To Make My Wife Not Hating MeChapter 1
Five years after my death, Timothea recovered and finally became a billionaire woman.
She appeared at the press conference with her new lover and was interviewed by reporters.
“Ms. Johnston, I heard that when you were diagnosed with leukemia, your fiancé donated bone marrow to you?”
“That’s right.”
Timothea took the microphone. “Back then, I was at my lowest point in life. That heartless man left me. It was Elmer who stayed by my side, day and night and that’s when I decided to be with him forever.”
As soon as these words were spoken, the entire Stellis region was celebrating the beautiful love story between Timothea and her childhood sweetheart, Elmer.
They called me a scumbag and said I deserved to be struck by lightning.
They called me inhumane, forcing my wife to have an abortion when she was ill and then taking all the money and leaving the country. After the press conference, Elmer noticed she wasn’t feeling well and asked, feigning empathy, “Timothea, are you missing Bond again? He passed away so suddenly, perhaps because of some difficult reason…”
“Don’t mention him!” Timothea gritted her teeth. “If I find him, I’ll skin him alive!”
I smiled bitterly, floating in midair.
Timothea, I was afraid you wouldn’t get your wish. After all, I died on the operating table five years ago, donating my bone marrow for you.
——
Every time Timothea came home feeling down, she’d shut herself away in her study.
She’d vent her anger on the punctured wedding photo before her.
“Bond, where the hell have you been hiding? Why haven’t you come out to see me yet?!”
She muttered hoarsely and looked at the face in the wedding photo, “I went to the press conference today. I’m rich beyond your imagination. Why... haven’t you come back to me yet? Right. You know what? If you come back, I won’t let you go!”
She had already opened the wine cabinet and drunk herself to death.
The knife in her hand slashed at the wedding photo again and again.
From a distance, the photo was already riddled with holes.
Only my face, with its bright smile, showed no sign of damage.
In Timothea’s words: “I’m afraid I’ll forget Bond’s appearance. I won’t recognize him when I meet him in the future and I won’t forget his betrayal.”
Timothea had always hated me. She wished she could see me in front of her and strangle me to death.