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Among My Husband’s Dead Wives I Am Number Seven
NovelMaster
Hoàn thành
At 2:00 AM, I scrolled past a viral post. The headline read: **[My husband’s first six wives are all dead. I’m number seven.]** It was posted three years ago. The account had already been deac...
Chương (3)
第1章
At 2:00 AM, I scrolled past a viral post.
The headline read: **[My husband’s first six wives are all dead. I’m number seven.]**
It was posted three years ago.
The account had already been deactivated.
But screenshots of the post had been reshared over thirty thousand times.
I stared at the image on my screen, a cold shiver running down my spine.
It wasn't because of the text.
It was because—
The face of the woman in that screenshot looked exactly like mine.
My name is Hazel. I’m twenty-eight.
Three months ago, I married Julian Vance.
He is fifteen years older than me. He is a prominent tech mogul in Seattle—elegant, generous, and incredibly charming. He spent two whole years chasing me before I finally said yes.
Everyone told me how lucky I was.
"Hazel really hit the jackpot. How did she land a guy like him?"
"He's handsome, filthy rich, and completely devoted. He’s a catch of a lifetime."
"I heard his late wife passed away years ago. He stayed single for so long, and now he’s finally moving on."
Hearing those words always made my heart flutter.
Julian really was perfect.
He remembered every little thing I liked. He would drive thirty minutes in the middle of the night just to get me my favorite dessert. He would bring warm takeout to my office when I worked late. He would hold me and soothe me until midnight whenever I was upset.
From the day we met to the day we married, he had never once raised his voice at me.
On our wedding day, he looked at me, his eyes rimmed with red.
"Hazel," he whispered, "I’ve finally found you."
I thought this was what perfect love looked like.
Until today.
It was the weekend. Julian had gone to the office for a meeting, leaving me home alone to clean up the study.
Usually, he didn't let me in here, claiming it held highly confidential business documents.
But today, he had smiled and told me I could tidy it up if I wanted to.
I began taking the books out one by one to dust them. When I reached the third shelf, I noticed a hollow panel behind a row of encyclopedias.
Inside the hidden compartment was a thick, heavy manila folder.
I hesitated for a second, but curiosity won. I opened it.
Inside were six sets of files.
On the first page of each file was a small passport photo.
Six different women.
Different faces, different ages, but all strikingly beautiful.
Attached to the back of each file was a series of documents.
A copy of a marriage certificate.
A death certificate.
A deed to a cemetery plot.
The very last page was a handwritten spreadsheet.
Name, age, date of marriage, date of death, cause of death.
First wife: Audrey, 26. Married: 03.12.2015. Died: 01.08.2016. Cause of death: Car accident.
Second wife: Chloe, 25. Married: 06.21.2016. Died: 02.14.2017. Cause of death: Drowning.
Third wife: Brooke, 27. Married: 09.03.2017. Died: 05.19.2018. Cause of death: Fall from a balcony.
Fourth wife: Diana, 26. Married: 11.11.2018. Died: 07.23.2019. Cause of death: House fire.
Fifth wife: Elena, 28. Married: 01.05.2020. Died: 10.30.2020. Cause of death: Carbon monoxide poisoning.
Sixth wife: Fiona, 27. Married: 04.17.2021. Died: 02.08.2022. Cause of death: Accidental fall.
My hands began to shake violently.
Julian had told me he only had one late wife, who died of an illness.
But there were six.
Six women. Six wives. Six death certificates.
The longest marriage lasted a year and two months. The shortest was only nine months.
Was he marrying them?
Or was he murdering them?
I flipped to the very last page.
The seventh wife.
The page was mostly blank, except for one completed row:
Name: Hazel.
Date of Marriage: 03.12.2024.
Date of Death: —
Cause of Death: —
I stared at the blank spaces, and my blood ran absolutely cold.
Right then, the sound of the front door unlocking echoed through the house.
Julian was back.
第2章
I frantically shoved the folder back into the hidden compartment, threw the books back into place, and stood up just as the study door swung open.
Julian stood in the doorway, watching me.
He was wearing a dark gray dress shirt, his sleeves rolled up to his forearms, a warm, gentle smile on his face.
"Hazel, what are you doing in here?"
"I... I was just cleaning up the study," I said, my voice tight and strained. "You said I could, right?"
"I did." He walked into the room, cast a brief glance at the bookshelf, and then looked back at me. "Are you tired?"
"No."
"Why is your face so pale?"
"Maybe... maybe a slight dizzy spell. My blood sugar might be low."
