For 35 Years, I Kissed the Accomplice of Mom's Killer

Martha's POV

On the very first day of our marriage, my billionaire husband Randall Ottinger set up a shared financial system to put me to the test.

It wasn’t until our thirty-fifth year of marriage that he finally swept his hand and threw me a magnificent birthday party.

But on my way there, I got into a car accident and ended up in the hospital.

Short on money, I had no choice but to ask him for a $2500 loan for surgery.

But the next second, he rejected me.

“You’re just a housewife, Martha. You could never earn $2,500 to pay me back. Come on, you don’t intend to repay it at all, do you?”

He added, “I knew it all along. You only married me for my money. After all these years, your true colors are finally showing.”

Without another word, he deleted and blocked me on his contacts. I had no choice but to drag myself with my fractured right leg to the party to explain myself.

But instead, I walked in on my husband placing a birthday hat on my stepsister and giving her a necklace worth millions.

My son and my daughter-in-law clapped beside them. My grandson even approached with a bouquet of nine hundred ninety-nine roses to present to Paula.

I could only stand there, watching with a heart full of envy. But as the party began to wind down, I accidentally overheard a conversation between Randall and one of his friends.

“You're insane, man. To openly throw a birthday party for Paula, you actually staged your wife’s car accident? Damn. Thirty-five years ago, you gave Martha abortion pills to ensure Paula’s son—Delbert—would inherit your fortune. Man, you swore you’d never hurt her again after that.”

But not a trace of guilt touched Randall’s expression.

“She owes Paula. Martha was the one who forced this marriage, and because of her, Paula left in a fit of rage. She destroyed what we had!”

He seethed, “Martha merely lost a child. But me? I lost the right to hold Paula’s hand in the open.”

His friend shot back bluntly, “Man, Paula left because she ran over and killed Martha’s mother. You’ve forgotten, haven’t you? You personally found a scapegoat for the crime, and you only married Martha to get her to sign a reconciliation agreement on behalf of her family.”

With chilling indifference, Randall replied, “Well, she deserved it. Besides, I’m never gonna divorce her. That’s already the greatest compensation I could give her.”

After hearing all that, I swore, all the blood in my body froze.

It turned out, it was my very stepsister who killed my mom?!

And the accomplice… was the man I had loved most!

All this time, I had believed he was the one who helped me find my mom’s killer. I had been so grateful, serving him selflessly, as if I owed him everything.

That was utterly ridiculous!

Since they chose injustice, they had no right to expect mercy from me.

I swore, they would pay!

…

I forced myself to suppress my hatred and trembling as I dialed my lawyer.

“I want to withdraw all my investments from Ottinger Group and recall all the resources I gave them. Also, please arrange for my passport and visa. I’m going back to Montclair.”

That was where my mom was from.

I wanted to take her back to where she truly belonged.

“If you withdraw your support, the Ottinger Group won’t last long. What about your husband?” my lawyer asked, his voice laced with concern.

The mention of my husband caused my heart to ache again.

When my mom was killed, the perpetrator fled, and the police were helpless. It was Randall who helped me catch the killer.

I was forever grateful and invested all my mom’s remaining assets into his company, which went public and made him the wealthiest man.

But now, I realize it was all part of a scheme to protect my stepsister, a lie made up at my expense. Of course, I couldn’t let him keep taking advantage of my goodwill.

So, I firmly told the lawyer, “My husband? I have no husband. We’re divorced.”

At my firm's response, he responded, “Understood. I’ve expedited the process for your passport and visa. You’ll have them in a week.”

I listened to those words, quietly calculating the time.

A week was enough to clear my mom’s name and make sure the true culprits were brought to justice.

By the time I got home, it was well past midnight.

As soon as I stepped inside, Randall’s stern face confronted me.

“Where have you been? Why so late? Don’t tell me you’re hiding to avoid paying your share.”

Today was my birthday, and it was also the day we reviewed our monthly shared financial system.

Upon our first encounter, he revealed his modest mountain origins, highlighting that he had faced life-threatening experiences to attain his present accomplishments. This made him insecure about money, so he lived very frugally. He asked me if we could split our expenses.

Given that he supported me, I would do anything for him, including accepting the basic financial arrangement.

After we married, Randall would print out the whole month’s expenses in detail, down to the last cent. However, he only split household costs, and I paid for my own sanitary pads and medical bills.

But when he handed me a five-meter-long bill, I froze.

Staring at the densely packed numbers, I asked, “Do I have to pay for the birthday party too?”

He calmly took a sip of tea and answered matter-of-factly, “You should fully pay for your birthday, but since we’re married, I’ll pay a portion, and the rest is on you.”

I couldn’t help but laugh bitterly.

I hadn’t even attended the party, yet he and Paula were enjoying themselves, and in the end, I was expected to pay.

How funny!

I crumpled the bill and tossed it into the trash.

“Randall, ask yourself honestly, was this birthday party really for me? I watched the whole time as you gave Paula gifts and helped her cut the cake.”

A flash of guilt quickly passed across his eyes, but he slammed his hand on the table and retorted, “So you were there! Then why didn’t you come out? You made me and the guests wait for you. If it weren’t for Paula’s kindness in helping you host, my face would’ve been ruined today. How dare you ask me about it!”

Our son Delbert crossed his arms and coldly chimed in, “Mom, you’re nothing compared to Aunt Paula. Let her host your birthday instead. You should be grateful to her. You’re lucky she’s even willing to replace you.”

Then he sneered at me.

“You should take a look at yourself! You look pale and unappealing. I’m embarrassed to say you’re my mom when we’re out in public.”

Delbert was adopted thirty years ago.

Back then, I had been given abortion pills, which caused me to lose a five-month-old baby. I was then told my uterus was damaged, and I could no longer bear children. I fell into a deep depression.

One day, Randall brought a six-year-old boy to me, saying, “Martha, it doesn’t matter if you can’t have children. I still love you, but I can’t bear to see you live in pain, so I’ve adopted a child who looks like us. He will be our son from now on.”

Delbert looked like me and loved to cling to me. Slowly, I lost myself in his calls of 'Mom' and eventually accepted him. But at some point, he stopped clinging to me, started speaking harshly to me, and grew closer to Paula.

I thought it was my strict discipline that caused him to rebel, never realizing that he was actually Randall and Paula’s child!

Although Jenna never said a word, her eyes were filled with disdain as she looked at me.

My nails dug into my palms, drawing blood.

Holding back my humiliation, I forced myself to ask, “If you think I’m worse than Paula, then how about I divorce your father, and they can get married instead?”