Betrayed by All, I Became the Villain to Catch My Wife's Killer

My wife was raped and beaten to death in our newly bought house by my best friend.

Yet, in court, I stood up and defended him, securing his acquittal.

My father-in-law, Arthur, had a stroke on the spot from pure rage and was rushed to the ER.

My brother-in-law, Tyler, cornered me with a knife in his hand.

"Ethan! She was your wife! She was in your new home, hanging up fairy lights and waiting for you when she was murdered!"

"Why did you protect that animal, Leo Vance?! Are you even human?!"

He pressed the blade against my throat, his eyes bloodshot and wild as he roared at me.

I didn't even blink. Feeling the sharp pain of the blade slicing into my skin, I just smiled.

"Do it."

"Send me down there to be with her."

"Let her ask me face-to-face why I did it."

Tylers hand shook violently. He was on the verge of a total breakdown.

"Ethan! You think I won't do it?"

The hospital corridor was packed with onlookers, their phone flashes blinking in my face.

"Isn't that Ethan Cole, the hotshot lawyer?"

"Yeah, I heard he took a massive bribe to get his own wife's killer off the hook."

"What a monster. Feeding on his wife's blood money."

"Disgusting. Why is he still breathing?"

I listened to their whispers, my expression blank, a faint, cold smile playing on my lips.

Suddenly, the VIP ward door was kicked open.

Helen, my mother-in-law, rushed out with wild, messy hair. She immediately saw me, my neck dripping with blood.

She didn't call for a doctor. She didn't try to stop Tylers knife.

*SLAP!*

A heavy slap landed on my face, burning hot.

My head snapped to the side, the metallic taste of blood filling my mouth.

"Get out! Get the hell out of here!"

Helen pointed at my face, her voice high-pitched and hysterical.

"You killed my Clara! Now you want to kill her father too? Why don't you just die!"

Tylers grip loosened, and the knife clattered to the linoleum floor.

He collapsed to his knees, sobbing uncontrollably.

I ignored the stinging on my cheek, raised my hand, and casually wiped the blood from my neck.

No explanations. No apologies.

I didn't even give them a second glance.

Turning around, I walked straight toward the elevator.

Behind me, Helens curses and Tylers weeping echoed down the hall. I kept my spine perfectly straight.

The moment I stepped out of the hospital lobby, my phone buzzed in my pocket.

The screen displayed "Vance Family."

I answered, my voice instantly switching to a warm, gentle tone.

"Hello, Mrs. Vance."

The grateful voice of an elderly woman came through the speaker. "Oh, Mr. Cole, thank you so, so much. The police just said there wasn't enough evidence. Theyre releasing my Leo..."

I stopped walking and looked back at the towering hospital building.

"Don't worry. I have everything under control. Just do exactly as I said, and he'll be completely fine."

Sudden, heavy footsteps rushed up behind me.

Tyler had followed me out. He was staring death glares at the phone in my hand.

He had heard everything.

And I knew he would.

"Ethan!"

Tyler lunged, grabbing my collar and slamming my head violently against the concrete wall.

"You took that murderers money, didn't you? You sold Clara's life for a paycheck! You sick piece of trash!"

Pedestrians stopped, pointing and whispering.

"Is that the corrupt lawyer?"

"Looks decent on the outside, but his soul is pure black."

Staring into Tylers burning eyes, I didn't defend myself.

My right hand remained in my trench coat pocket, my fingers tightly gripping a ball of unfinished, thick yarn.

It was a scarf Clara had been knitting for me before she died.

"Say something! Are you mute?!"

Tyler threw a hard punch, hitting my cheekbone.

I stumbled back a few steps, steadying myself against the wall.

I kept my head down, letting my messy hair cover my eyes. My throat tightened.

"Are you done?"

I spat out a mouthful of bloody spit.

"If you're done, go back inside and take care of your father."

With that, I pushed past Tyler and hailed a cab.

When I got home, the house was dead silent.

I didn't turn on the lights.

I grabbed a bottle of cheap whiskey from the cabinet, unscrewed the cap, and took a massive gulp.

The burning liquid scorched my throat, and tears instantly flooded my eyes.

I pulled out my phone, the dim screen illuminating my twisted face.

The screen showed a forensic photoClara lying in a pool of blood, her eyes still open, as if she were looking right at me.

I traced her pale face on the screen with a trembling finger.

"Clara..."

A low, wounded growl escaped my throat.

I smiled at the photo, but heavy tears kept splashing onto the glass screen.

"Soon, baby. Very soon."

The next morning, I was shaken awake by the sound of glass shattering.

The living room was a disaster zone.

Tyler had brought a few of his rough cousins. Armed with baseball bats, they were brutally smashing the small memorial table I had set up for Clara.

The flowers were trampled, and the memorial candles were kicked over.

"Trash it! Trash this monster's house!"

Tyler stepped directly on Clara's framed photograph, the sound of the glass cracking exceptionally sharp.

I stood at the bedroom door, watching the scene unfold.

My fists clenched so hard my veins turned blue.

But I didn't move.

I just watched coldly, like an outsider.

The sky was so dark it felt like it was falling, and the rain poured down in sheets.

