Fatal Fascination
Chapter 1
My husband, Mark, promised me a belated
honeymoon.
But because of a complaint from his mistress,
Vivian, he abandoned me in a war–torn
country.
“Since you hate Vivian so much, stay here by
yourself,” he said.
I looked at the ruins all around me, the sound
of gunfire ringing in my ears, and begged him
to give me back my passport.
He coldly replied, “You’ve lived the life of a
rich wife for too long. See some real suffering
here.”
His private jet roared, kicking up a dust storm
as Vivian clung to his arm, smiling sweetly.
I was dragged into a slum by rebels on my
way to the embassy, brutally raped and
tortured for three days before I finally died.
<
A month later, he remembered me.
“Does she know she’s wrong? Tell her to
accept Vivian’s baby, and I’ll send someone to
get her.”
Ha, he wants a dead woman to acknowledge
his mistress’s child?
1
“It’s been a week, and Sarah hasn’t called,
still refusing to apologize?” Mark asked.
“Apparently, the punishment wasn’t harsh
enough. She dares to defy me!”
His assistant hesitated, stammering, “Sir, you
brought Mrs. Johnson’s phone and passport
back with you. She probably… doesn’t have
any communication devices.”
Mark glanced at the news; the bombings and
riots on the screen made him frown.
He adjusted his glasses. “A phone call? She
could find a passerby, the embassy
there
are plenty of ways. She’s just being defiant.
Let’s see how long she can last.”
His assistant’s voice was cautious, laced with
concern. “Sir, there’s a civil war in Myanmar
right now, with rebels killing innocent people.
Mrs. Johnson might be in danger. Should we
contact someone to look after her?”
Mark glared at his assistant, his face like ice.
“She took self–defense classes, she’s quite
capable. This is her fault; no apology, no easy
way out. It’ll teach her a lesson, show her
who’s boss!”
The assistant tried to argue further, but Mark
silenced him with a cold stare.
He said with disgust, “That’s it. We’ll send
someone to pick her up later. Only if she
acknowledges Vivian’s baby and apologizes
properly will I forgive her this time.”
“But sir, the rebels have guns, I’m afraid…”
“Mark!”
Vivian, stroking her belly, strolled out from the
master bedroom.
Mark’s displeasure vanished, his eyes full of
love for Vivian’s belly.
“Vivian, why aren’t you resting? I’ve already
punished Sarah. She was mean to you last
time; this lesson should teach her a thing or
two!”
He carefully supported Vivian.
“Mark, honey, you don’t have to fight with my
sister because of me. I feel bad.”
Vivian pretended to object, but nestled into
Mark’s arms.
“This honeymoon trip was my fault, because
I’m pregnant and acting out. My sister will
probably hate me even more when she gets
back.”
It was a blatant affair, yet they flaunted their
love so openly.
I laughed; their idyllic life was truly “enviable.”
Except, I was a ghost, floating in mid–air. I
<
was dead.
As I was torn apart by rebels, my soul left my
ravaged body.
Looking down from above, I saw my horrific
death, my wide eyes full of despair and
resentment.
The moment my soul departed, the slum was
bombed, rubble flying everywhere, dust
settling on lifeless faces.
It was as if everyone here was destined to die
a horrible death.
The gunfire stained the night red, flesh and
blood flying everywhere, the air thick with the
sickening smell of blood. Even though I’d left
my body, I still felt nauseous.
But at that moment, Mark was tenderly
playing with Vivian’s hair.
“Don’t worry, your main task now is to rest
and take care of the baby. Forget the rest.”
Then, he affectionately pinched Vivian’s nose.
“That jealous woman was asking for it. She
claimed she was afraid of flying to prevent
you from joining the trip. I wanted to see if
she could have fun on her own.”
Hearing this, my soul felt a sudden chill.
Mark and I had been married for ten years,
yet he didn’t know I’d never been on a plane.
The propeller of the private jet spun, making
a tremendous roar.
To force me onto the plane, Mark had people
gag me and tie me up.
As the plane ascended, I trembled with cold
sweat, but Mark remained indifferent.
He abandoned me in Myanmar; I knelt on the
ground begging him to take me.
My abdomen started aching because of the
fear; my survival instinct made me forget my
dignity. My forehead was bloodied from
hitting the ground, but I couldn’t grab Mark’s
sleeve as he left.
He pushed me away, as if abandoning me
was a way to show his loyalty to his mistress.
He looked down on me. “You like playing
games with Vivian so much? Stay here and
learn some manners, you spoiled rich wife!”
I watched helplessly as the plane flew farther
and farther away, the fear of abandonment
overwhelming me.
I finally saw him for who he was.
On my way to the embassy, when the rebels
dragged me into the slum to torture me, I still
hoped he’d have a change of heart and come
to save me.
But he didn’t.
I endured inhumane abuse, coughing up blood
and begging, but I couldn’t survive.
Oh well, death was a relief for me.
In my final moments, I remembered the
satellite phone watch.
It was one of the few gifts he’d given me.
<
I’d always kept it, but he probably didn’t even
remember where he put it!
I tried to call.
It connected, but was cut off.
Again and again, I tried, only to be cut off.
On my last try, I heard Mark’s gentle voice on
the other end: “Vivian, why are you up? The
doctor said you should rest and avoid any
exertion.”
I died.
If he had only found someone to rescue me in
time…
I could have lived.
A bomb precisely hit the slum where I was.
Limbs were severed, faces were
unrecognizable.
