time to apologize... in hell."
Two sickening crunches. Silence.
Their splattered bodies made the 6 o'clock news, sparking fresh rounds of armchair detectives dissecting the scandal.
When the media vultures started circling me, my CEO handed me a lifeline—a transfer to another city.
At Mom's grave, I traced the engraved letters one last time. "I'm leaving, but I'll keep my promise. I'll live well."
I didn't announce my departure. Yet somehow, Jacob's mother still found me at the terminal—Lucas clutched to her chest like a shattered apology.
Jacob locked his arms around me, his bloodshot eyes desperate as he kept murmuring in my ear, "Easy... she'll get what's coming to her. I swear."
"Bullshit!" I shoved him off with a scream. "You all deserve to burn for this!"
My voice cracked under the weight of grief. "My mother died because of your lies! Because of you and Emma! If you'd never dragged that snake into our lives, she wouldn't have clawed her way up over my mom's corpse! Why couldn't it have been you? Why her?"
The agony tore through me like shrapnel—I wanted to watch the whole world explode.
Jacob's hollow stare met mine, his words barely audible. "We will. Every last one of us will pay for this."
Then, raw vulnerability cracked his voice: "Abby... is there really no way back for us?"
I let each syllable land like a hammer strike: "Not unless my mother walks through that door."
His shoulders collapsed. "Fine. Let's go file the papers."
The divorce was finalized before the ink could dry. Days later, a friend bombarded my phone with screenshots.
"Jacob Thompson just nuked his own life—posted this under his real name. Does he even care about his reputation anymore?"
The viral confession laid everything bare: his affair with Emma, her manipulation of Lucas, the twisted plot to frame my mother—all of it. Backed by some unseen force, the post detonated across every platform, catapulting #JacobAndEmma to the top of every trending list.
"Karma's a bitch," my friend spat. "Cheaters get chewed up and spat out."
Emma's carefully crafted "piano goddess" persona imploded overnight. Former fans turned rabid, flooding her comments with:
[Homewreckers don't get to play victim!]
[If you can't handle the heat, do us all a favor and jump.]
The mob didn't stop at her DMs. They doxxed her workplace, her apartment—until a sobbing apology video surfaced. There she was, knees grinding into the dirt at Mom's grave, slapping her own swollen face raw: "I'm trash, I'm a murderer, I deserve to die—"
No one bought it.
Then came the midnight call. Emma's voice shredded through the receiver: "Abigail, help! He's—Jacob's gone insane! AHH! STAY BACK—"
A glacial whisper cut through her screams: "We're stains on this earth, Emma. Time to apologize... in hell."
Two sickening crunches. Silence.
Their splattered bodies made the 6 o'clock news, sparking fresh rounds of armchair detectives dissecting the scandal.
When the media vultures started circling me, my CEO handed me a lifeline—a transfer to another city.
At Mom's grave, I traced the engraved letters one last time. "I'm leaving, but I'll keep my promise. I'll live well."
I didn't announce my departure. Yet somehow, Jacob's mother still found me at the terminal—Lucas clutched to her chest like a shattered apology.
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