My Husband’s Hero Act Was My Undoing / Chapter 6: Break-In, Betrayal, and Old Scars
My Husband’s Hero Act Was My Undoing

My Husband’s Hero Act Was My Undoing

Author: Rachael Morris

Chapter 6: Break-In, Betrayal, and Old Scars

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I knew she’d run straight to David Sutton and fan the flames.

Sure enough, a few days later, David Sutton showed up, marching right into my room.

It was dark. I was asleep, laptop and phone beside me. David Sutton was fuming, but kept quiet, crouching by the computer, fiddling with something.

He knew my account passwords. He’d been waiting for a chance to swipe my stock assets. In this life, he didn’t care about a job—just draining me dry.

Beep beep beep!

The phone startled him. I groggily answered, pretending not to see him:

"Stocks and funds? After David died, I just cashed everything out and bought a car for my new boyfriend…"

Smack—

In the dark, David knocked my phone to the floor, smashing it.

His eyes were wild as he pinned me to the wall, hands at my throat.

"You bitch! Did you give away all the money?"

Inside, I was grinning—he’d fallen right into my trap.

David snarled, but the next second, Tyler Brooks yanked him by the collar and slammed him into a vase, knocking him flat.

"What the hell are you doing? Breaking in, attacking her?"

Tyler stepped out from behind the curtains and, just like we’d planned, called the cops.

David snapped back, scrambling to escape, but Tyler pinned him, gripping his jaw and forcing him to kneel.

"Funny—only my husband knew my finance passwords. What, did he come back in a new body? That’d be a world first! Maybe I should call a lab—bet they’d pay to dissect a case like this—"

To Tyler, it sounded nuts, but David’s whole body shook, eyes locked on me.

"…I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m Brian Lewis. I came to see my fiancée!"

The body he’d stolen was Brian Lewis—a few years younger, plain-looking, used to be a shuttle bus driver, now jobless and estranged from his birth parents.

At the police station, I ignored his excuses and pressed charges, barely glancing at him.

Jessica fainted when she heard, wound up in the hospital with pregnancy complications. My father-in-law collapsed at the news, too.

My mother-in-law was about to lay into me, but I cut her off: "Why are you so upset about a stranger breaking in? Is he your son or something?"

She sputtered, at a loss.

Much later, she tried again: "Fine, forget outsiders. Your father-in-law needs another round of treatment, but we’re broke. Your husband was a hero—aren’t you going to help with his hospital bills?"

In my last life, I was comfortable, but they guilted me into going broke to save the so-called hero’s dad.

Then they turned around and gave it all to David, bleeding me dry.

"Ask the doctor about treatment, not me. I’m not legally responsible. But you’ve been living in the kids’ room for months—shouldn’t you pay rent?"

She hung up on me.

A few days later, my daughter casually mentioned she’d seen her grandparents at the hospital during a school physical, and Grandma took her for some tests.

My fists clenched—just as I feared.

In my last life, when my father-in-law couldn’t get a bone marrow transplant, he targeted my daughter. In some shady clinic, my kid—barely five—was forced to donate bone marrow!

Just thinking about it made my teeth ache with hate. Monsters, all of them.

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