The $250 Widow’s Three Day Revenge

My husband had initiated a delayed mail service with the post office right before his plane crash.

So, for eight years after his death, I continued to receive handwritten letters he had penned long ago.

In the first letter, he bequeathed his entire estate to my stepsister, Savannah. I went completely insane and smashed everything in our house.

In the second letter, he asked Savannah to look after our daughter, unaware that I was being forced to kneel outside the hospital entrance, begging Savannah for Maisie’s medical funds.

In the third letter, he mentioned arranging medical care for my mother, completely ignorant that Savannah had her committed to a state psychiatric hospital.

It wasn’t until the day I received the ninety-ninth letter.

I walked in on him and Savannah passionately kissing at her birthday party.

Seeing me, my husband, Liam Harrington, did the unprecedented and actually deigned to offer an explanation.

“Skylar, I just lost a game of Truth or Dare. I’ve only been faking my death for eight years, I never meant to deceive you.”

I nodded, my voice flat. “Hmm, I understand. Please, continue.”

Liam’s eyes flickered, clearly stunned by my composure.

After all, the old me would go ballistic in front of a camera every time one of his letters arrived.

Everyone called me a basket case, a disgrace to my billionaire husband’s legacy.

But he didn’t know that I only had three days left to live.

1

A brief silence followed before the two caught on to the deeper strangeness of the situation.

Liam looked up sharply, meeting my eyes, the raw desire in his gaze vanishing in a blink.

He spoke, his expression complex. “It was just a lost bet, a penalty.”

I didn’t know if he meant the forbidden kiss or the eight years of fake death.

Either way, I was dying soon, and nothing mattered anymore.

I nodded again, devoid of emotion. “Yes, I know. Go on.”

The calm, collected mask Liam wore began to crack.

“Skylar, do you have some kind of cuckold fetish? You want to stay and watch me kiss your sister?”

Recalling the end-of-life agreement I’d signed that morning, I offered a soft rebuttal. “Sister? The woman who shares my father’s mistress’s blood? She’s a sister by technicality only. Does she deserve the title?”

“As for fetishes, Liam, I certainly wouldn’t presume to compete with you.”

Liam’s face visibly darkened.

Truthfully, before I even pushed open the door to the private room, I’d heard their conversation.

“Darling, it’s been eight years. Why don’t we just make this fake affair real?”

Liam had looked down at the wedding ring on his finger, his tone full of confident arrogance. “Silly girl, what nonsense are you talking about? Forget eight years—Skylar would wait eighteen years for me.”

I stood outside the door and smiled faintly.

Eight years, eighteen years—I wouldn’t even survive eight more days.

Turning away in a numb daze, I heard Liam chasing after me. “Skylar, have you and Maisie been well all these years?”

He had no idea our daughter was in a persistent vegetative state after a brutal car accident that happened right after his “death.”

And he didn’t know that I had spent the last eight years draining my own life force to keep her medical bills paid.

I didn’t turn around. I gritted my teeth. “It’s none of your business.”

Liam sighed, his voice laced with annoyance. “All these years, and you’re still so petty. I only lost a bet. Do you really need to give me such attitude?”

“I’m back now. What is there left to be dramatic about? The make-up wedding I promised you is set for three days from now.”

“Skylar, don’t be late.”

My steps froze.

When we first married, we were poor and never had a real wedding.

After he got rich, every time Liam brought up planning one for me, Savannah would inevitably interrupt.

I had pleaded, I had cried, but nothing had worked.

Liam had sworn to me then that he would one day give me a spectacular, once-in-a-lifetime wedding.

Now that the promise was finally being fulfilled, I no longer wanted it.

Because my final, scheduled euthanasia was also set for three days from now.

2

Just as I was about to leave, Savannah’s falsely sweet voice echoed behind me.

“Skylar, you’re here for this month’s stipend, aren’t you? I already wired the funds. Make sure you check it.”

I glanced at my phone. She had transferred two hundred and fifty dollars.

Ever since Liam’s plane crash eight years ago, Savannah had controlled our family’s finances.

