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Want to eat? Eat your last meal in hell.
Soon as I sat next to Nathan, Margaret approached me with a cup of water with a big smile.
"Emily, I was wrong about you before. You must be exhausted, have some water," she said.
I waved it off. "No thanks, Mom. You should go rest. I'm guarding Nathan's spirite these three days. No need to help me.”
Margaret's face fell as she blurted out, "How can that be? Won't you starve?"
If I didn't know she meant Nathan would starve, I’d think she was a good mother-in-law.
"Thanks for your concern, Mom, but I can take care of myself," I replied.
Margaret gritted her teeth, nearly cursing. "You still need to drink some water," she insisted.
Seeing that she was about to force me to drink it, I took over the glass, pretending to have a sip.
Satisfied, Margaret finally left.
That night, soon as I feigned falling asleep by the coffin, I heard footsteps approaching.
“That wretch starved my son all day. It's driving me crazy," Margaret hissed.
Claire added, "Quick, have Nathan eat some food. He must be famished."
Then I heard she tapped Nathan’s face, asking, "Nate, it’s me. You awake?"
Nathan’s voice came through. "Yeah. That anesthesia only lasts half a day. When I woke up, Emily was right there. It nearly scared me to death."
"How could she be fine? She’s got a weak heart and worked overtime. Seeing me'dead' should’ve break her down.”
Margaret snorted, "So she doesn’t love you at all. Otherwise, how could she have no reaction?”
Listening to this, I sneered inwardly. In my last life, their plan did work—I indeed fell sick on the spot and eventually died of anger.
But this time, should I fall for their trick again?.
“Son, ,hurry up and eat something," Margaret urged.
“Later, Mom will find a way to get you divorced from Emily. That lottery winnings will have nothing to do with her," she continued.
“Great, let me have something first, I’m starving," Nathan replied.
At that moment, I pretended to get stirred, asking, "What's going on? Who's talking there?"
Nathan dropped back, pretending to be "dead," while Claire and Margaret quickly hid the food, standing stiffly.
“Emily, you are so exhausted. Why don't you go back to the house to sleep?" Claire said.
Looking at them, I shook my head and insisted, "No. I’m guarding my husband."
Their faces almost turned as dark as charcoal, but they didn't dare say nothing, fearing they'd ruin their plan.
I tied a rope between Nathan’s wrist and mine, so if he moved, I’d wake.
On the next morning, Claire and Margaret glared at me furiously. After all,I had Nathan starved a whole day. How could they not hate me?
The next night, Margaret came with another cup of sleeping pills.
I went along with her and pretended to drink it, and then "passed out."
They crept in again, and Nathan jumped up, groaning.
Even a vegetative patient needs to change positions, let alone a living man.
But just as he got up, I also sat up and looked at him "in shock" "Honey, didn't you die? How come you're sitting up?" I asked, feigning confusion.
