My Wife Protected My Daughter's Killer

My wife, Vivian, is the youngest top lawyer in New York.

Her proudest achievement was successfully defending the killer who ran over my daughter as innocent.

The day my daughter died in that horrific car accident, my wife Vivian pulled the drunk Ethan from the driver's seat, shoved him into the passenger seat, and got behind the wheel herself.

She told me: "Mia is dead, but Ethan is still alive. He has a bright future ahead of him. He can't go to prison."

Ethan was acquitted, while I was diagnosed as mentally unstable and confined at home, receiving injections for half a year.

I stopped making a fuss and quietly watched them parade around as a couple, taking the medication she gave me on schedule.

She thought I had finally become an obedient lunatic.

Until the day of the Bar Association awards ceremony, when I stepped onto the stage where she was receiving her award and pressed play on the big screen for her.

"Learned some new tricks, have you? Trying to get my attention with this indifferent attitude?"

Vivian's expression turned cold, a thin layer of anger lurking in her eyes.

"Derek, I know you're angry with me for defending Ethan. But I'm a lawyer. I won't abandon any client. Besides, Ethan was innocent to begin with."

I looked confused. "Why are you explaining all this to me? I didn't even mention Ethan."

The coldness on Vivian's face instantly froze, a trace of guilt floating to the surface of her eyes.

She reached up to pinch the bridge of her nose. "Forget it, I'll find it myself."

I turned and went back to the bedroom. Just as I was about to lie down and rest, Vivian's gentle voice drifted in, somewhat muffled.

"Ethan, what's wrong? Don't cry, tell me slowly... Those reporters are writing nonsense. I'll come over right away."

After a while, the bedroom door was pushed open.

"Something came up with Ethan. I'm his defense attorney, so I need to go handle it." She explained somewhat uncomfortably.

"Oh."

Vivian froze.

She seemed to be waiting for me to say something more, but I just nodded calmly and smiled at her faintly.

After all, I couldn't even remember where that case file was, so how could I remember someone named Ethan?

Vivian left in anger and didn't come home all night.

The next evening, she returned.

And with her came Ethan.

His eyes were red-rimmed as he stood behind Vivian with his head lowered.

That face was indeed handsome. Even at thirty, he still looked like a college student. No wonder Vivian couldn't stop thinking about him.

"Derek," Vivian coughed somewhat uncomfortably, "Ethan's address was exposed and it's not safe anymore. I'm having him stay at our place for a few days."

Ethan kept his eyes down, his voice very low: "Derek, sorry to intrude. I really had nowhere else to go. Those people are terrifying, calling me a murderer."

"How pretentious," I thought to myself, then turned and headed to the kitchen.

At the dinner table, Ethan sat next to Vivian, helping her with soup one moment, cutting her steak the next, bustling about enthusiastically.

"Vivian, you have a sensitive stomach. You can't eat anything too spicy."

He placed the cut steak onto Vivian's plate, then shot me a provocative glance.

Vivian looked at me somewhat awkwardly, wanting to see my reaction.

I just quietly kept my head down, drinking my soup.

"Derek, aren't you going to have some of the main course?" Seeing me unmoved, Vivian took the initiative to push the plate of beef toward me. "This beef is grilled really tender."

Looking at that plate of beef contaminated with Ethan's saliva, my stomach instantly churned with nausea.

"No need," I said flatly.

"Derek, what are you throwing a fit about now? You've been giving attitude ever since Ethan walked in. Our daughter's death was just an accident. Why do you insist on blaming Ethan?"

Vivian's voice turned cold.

I looked at her in confusion. Just as I was about to speak, Ethan interrupted in a low voice.

He stepped back half a pace behind Vivian, forcing out a smile: "Vivian, forget it. Derek has disliked me for more than just a day or two. I'll pack up and move out tonight. If those reporters want to block me, let them. It's not like I haven't had dirt thrown at me before."