At the entrance of the cemetery, a large wooden sign stood right in the middle of the path.

"Ethan Cole and dogs keep out."

The words were spray-painted in dripping red paint, looking like fresh blood.

I was dressed in all black, shielding a bouquet of fresh lilies in my arms.

Those were Clara's favorite flowers.

Ignoring the sign, I walked straight in.

"Stop him!"

Tyler roared, and five or six muscular guys rushed me.

Without a word, their fists rained down on my back and head.

I curled my body into a ball, desperately protecting the flowers in my chest.

"Throw him out! Don't let him ruin Clara's path to heaven!"

Tyler kicked me hard in the ribs.

A sharp, agonizing pain shot through me. I groaned but refused to let go of the bouquet.

Until someone forcefully bent my fingers back and snatched the lilies away.

"You think you deserve to give her flowers?"

Tyler threw the lilies into the mud and stomped on them repeatedly until the white petals turned into black mush.

"You belong in hell!"

Lying in the mud, staring at the ruined flowers, my eyes burned red.

I tried to crawl toward them, but a heavy boot slammed down on the back of my hand.

Tyler looked down at me, pulled a photo from his jacket, and slapped it onto my wet face.

"Look at this, everyone!"

He pointed at the photo, his voice piercing through the heavy rain.

"This is his true face! Six months before Clara was murdered, he was already drinking with that killer, Leo Vance, at a pub!"

The photo was real.

But it was taken when Leo had come to my office to ask for legal advice.

The gathering relatives and guests erupted.

"Oh my god, so it was a pre-planned murder?"

"How is this guy not behind bars yet?"

Someone spat on my face.

Then came plastic water bottles, mud, and even small stones.

"Beat this gold-digging bastard!"

"You sick cuckold!"

I was like a stray dog cornered in the street, surrounded by an angry mob.

No resistance. No explanation.

I let them pelt me with whatever they had.

The sound of squeaking wheels approached.

The crowd automatically split to make way.

Arthur sat in his wheelchair, his face pale and sickly, his lips trembling.

He held an old, mud-stained sneaker and threw it at me with what little strength he had left.

The shoe struck my forehead, leaving a dirty smudge.

"You... animal... get out..."

The old man shook with rage, his chest heaving like a broken bellows.

"Arthur..."

The moment I opened my mouth, two strong hands pinned my shoulders to the ground.

"Get on your knees!"

Tyler kicked the back of my knees.

"Apologize to my father! Apologize to Clara!"

My knees crashed heavily onto the rough gravel.

Before I could react, a large hand pressed the back of my head and slammed it downward.

*Thud!*

The sound of my forehead hitting the concrete step was sickening.

Warm blood immediately flowed down my eyebrow, blurring my vision.

Everything turned red.

Around me were curses, insults, and the relentless sound of rain.

The sheer humiliation gnawed at my heart like a venomous snake.

I lifted my head, my face covered in blood.

Through the red haze, I looked at Clara's cold tombstone.

Suddenly, I laughed.

A distorted, chilling laugh.

"Arthur. Tyler."

I locked eyes with them, my voice quiet but dripping with icy malice.

"You will regret this."

"Only I... can truly let her rest in peace."

Tyler flinched, taking a step back, startled by the look in my eyes.

But he quickly recovered, masked by embarrassment and anger.

"Still acting tough! Throw him out of here!"

I was dragged out of the cemetery like a dead dog.

And thrown brutally into the muddy ditch by the roadside.

The dirty water seeped into my cuts, causing a blinding pain.

The storm raged on, washing away the blood and dirt from my body.

I lay in the mud, staring at the gray sky.

My body was in extreme pain, but my mind had never been clearer.

Clara.

Just wait a little longer.

The show isn't over yet.

The door to our apartment had two yellow police warning tapes stretched across it.

Dragging my injured left leg, I ignored the tapes, ripped them off, and pushed the door open.

The air inside was thick with a stale, metallic smell.

On the floor, a large patch of dried, dark-brown blood was staring back at me.

That was where Clara died.

I grabbed a rag from the bathroom, got down on my knees, and began to scrub the floor.

"Clara loves a clean house. Can't let it stay dirty..."

I mumbled to myself, my eyes completely hollow.

From the hallway, a sharp, mocking voice drifted in.

"Oh look, the freak is back."

Our neighbor, Mrs. Gable, was standing in the corridor, raising her voice on purpose.

"Selling his wife out and having the nerve to come back. Who's going to buy this cursed apartment now? What a jinx."

"I know, right? Heard he even defended the killer. He's lucky her ghost hasn't dragged him to hell yet."

My hand paused for a second. I didn't look up.

I kept scrubbing.

I scrubbed until the floorboards turned pale and my fingers were raw and bleeding.

Heavy, hurried footsteps echoed in the hallway again.

Tyler burst in with a few guys, waving some papers in the air.

"Ethan Cole! Explain this!"

He threw the papers, and they scattered across the floor in front of me.

It was a copy of a life insurance policy.

The payout: Ten million dollars.

The sole beneficiary: Ethan Cole.

Tylers eyes were bloodshot, looking like a wild predator ready to rip me apart.

