When I arrived at the parking garage, the automatic gate failed to recognize my car.
The security guard checked the system and informed me that the parking space was now linked to another vehicle. After scanning again to re-enter the garage, I saw a new car parked in my spot.
It was the car Patricia had mentioned two months ago, claiming it was a birthday gift for me. But now, stepping out of it was Terry.
He spotted me immediately but pretended not to, deliberately flashing a marriage certificate while saying to Patricia, "Patricia, once the civil affairs office opens tomorrow, I'll file for a divorce with you right away. That way, I won't delay your wedding with Anthony." Terry's eyes were even redder than the marriage certificate.
Patricia pinched his cheeks playfully, coaxing him, "Silly, why are you in such a rush? Anthony won't marry anyone but me. Even if he has to wait ten or twenty more years, he'll do it willingly."
I stared at their backs as they walked hand in hand into my house, then I decided to book a hotel. Feeling restless, I headed to a nearby park for my usual run.
After a lap, I unexpectedly ran into Patricia and Terry, who were holding hands while strolling. Patricia leaned affectionately against Terry, their conversation full of whispered endearments.
I wasn't interested in their sweet nothings. Plugging in my earphones, I turned to jog in the opposite direction. What I didn't notice was someone following me.
Suddenly, a cloth soaked in a sedative covered my mouth and nose as I was dragged into a car. I struggled with all my strength, but the person's grip on my neck was unyielding.
Through the car window's reflection, I saw a face eerily similar to Terry's, about 70% alike. "If you want to compete with my son for a woman, you deserve to die!" someone hissed at me.
I waved frantically for help toward Secretary Beckett in the distance, but he acted as though he didn't see me. After answering a call, he walked away with the two bodyguards without hesitation.
The woman holding me down was shockingly strong, nothing like someone terminally ill. When I regained consciousness, my body felt weak and Terry's mother lay pale in a pool of blood.
Before I could understand what was happening, Patricia stormed in with a group of people.
Seeing his mother's condition, Terry let out a piercing scream, "Mom! What's wrong? Don't scare me!"
He held her tightly and shouted at me, "Anthony! What did I ever do to you to deserve this? Why would you hurt my mother so cruelly? She only has a few days left to live!"
Patricia, who had a fear of blood, didn't dare look directly at the scene but still managed to call an ambulance while angrily punching me in the chest and shouted, "Anthony, you've utterly disappointed me!"
Just as she was about to call the police, Terry stopped her, "Patricia, forget it. It's my fault. I shouldn't have asked for your help. I just want my mom to be okay now ..."
Enraged, Patricia turned to scold Secretary Beckett, "Didn't I tell you to keep an eye on him and stop him from causing trouble?"
The three men, who had been absent during my ordeal, responded in unison, "Miss Mcbride, Anthony was driving too fast. We couldn't keep up."
Before dating Patricia, I had a notorious love for street racing. So their excuse was completely believable to her.
Suppressing her discomfort, she crouched down to comfort Terry, who was on the verge of fainting from grief. She said, "Terry, your mom has always been blessed. She'll be okay, I'm sure of it!"
The 'corpse' on the floor trembled slightly but didn't dare open her eyes.
Swallowing the metallic taste of blood in my throat, I said coldly, "Enough with the mourning. If you keep crying, your mom won't be able to keep up the act."
Terry's face contorted in rage. Picking up the bloodstained knife from the floor, he lunged toward me, ready to fight.
