MY WIFE KILLED OUR THREE CHILDREN. I WAS SENT TO DIE

Chapter 5

The silence in the dining room was so heavy it felt like it could crush a man's chest.

Arthur sat quietly across from Marcus, his eyes unblinking, while Eleanor stood frozen near the door frame, her face pale and her hands trembling.

Marcus cleared his throat, trying desperately to rebuild his shattered composure. He forced a stiff, professional smile onto his lips, adjusting his tie with a twitchy hand.

"Arthur, listen to yourself," Marcus said, his voice trying to sound firm and patronizing. "You're speaking in riddles and making wild accusations. You are under a massive amount of stress with the news of triplets, but attacking me won't solve your personal problems."

"Stress?" Arthur repeated softly, a faint, terrifying smile playing on his lips. "No, Doctor. I'm not stressed at all. I’m actually quite fascinated by how business works."

Marcus frowned, his guard instantly rising higher. "Business? What are you talking about?"

"Your private clinic," Arthur said, leaning back in his chair and steepling his fingers. "It’s a beautiful place, isn't it? Top of the line. But I was doing a little reading last night. High-end medical retreats are very expensive to maintain, aren't they? Especially when a clinic carries so much hidden debt."

Marcus froze. The professional mask on his face flickered. "My clinic's finances are completely private and entirely irrelevant to Eleanor’s medical care."

"Are they?" Arthur asked casually. "Because it seems strange to me. A doctor struggling with overhead costs... suddenly recommending a fifty-thousand-dollar cash retreat to my wife. Cash that goes directly into a private account. Perhaps an offshore account? Say, somewhere like the Cayman Islands?"

Behind them, Eleanor gasped softly, her eyes wide with shock. She looked from Arthur to Marcus, her lips trembling.

Marcus’s jaw clenched so hard a muscle bulged in his cheek. "That is borderlining on slander, Arthur! I am a respected board-certified psychiatrist! I don't need to sit here and be accused of financial fraud by a man who can't even keep his wife calm!"

"I'm not accusing you of anything, Marcus," Arthur said, his voice dropping into a smooth, deadly tone. "I’m just asking questions. After all, a man in debt will do desperate things for money, won't he? He might even manipulate a pregnant woman into doing something unthinkable."

"Arthur, stop it!" Eleanor yelled, taking a frantic step into the dining room. Her voice was hysterical. "You've completely lost your mind! How can you say these terrible things to Dr. Vance?! He’s trying to help us!"

Arthur didn't even turn his head to look at her. "Sit down, Eleanor. The adults are talking."

"Don't speak to her like that!" Marcus snapped, slamming his hand onto the table. The sound echoed loudly, but Arthur didn't even flinch. Marcus pointed an angry finger at Arthur’s face. "You are acting wildly unstable! If you continue to harass me and emotionally abuse Eleanor in my presence, I will have no choice but to take legal action against you!"

Arthur looked at Marcus's trembling finger, then slowly raised his eyes back to the doctor's face. The room temperature seemed to plunge into sub-zero cold.

"Legal action?" Arthur murmured. "That's funny, Dr. Vance. Because I had a nightmare recently."

Marcus swallowed hard, his throat dry. "I am not interested in your dreams, Arthur."

"Oh, but you should be," Arthur insisted softly, leaning forward across the table until his chest was almost touching the wood. His dark eyes locked onto Marcus like a vise. "It was such a vivid nightmare. In this dream, a doctor—a trusted psychiatrist, just like you—started sleeping with a married woman."

Eleanor let out a sharp, choked breath. Her hand flew to her mouth.

"Arthur!" she gasped, her face draining of all color.

Marcus’s entire body went rigid. "Arthur, that is enough—"

"Let me finish, Doctor," Arthur interrupted, his voice dropping so low it felt like a cold blade pressing against Marcus's throat. "In my dream, this doctor didn't just sleep with her. He manipulated her. He filled her head with lies. And when she got pregnant, he convinced her to do something truly monstrous."

Arthur paused, watching the sweat begin to glisten on Marcus's forehead.

"He convinced her to murder her own newborn babies," Arthur whispered, every word carved out of ice. "And then, he helped her frame her innocent husband for the crime. They blamed it on domestic abuse. They stole his money, destroyed his name, and sent him out to freeze to death in the cold like an animal."

Silence slammed down on the dining room.

Clack!

Marcus’s hand, which had been holding his teacup, violently spasmed. The porcelain cup rattled wildly against the saucer, spilling hot brown liquid all over his knuckles and onto the white tablecloth.

Marcus dropped the cup instantly, his breathing coming in shallow, ragged gasps. His face had gone completely grey.

Beside the doorway, Eleanor’s legs gave out. She grabbed the edge of a chair to keep from falling, her fork slipping from her trembling fingers and clattering loudly onto the hardwood floor.

"W-what..." Marcus stammered, his smooth, arrogant persona completely obliterated. The doctor stared at Arthur as if he were looking at a ghost—or a demon that knew every dark secret buried in his soul. "What kind of... what kind of sick, twisted thought is that?!"

"I know, right?" Arthur said smoothly, sitting back and tilting his head with a mocking, pitying look. "It's a terrible nightmare. What kind of doctor gives advice like that? What kind of human being could ever do something so evil?"

"You're insane..." Marcus breathed out, his hands shaking so violently he had to hide them under the table. "You're completely out of your mind. Eleanor, your husband needs to be committed to an institution! He is a danger to you and those babies!"

"Am I a danger, Marcus?" Arthur asked, a slow, dark smile spreading across his face. "Or am I the only one who sees the trap?"

Marcus pushed his chair back so fast it shrieked against the floorboards. He stood up, trembling, his chest heaving as he tried to grab his leather doctor’s bag from the spare chair. His polished, powerful authority had completely shattered into pure, unadulterated panic.

"I am leaving," Marcus choked out, backing away from the table without taking his eyes off Arthur. "I am leaving right now. Eleanor, do not stay in this house alone with him. Call the police if he touches you!"

Arthur didn't yell. He didn't chase him.

Instead, Arthur slowly stood up from his chair. He walked around the long dining table with calm, deliberate steps.

Marcus flinched, taking another terrified step back, but Arthur stepped right up beside him.

Arthur reached out and gently, slowly patted Marcus on the shoulder, smoothing down the fabric of the doctor's expensive suit coat. Marcus froze in absolute terror, unable to move a muscle.

Arthur leaned in close, bringing his lips directly to Marcus’s ear.

"You have two weeks left to act like a doctor, Marcus," Arthur whispered, his voice holding a dark, terrifying promise. "Enjoy it while it lasts."

Marcus gasped, flinching as if he had been struck by lightning.

Without saying another word, without even looking back at Eleanor, Marcus turned around, stumbled over his own feet, and practically sprinted down the hallway.

BANG!

The front door slammed shut so hard the windows rattled in their frames. A second later, the sound of tires screeching violently echoed from the driveway as Marcus sped away in a complete panic.

The dining room fell into a dead, suffocating silence.

Eleanor stood frozen near the doorway, her chest heaving, tears of terror overflowing down her cheeks. She stared at her husband, clutching her stomach with both hands, shaking from head to toe.

"Arthur..." she whispered, her voice cracking with pure fear. "What... What did you do to him? What is happening to you?!"

Arthur turned around slowly to face his wife. His face was completely devoid of anger, void of tears, and void of mercy. He just looked at her with cold, empty eyes.

"Nothing is happening to me, Eleanor," Arthur said softly, stepping over the spilled tea on the floor. "I’m just making sure everyone gets exactly what they deserve."