She didn’t say anything back then.
But she remembered.
Years later, when my mom was terminally ill—she could’ve saved her. She stood by and watched.
William even personally ripped out my mother’s oxygen tube —and said it was karma.
Looking back now… Maybe this is my retribution for marrying Margaret in the first place.
I shut off my phone completely, refusing to look at any more news online.
The mourning hall I had prepared was still untouched.
I placed the two urns on the table—no matter how hard I tried, the tears wouldn’t stop.
If only I had been stronger. If I’d forced her to divorce me earlier, taken the kids abroad.
Would they still be alive?
I cried until I couldn’t make a sound, collapsed to the floor, drenched in grief.
Then I heard footsteps.
William’s voice, flirtatious and light, “Thank you for the watch, sis. I’ll repay you hard tonight.”
He walked in and frowned when he saw the altar.
“Ugh, your husband clearly lost it. Isn’t he taking it too far?”
Margaret lazily draped her arms around him and threw herself into his embrace.
“Who cares. But hey, we haven’t done it in a mourning hall before, have we?”
“My little puppy, you’ve been starved for months. Want to try something with your 'sister' right here?"
They started fooling around—right in front of the kids’ memorial.
Too lost in each other to notice me lying silently nearby.
I didn't make a sound, but quietly opened my cell phone to record.
Just like she did to me.
And I uploaded it.
"By morning, Margaret kicked open my door in fury, her face twisted with rage."
“James! Have you lost your mind?! Did you post that video last night?”
“You hate me, fine—but William is just a kid! Are you trying to kill him?”
She seized me by the collar with a vice-like grip, her eyes burning scarlet as she threatened me.
“Delete it. Now.”
I looked up at her, numb and let out a cold laugh.
“Isn’t this the trick you used on me first?”
“You paid people to post smear videos of me. I’m just returning the favor.”
The video I posted?
Went viral overnight.
Because right behind their entangled bodies—were the black-and-white memorial photos of my children.
The caption read:
[The Loss of Humanity! — A Mother Desecrates Her Children’s Funeral for Pleasure!]
Margaret lost it. I heard she shattered the antique wine glass she had just won at auction.
The footage was clear, explicit, merciless.
Their privacy was completely exposed, laid bare for all to see.
And without the slightest pleasure of a victor, I just looked at the urns of my two children.
This was only the beginning.
William made a fuss, threatening suicide with tofu from the fridge. Tried jumping off the second-floor balcony.
Margaret was overwhelmed.
She came to me three times, threatening to take action if I didn’t delete the video.
I just scoffed and left the Margaret mansion.
“Whatever.”
Now, every two hours, she’d send someone to check where I went.
Afraid I’d do something to hurt William.
But I didn't go anywhere and insisted on going to the auction every day.
At first, the people there looked at me with disdain and contempt, then surprise and by the end, their gazes were filled with respect.
I never bid on anything else.