He immediately stepped forward, gently gripping my shoulders. "Then stop cleaning. Go sit on the couch. I'll get you some orange juice."
His hands on my shoulders were warm and firm.
Just like they always were.
But right now, his hands felt like the claws of a predator, ready to tighten at any second and snap my neck.
"Okay," I whispered.
He guided me out of the study, pressed me gently into the living room sofa, and walked into the kitchen to grab the drink.
I sat there, my entire body stiff.
My mind was screaming with the details of those six files.
Six women.
Six accidents.
Seven years.
An average of one death per year.
Every single one of them died in a way that left his hands completely clean.
What was he?
How did he do it?
Why did no one ever notice?
How was he still walking free?
Julian walked back into the living room, sat down beside me, and handed me the glass.
"Drink it slowly."
I took the glass and took a small sip.
The juice was sweet.
But I couldn't taste a thing.
"Hazel," he said suddenly, his voice quiet. "Did you find something?"
My hand jerked. The juice almost spilled onto my lap.
"W-what?"
He looked at me. His eyes were incredibly gentle, like he was looking at a piece of fragile porcelain.
"I saw the study door open," he said. "Did you open the hidden compartment?"
I raised my head to meet his eyes.
His eyes were a deep, warm hazel, catching the light like polished amber.
There was no malice in them. Only a calm, quiet curiosity.
As if he were simply asking what I wanted for dinner.
"I..." The words caught in my throat.
He let out a soft sigh.
He reached out, gently took the glass from my hands, and set it on the coffee table.
"Hazel," he said, "I was planning on telling you eventually."
Telling me what?
That you killed six people?
Or that I’m supposed to be number seven?
He took my hand in his.
His hand was large and warm, completely wrapping around mine.
"Those women," he said. "You saw them?"
I nodded slowly.
"Do you think I killed them?"
I couldn't speak.
He let out a dry, bitter laugh.
"Hazel, if I told you I didn't kill them, would you believe me?"
I stared at him, my mind blank.
He sighed again.
Then he pulled out his phone, scrolled through it for a moment, and turned the screen toward me.
On the screen was a post.
The headline was: **[My husband’s first six wives are all dead. I’m number seven.]**
It was the exact same post I had seen at 2:00 AM.
The username of the poster: Hazel.
Date of post: Three years ago.
I froze.
第3章
"Three years ago," Julian said, "I stumbled across this post online."
He swiped down on the screen.
"The poster used your name, and the photo attached was your face. But back then, I didn't even know you existed."
I stared at the photo on the screen.
The face was undoubtedly mine.
But the eyes were different.
The woman in the photo had cold eyes. Cold as a frozen lake in the dead of winter.
"I was shocked," Julian said. "Because every single detail in this post was absolutely true."
He scrolled down to the comments section.
*[Is the husband the tech mogul from Seattle? I think I saw his late wife's obituary in the news.]*
*[Six wives are dead? That’s too much of a coincidence.]*
*[OP, you need to run! Are you waiting to become number seven?]*
*[I looked it up. There are indeed five public obituaries. The sixth one hasn't been made public yet.]*
*[Is OP okay? Can someone update us?]*
The very last comment was from the original poster herself:
*[I managed to escape. But he is hunting me. If anything happens to me, please send this thread to the police.]*
The reply was timestamped three years ago, on a cold winter night.
After that, the account never logged in again.
Julian slid his phone back into his pocket and looked at me.
"Do you understand now?"
I didn't. I didn't understand at all.
"The woman who wrote that post," he said, "looked exactly like you. She went by the name Hazel. She was my sixth wife."
The sixth one.
Fiona.
But the name on the spreadsheet was Fiona.
"Wasn't her name Fiona?" I whispered.
"That was the alias she used after she ran away," Julian explained. "She was terrified I would find her."
My brain was spinning out of control.
"Then where is she now...?"
"She's dead," Julian said quietly. "Three years ago, she died in a car accident in your hometown."
A car accident.
But the cause of death listed for the sixth wife was an accidental fall.
Not a car accident.
"I know what you're thinking," he said. "You're wondering if I'm lying. You're wondering if someone else killed her."
I remained silent.
He stared at me, his gaze incredibly complex.
"Hazel, have you ever wondered why you look exactly like her?"
I froze.
"Have you ever wondered why your parents died when you were just a toddler?"
"What are you trying to say?"
He was quiet for a long moment. When he finally spoke, his words made my entire body go numb.
"Hazel isn't your real name. You aren't who you think you are. You are someone else entirely."
***
*(Paywall Cliffhanger)*