My Killer Was His "I Love You" - Chapter 6: Chapter 6

"Mila, get out here and explain this to me! What the hell is going on?"
Silence. No one answered.
Grayson snapped. He snatched up the shovel again, his movements wild and desperate as he tore into the small mound of earth.
Chloe's breath hitched, her pulse spiking as she lunged forward. "Grayson, stop! What are you doing? Get a grip!"
She had to stop him.
If he uncovered the truth—if he found me—her twisted little game would be over.
Three years ago, she'd orchestrated my murder, beaten me bloody, and buried me alive in this very hole.
She knew exactly who was rotting beneath that dirt.
But Grayson wasn't listening. He was a man possessed, his eyes bloodshot, his movements frantic.
"Get out of my way!" He shoved Chloe aside, his focus locked on the ground as he kept digging.
When the shovel snapped, he dropped to his knees and clawed at the earth with his bare hands, tearing his skin open until blood streaked the dirt.
Then—his hands stilled.
His entire body went rigid.
His gaze locked onto what lay beneath his fingers—a skeletal fragment, still wrapped in tattered, decayed fabric.
"Bones…?" His voice was barely a whisper. "Why are there bones here…?"
Crack.
A wooden staff came down hard toward Grayson's head.
"You monsters! Ms. Nelson's been dead for years, and you still won't let her rest in peace? Digging up her grave like vultures—"
Grayson caught the staff mid-swing and whipped around, his eyes burning with fury.
It was the drunk from three days ago.
"What did you just say?" Grayson's voice was dangerously low. "This is Mila's grave?"
Before the drunk could answer, Grayson shook his head violently, denial twisting his face.
"No. That's impossible."
"They say only the wicked live long. Mila was ruthless. There's no way she died that easily—"
The drunk squinted at him, then let out a bitter laugh. "Oh, I get it now. You're the husband, aren't you? The heartless bastard who let her die?"
"Get out of here, all of you!" The drunk brandished his staff like a weapon, driving them back.
"Ms. Nelson was a good woman, and you people destroyed her! How dare you show your faces here?"
Grayson's jaw clenched, but he forced a cold, mocking smile.
"An actor, huh? This is another one of Mila's schemes, isn't it? You really think I'm that stupid?"
His gaze dropped to the bones. Then—crunch.
His shoe came down hard on the exposed remains.
"You always loved playing dead, didn't you?"
"Let's see how convincing these props really are."
"Someone—call the coroner."
Chloe's stomach lurched. If the coroner confirmed the identity, the truth would unravel everything.
Even if Grayson did choose her in the end, she didn't want Mila's death exposed.
No—she wanted Mila to rot in Grayson's hatred forever.
A smug smile curled her lips.
This was her chance. She'd make sure Grayson never hoped again.
And then?
She'd finally become Mrs. Allen.
Two hours later, the coroner's report landed like a death sentence.
The man in the white coat exhaled, his voice quiet.
"Mr. Allen… my condolences."
"DNA confirms these remains belong to your wife, Mila Nelson. She died approximately three years ago."
Grayson swayed, his face draining of color.
His bloodshot eyes locked onto the skeleton—some parts still intact, clean yet reeking of decay.
Normally, the stench would have made him recoil.
Now, he didn't even seem to notice.
"How…?" His voice cracked. "How did she die?"
The coroner's tone was clinical, detached.
"Severe blunt force trauma. Multiple rib fractures, crushed bones, signs of repeated assault prior to death."
A pause. Then, colder:
"There's dirt in her lungs. She was buried alive."
Each word hit Grayson like a hammer.
Mila hadn't run.
She hadn't abandoned him.
She'd been dead all along.
The days that followed turned Grayson into a ghost.
He stopped eating.
He ignored the company.
He even brushed off Chloe's whining demands to go shopping.
She clung to him, tears streaming.
"Grayson, I know you're hurting. You were married to her for eight years…"
"But she's gone. There's nothing we can do now."
"We have to move forward. For Jayden, right?"
She pressed a trembling hand to her chest. "It's just… my kidneys… Grayson, I might not have much time left—"
Something in him stirred.
He pulled her close, his voice hollow.
"Don't worry. I'll find you another donor."
Chloe smiled against his chest.
The kidney disease was fake.
But Grayson's devotion?
That was real.