My Killer Was His "I Love You" - Chapter 7: Chapter 7

Just as the Allens were scrambling to find a kidney donor, an unexpected visitor showed up at their doorstep.
It was the drunk who'd been guarding my grave at the private estate - stone sober now, with purpose in his eyes. He'd come specifically for Grayson.
"Here," he said, thrusting a piece of evidence into Grayson's hands. "Everything you need to know about how Ms. Nelson really died is in here."
No liquor bottle in sight. No slurred speech. Just three years of pent-up determination finally seeing daylight.
Grayson eyed him suspiciously. "You knew Mila? Why go to such lengths for her?"
The man gave a bitter chuckle. "I told you - she saved my life. Got me medical care when I was sick, food when I was starving. Only right I return the favor by making sure justice gets served." He nodded at the USB drive. "Take a good look. Then you'll understand exactly how innocent your wife was."
Grayson didn't even go home. He checked into the nearest hotel and plugged that drive into his laptop.
One hour later, he sat frozen - pale as death, fingers numb against the keyboard.
"Chloe..." His voice cracked.
I watched from beside him as the security footage played out. There was Chloe at the gym, deliberately causing her own miscarriage before pinning it on me. Grayson's subsequent rage. My imprisonment at the villa. Then Chloe's grand entrance two months later - all sweet talk until she lured me to that balcony.
Her triumphant declaration: "I will be Mrs. Allen." Then the shove. The phone call where Grayson cooed "baby" into her ear as I plummeted through the air.
Miraculously, the fall didn't kill me. Just left me broken. Not broken enough for Chloe though - she had her men take turns with me before burying me alive.
All captured on cameras Chloe thought she'd paid to destroy. The drunk had bankrupted himself to save that footage, biding his time for this moment.
That night, Grayson stormed the private estate with his security team, interrogating every informant he'd stationed there. These were men who'd assumed their boss didn't care whether I lived or died - until they saw his bloodshot eyes demanding answers.
Piece by piece, the truth emerged. How Chloe had tried to buy silence with millions. How one guard, Tom - someone I'd once helped - had been waiting years to clear my name.
"Mr. Allen," Tom said, producing a crumpled letter. "She left this for you."
Grayson's hands shook as he took it. I'd entrusted it to Tom because I knew Chloe would destroy it otherwise.
In those pages, I laid bare every lie:
Chloe's gym trainer affair that caused her miscarriage
The baby wasn't even Grayson's
My kidney that actually saved his life
How Chloe manipulated his need to feel needed
The final betrayal? That Grayson had pushed away the woman who truly loved him for a gold-digging actress who played damsel in distress like an Oscar-worthy performance.
Grayson's jaw clenched so tight I thought his teeth might shatter. "You'll pay for this, Chloe. Every last lie."
But when his tears fell on my letter, when his broken "Mila, I was wrong..." filled that empty room, it changed nothing.
Some wounds don't heal. Some betrayals can't be forgiven. Not even by a ghost.