When Maisie was critically injured, I was beside myself with grief and panic, and my first instinct was to beg Savannah for money.

But after hearing my desperate plea, Savannah had slowly and deliberately wired me the two hundred and fifty dollars.

She had looked at my tear-streaked face and laughed, her body shaking. “Skylar, if that’s not enough, should I send you another two-fifty?”

“Oh, well, what can I do? Your husband’s will named me as the sole inheritor.”

“How about this? You get down on your knees and admit your mother was the mistress, and I might consider giving you a couple more dollars.”

I had snapped, grabbing a steak knife and holding it to her throat, demanding the money.

But after she transferred the funds, she immediately called the police.

Not only did I have to return the money I was “extorting,” I ended up spending several days in a cell.

After I was released, I had no choice but to swallow my pride, beg for loans, and take on huge debt.

It was still insufficient. So, I started streaming—performing painful acts and selling my grief to scrape money together.

When I finally went to the doctor for a check-up, they handed me a cancer diagnosis.

“Ms. Reid, luckily, we found it early. Otherwise, the consequences would have been unthinkable.”

My throat tightened.

Because the money I had could only go to one of us: myself or my daughter.

I chose Maisie without a second thought.

“Oh, darling, it’s all my fault. Skylar has been completely destroying the Harrington family’s reputation all these years.”

Savannah’s voice yanked me from the painful memory.

A crowd had gathered around us.

Someone threw a rotten egg at me and laughed. “Basket case! Are you live-streaming yourself eating fermented shark today, or are you doing your possession act?”

“Ugh, I’m sick of that. I think the first time, when she showed up at the airline office and snapped at everyone like a stray dog, was funnier!”

“Oh, and the second time, kneeling outside the hospital for alms—that was truly captivating!”

As the crowd roared with laughter, Savannah pretended to rush over and comfort me, whispering into my ear.

“Skylar, I still have backup copies of your pole-dancing video from that questionable club.”

“But I feel like I haven’t seen enough. Can you perform again for your stream? Do it in front of Liam. Let him see just how desperate you are.”

Then, she took out her phone and showed me a security video.

In the clip, my mother, suffering from advanced Alzheimer’s, was huddled in a corner, crying hysterically over a pillow.

“Wake up, baby! Please wake up! It’s my fault! I failed to protect you!”

After a few broken sobs, my mother suddenly grabbed her hair and screamed hysterically. “Where am I? Who am I?”

Tears sprang to my eyes without warning. I gritted my teeth. “Savannah, don’t push me. I will kill you.”

Liam heard me and instantly moved, shielding Savannah behind him.

“Skylar, what new tantrum is this? I’m home now. You need to—”

Before he could finish, I glimpsed Savannah behind him, waving her phone at me.

She mouthed the words: Strip. If you don’t, I’ll make your mother do it.

In the security footage, a few male orderlies grabbed my mother’s hair and violently shoved her head into a basin of water.

My breathing hitched.

Forcing down the white-hot rage, I mechanically unbuttoned my coat in front of everyone.

Then I began a stiff, unnatural dance for the camera.

Liam’s look shifted instantly from disgust to utter shock.

Countless phone lenses focused on me.

Curious, greedy, and even pitying eyes scanned my body.

As I reached the last layer of clothing, Liam finally lunged forward and delivered a brutal slap, his voice a furious snarl.

“Skylar, you really are a lost cause! You’ll never change!”

He threw his jacket at me in a crumpled heap, then turned and strode away.

Just then, the hospital called.

“Ms. Reid, you need to come and settle the bill immediately, or your daughter…”

3

I threw on my coat, rushing to the hospital like a maniac, only to find out that Maisie’s life-saving funds had just been withdrawn by Savannah.

I drove straight to Liam’s company.

As I reached his office door, Savannah blocked me.

“Skylar, you’re so sneaky. Who knew you could transfer so much company public funds right under my nose!”

I remembered the hospital, seeing Maisie’s breathing grow faint and shallow.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I forced myself to explain, fighting my anger. “Give me the money back! It’s my daughter’s life support!”