"No wonder you defended Leo Vance! No wonder you didn't press charges!"

He lunged, grabbing my collar and shoving the paper in my face.

"Because he was your partner! You were the mastermind! You set this up for the insurance money!"

I stared at the policy, completely frozen.

When did Clara buy this?

I recalled the week before her birthday, when she had mysteriously told me she had prepared a huge surprise for me.

So this was it.

That foolish, loving woman... Was she worried that if anything happened to her, I would be left with nothing?

My heart felt like it was being squeezed by an invisible hand, making it hard to breathe.

My silence, however, was proof of guilt in Tylers eyes.

"Silent? Guilty conscience?"

Tyler grabbed a baseball bat from near the door and swung it down with full force.

*THUD!*

The bat slammed into my stomach.

My stomach spasmed violently. I curled up on the floor like a shrimp, cold sweat instantly soaking my back.

I grit my teeth and didn't make a sound.

"Tell me! Did you plan this?!"

Tyler raised the bat for another swing.

"Stop hitting him!"

A man's voice came from the door.

Our neighbor, Marcus Drake, walked in, wearing an expression of righteous indignation.

"Tyler, I'll testify for you."

Marcus pointed at me as I lay on the floor, his eyes shifting nervously.

"A few days before the murder, I heard him and Leo Vance arguing in the hallway. They were talking about 'how to split the cash' and 'making sure it looks clean.'"

The crowd outside the door gasped.

"Oh my god, a witness!"

"This is it! He's guilty!"

Lying on the floor, I forced my head up to look at Marcuss hypocritical face.

He had been obsessed with Clara, pursuing her constantly, and grew bitter after she rejected him.

Good. Very good.

All the monsters are finally in one room.

I suddenly burst out laughing.

It was a laugh that rattled my chest, tasting of copper and blood.

I struggled to my feet, grabbed a half-empty bottle of liquor from the ruined counter, and took a large swig in front of everyone.

The alcohol spilled down my chin, mixing with the blood on my lips.

"Yeah," I said, wiping my mouth, looking at Tyler with a mocking smirk.

"The money is coming. Ten million dollars. Of course I'm thrilled."

"With that kind of cash, do you think I'll have trouble finding another woman?"

Silence. Complete, suffocating silence.

In the next second, Tyler completely snapped.

He grabbed a heavy metal shovel from the corner of the room and raised it high.

"Then go to hell with your money!"

The shovel cut through the air, aimed straight at my skull.

I closed my eyes.

I didn't dodge.

*CLANG!*

A dull impact echoed, but the expected pain didn't come.

I opened my eyes. A frail figure had thrown herself over me.

Warm liquid dripped onto my face.

It was Mary Vance, Leos mother.

The edge of the shovel had grazed her forehead, and blood was gushing out.

"Don't hit Mr. Cole... He's a good man..." the elderly woman sobbed, shielding me with her body.

The crowd went wild.

Tyler froze, and then his rage flared even hotter.

He pointed at Mary, the veins on his forehead bulging like worms.

"Look at this! The killers mother is protecting this piece of trash!"

"You guys are definitely in this together! You disgusting criminals!"

The gathered neighbors were fully riled up now.

"Beat them to death!"

"No shame!"

"They threw away their humanity for cash!"

People started throwing rocks, garbage, and rotten vegetables.

Tyler pulled out his phone and started a livestream on TikTok.

"Guys, look at this! This is Ethan Cole! The monster who murdered his wife for insurance!"

The comment section exploded in real-time.

[He deserves the electric chair!]

[Dox him! Find out where his family lives!]

[Why isn't this demon dead yet?]

I had officially become public enemy number one.

Just then, sirens wailed in the distance.

Two police cruisers pulled up downstairs, and officers rushed up the stairs.

"Freeze! Everyone step back!"

They set up caution tape, barely keeping the furious crowd at bay.

But Tyler wouldn't let it go. In front of the officers, he shoved his phone camera right into my face.

"Ethan Cole, in front of the cops, in front of millions online, do you dare to admit you ordered Leo Vance to kill her?!"

"Do you dare to swear? If you lie, may you burn in hell!"

The crowd pushed forward, and I was knocked to the ground.

Someone from the crowd had brought a plastic bowl filled with cold, rotten food mixed with dirty water and ash from the memorial candle.

*SPLASH!*

The cold, filthy mush was dumped directly over my head.

Some of it even got into my mouth.

"Eat up! This is your final meal!"

"Apologize to your wife!"

I lay on the ground, humiliated to the core.

At that moment, my dignity was completely ground into the dirt.

I stuck out my tongue and tasted the bitter, ash-covered food on my lip.

Then, slowly, I stood up.

I pushed away the officer who tried to help me.

Using my sleeve, I wiped the grime and blood from my face, inch by inch.

My movements were so slow it made the room go quiet.

I lifted my eyes, looking past Tyler, past the police officers, and locked my gaze onto someone standing in the very back of the crowd.

I roared, my voice echoing through the entire building.

"Leo Vance is not the killer!"

I pointed a trembling finger at the figure in the back, pronouncing every word clearly.

"The real killer... is standing right among us!"