"Don't talk nonsense. This is my house, and I'm the one who invited you to stay here. Derek has just been cooped up at home too long and his temper has gotten strange. Don't pay attention to him." Vivian comforted him gently.

Hearing these words, I felt nothing but numbness in my heart.

And so Ethan moved in.

He couldn't sit still for a moment, finding new ways every day to assert his presence in front of me.

I just thought there was something wrong with his brain.

Vivian had been so busy these past few days that she'd been sleeping at her office. Who was he performing for?

Too lazy to care, I turned back to watch TV, but caught sight of a small plush toy in the corner of the TV cabinet.

The toy was dusty, with one eye coming loose.

My heart seized painfully.

This was my daughter's favorite. How could it be here?

As I pondered this, Ethan suddenly reached from behind me and snatched the plush from my hands, his tone casual: "You scared me. I thought I'd lost it."

I stared at him. "This is yours?"

Ethan lifted his chin, a smug smile curling at the corner of his mouth: "Yeah, Vivian gave it to me. She said it really suits my temperament."

Vivian gave it to him? An image flashed through my mind of my daughter bouncing toward me in her pink tutu dress.

"Give it back." I extended my hand toward Ethan, my voice hoarse.

"Why should I? It's mine!"

"This was my daughter's. It can't possibly be yours!" I lunged forward, grabbing Ethan's wrist.

"Let go of me!" Ethan cried out.

The front door burst open and Vivian, who had left work early, rushed in.

Seeing this scene, she didn't say a word and shoved me away.

I crashed heavily into the corner of the coffee table, sharp pain radiating from my waist.

Vivian shielded Ethan, glaring at me furiously. "Derek, have you lost your mind?!"

I pointed at the plush toy, tears streaming down my face: "This was Mia's. Vivian, why is he saying it's yours?"

A flash of discomfort crossed Vivian's face.

"That was a gift I gave to Ethan! Are you going to snatch this away from him too? Is your illness not cured yet?!"

Those words were like ice water dumped over my head.

I stopped arguing, because I suddenly realized there was something seriously wrong with my memory.

I raised my head and stared at Vivian for a long moment.

Those eyes that once held so much love now only showed impatience and disgust, tearing apart the gentle image in my memories.

When I first met her, I was the notorious playboy of our social circle. Everyone said I was destined to die alone, because even for an arranged marriage, no socialite could tolerate my temper.

Only Vivian. Back then she was just a rookie lawyer, but she stood firmly in front of me.

She said, the way you love and hate so boldly is truly captivating.

She said, I'll spend my whole life protecting your pride.

For that promise, I didn't hesitate to break with my family to marry her.

I accompanied her from having nothing to becoming today's top lawyer.

But later, after my repeated outbursts over the Ethan situation, she finally grew tired.

She said, Derek, when will you ever change that domineering temper of yours? It's really annoying.

All my breakdowns and tears were just unreasonable tantrums in her eyes.

Thinking back on the past, bitterness surged to my nose. I'd never felt so wronged.

"Vivian, did you really buy this plush toy?" I demanded.

Her eyes flickered with panic for a moment, her voice unconsciously rising: "There are tons of similar plush toys on the market! Must you imagine the whole world is conspiring against you before you'll be satisfied?"

Behind her, Ethan's lips curved into an imperceptible arc, though his tone remained flat: "Vivian, forget it. Since Derek insists, I'll give it to him. Even though this represents your thoughtfulness toward me, I don't want you two fighting over a toy."

"No need to give it to him!" Vivian looked at me coldly. "Derek, don't forget that Mia's ashes are still at the funeral home. If you keep making trouble, I don't mind making her disappear forever!"

My whole body trembled, my nails digging sharply into my palms.

Vivian was someone who did what she said. I closed my mouth and said nothing more.

After this incident, to appease Ethan, Vivian decided to throw a small party at home.