It was the money I had earned through eight years of humiliating, soul-crushing live streams.

But then, the company’s CFO brought out a security video.

The footage showed a woman who looked exactly like me secretly opening the company safe.

She brazenly stuffed all the cash inside her bag.

But that woman was not me!

Savannah smiled a strange, cold smile. “Skylar, didn’t you always call my mother a mistress when we were kids?”

“You were so vicious back then, forcing my mother and me to live on the streets for years!”

“And now? For money, there’s nothing you won’t do!”

I bit down hard, denying it. “This money is what I earned!”

Savannah scoffed. “You? If you admit you sold your body for it, I’ll return it.”

I glared at her, eventually giving up and hammering on the office door. “Liam! Get out here!”

The door opened from the inside. Liam looked annoyed. “Why aren’t you with Maisie? Talk to Savannah. I’m in a meeting!”

Ignoring the glaring red lipstick smear on his collar, I rushed forward and grabbed his arm.

“Don’t leave! Savannah took Maisie’s medical funds. Maisie is…”

Before I could finish, Liam yanked his arm free. “Skylar, why are you so obsessed with money? All you ever do is use our daughter to manipulate me!”

The office door slammed shut.

At the same time, the nurse sent me a video. “Ms. Reid, please come quickly. The child isn’t going to last much longer.”

In the video, Maisie was already struggling to breathe and convulsing from lack of oxygen.

Savannah clicked her tongue, a fake smile plastered on her face. “Aww, poor thing. Skylar, are you going to get down on your knees and beg me now?”

I didn’t hesitate. I cast aside all my dignity and fell to my knees with a thud, steeling myself to plead.

“Savannah, I was wrong before. Please, I’m begging you, have mercy and save my daughter.”

Savannah looked triumphant, humming softly. “Finally admitting your mistakes? Hmm, I don’t think you sound sincere enough.”

She extended one foot, her expression suggestive. “Oh, my shoes are dirty. If only someone could clean them for me.”

I bit down so hard on the inside of my cheek I tasted blood. I rolled up my sleeve, ready to wipe her shoe clean.

But Savannah leaned down and whispered, “My shoes are very expensive. Don’t get your filthy clothes on them. Lick them clean.”

I trembled violently, my fists clenched, but eventually, I lowered my head.

After I was done, I looked up, speaking each word distinctly. “Savannah. Can you please transfer the money to the hospital account now?”

Savannah kicked me away, a look of utter contempt on her face. “Yes, yes, I know. You’re so annoying.”

Just as she reached for her phone, it rang again.

The nurse was crying when she spoke four devastating words to me. “The child is gone…”

My body seized up. I ran to the hospital like a lunatic.

By the time I arrived, Maisie’s tiny body was already covered by a sterile white sheet.

The small life I had carried for nine months and fought so hard for had utterly stopped breathing.

A deafening ringing filled my ears.

I collapsed to the floor, weeping until my tears ran dry, then violently vomited a mouthful of blood before finally losing consciousness.

When I woke up, I dialed Liam’s number. “Liam. Maisie is gone.”

The man on the other end was silent for two seconds, then sighed. “Can you stop with the dramatics? Savannah gives you two hundred and fifty thousand dollars a month for support. Isn’t that enough?”

Two hundred and fifty thousand?

It appeared Liam was completely oblivious to the eight years of abuse Savannah had inflicted.

Before I could speak, Savannah’s sickly sweet voice cooed into the phone. “Darling, can you come rub my back? Being pregnant is such a chore. I even need your help to shower.”

My heart felt like it was being violently squeezed, the pain so intense I couldn’t breathe.

The call ended abruptly.

I don’t know how I managed to grit my teeth and arrange my daughter’s funeral.

When she was cremated, I couldn’t even cry anymore.

The attendant handed me the soft pink and blue urn I had personally chosen for Maisie, sighing a sympathetic “Take care of yourself.”

I clutched the urn tightly and went home to pack my bags.

As I dragged my suitcase out, Liam walked in the door.

I didn’t look up, my voice flat and emotionless. “Liam. Maisie is dead. Let’s get a divorce.”