Chapter 5 - The First Wife’s Ghost
The revelation hung in the sterile air of the hospital room like a shroud. Emily Morgan. Ethan’s first wife. Four years ago, she had stood on that same slate balcony, looked out over the same courtyard, and plunged to her death under identical circumstances—an intoxicated stumble, a grieving husband, and a fiercely protective mother-in-law who managed the estate’s public relations with ruthless efficiency.
"The autopsy report from four years ago noted minor bruising around Emily's wrists and ankles," Mason murmured, leaning against the doorframe while keeping his voice low. "At the time, the attending physician accepted Margaret's explanation that Emily bruised easily during her frequent panic attacks. But when I looked at the property transfer records following her death, guess who inherited the entirety of Emily’s multimillion-dollar trust fund? Ethan and Margaret, split down the middle."
My breath hitched in my throat. I wasn't just an inconvenient wife standing in the way of Ethan’s mistress; I was financial fodder, the second installment in a recurring family harvest.
"We can't arrest him on suspicion and old files," Mason continued, shaking his head. "If we move too soon, their high-priced defense attorneys will paint you as an unstable invalid, secure an injunction, and ship you off to a private psychiatric facility where no one will ever hear from you again. We need an admission. We need them to slip up while the world is watching."
"How?" I whispered, the word barely audible.
"We set a trap," Mason said, his expression grim. "My technical team installed a high-gain audio recorder wired directly into your bedframe, linked to the emergency switch beneath your thumb brace. The moment you press it twice, my officers and I will breach this room. But to get Margaret to say enough on tape—to confess her intentions clearly enough for a warrant—you’re going to have to let her believe she has absolute control."
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"She wants me dead," I said, my voice trembling. "She told me I should have died on the pavement."
"I know," Mason replied, placing a heavy, reassuring hand on the metal rail of my bed. "Which means when she comes back tonight while Ethan is at his board meeting, you’re going to have to play your part. Keep her talking. Let her believe you are completely helpless. And when she crosses the line, hit the switch."