"Tomorrow is Ethan's birthday. I've invited a few colleagues and friends over to celebrate. Since you're idle at home anyway, you can be responsible for preparing the food and decorations."

Tomorrow was October fifteenth. An indescribable sadness welled up in my heart.

This date seemed very important to me too, but I couldn't remember why.

Seeing my delayed response, Vivian frowned slightly: "Ethan has suffered quite a bit lately. I want to make him happy. You'd better act gracious and don't embarrass me."

I nodded mechanically. After she left, I directly called a home service team to come over.

The old me would never have delegated this to others.

Back when Vivian was just starting out, she was so busy her feet barely touched the ground. She often skipped meals and suffered from stomach pain.

I felt so bad for her that I, a young master who'd never lifted a finger, forced myself to learn to cook.

But Vivian took it for granted, and would even complain when the food I brought her had gotten cold.

Feeding sincerity to a dog must feel just like this.

Early the next morning, the house was decorated with flowers.

Ethan looked at Vivian with a beaming smile: "Vivian, do you think this cake is pretty? It's my favorite strawberry flavor!"

Vivian wrapped her arm around his waist affectionately, smiling as she said, "As long as you like it."

Before long, guests began arriving one after another.

Ethan sat in the center, receiving everyone's well wishes.

"Wishing the handsome Ethan eternal youth!"

"Ms. Vivian is so thoughtful toward Mr. Ethan!"

Ethan's eyes and brows were full of satisfaction, his gaze drifting intermittently toward me in the corner: "Actually, I have Derek to thank for how happy I am today. Although there were some misunderstandings before, all these fruits and pastries today were personally prepared by him."

Everyone's eyes instantly focused on me, filled with scrutiny and mockery.

"So this is Ms. Vivian's husband? I heard after his daughter's accident, he developed a serious illness."

"He looks pretty normal though. How could he..."

Vivian frowned, apparently not wanting people to pay too much attention to me: "Alright, let's cut the cake."

The lights dimmed.

Ethan closed his eyes to make a wish, candlelight illuminating his smug face.

Just then, the doorbell suddenly rang.

"Who could that be at this hour?" Vivian opened the door with some displeasure.

Standing at the door was a delivery person, next to a white funeral wreath.

Vivian's expression changed. "Why are you delivering such an inauspicious thing? Take it away immediately!"

The delivery person looked bewildered, pulling out a form to check: "No mistake. This is memorial supplies that Mr. Derek ordered from us six months ago. He said it absolutely had to be delivered today."

As the delivery person spoke, he craned his neck to look inside.

My head started aching again, my temples throbbing.

I held my head and staggered backward, bumping into the wine on the table.

The wine bottle fell to the floor, glass shards flying everywhere.

All the fragments of memory reassembled in that moment.

A red sports car crashed into the guardrail, the front end severely deformed.

My daughter lay in a pool of blood, her eyes still open, staring fixedly ahead.

And Vivian, the woman I'd loved for five years, was frantically pulling the reeking-of-alcohol Ethan from the driver's seat, shoving him into the passenger seat, then getting behind the wheel herself.

She turned her head and looked at me as I rushed over, revealing a cruel expression.

"Derek, this was an accident. Mia is already dead. But Ethan is still alive. He can't go to prison."

Reality and memory slowly overlapped.

I looked at the white funeral wreath before me, at the room full of festive red balloons, my whole body beginning to tremble, my eyes turning blood red.

"Vivian, did you think that by giving me injections and hypnotizing me, you could make me forget all of this? Impossible! I will never forget that Ethan is the killer who murdered Mia, and you are his accomplice!"

The living room fell deathly silent.

Several lawyer colleagues exchanged glances, whispers spreading.

"Could the previous rumors actually be true? Did Ethan really kill someone while drunk driving?"

"If it's true, doesn't that mean Ms. Vivian committed perjury?"

"Didn't Ms. Vivian say those were just rumors? But looking at Derek's reaction... it doesn't seem fake."