His Lies My Revenge Novel Chapter 11 –
His voice was low, steady. “Mom, what if I told you Rachel’s the real suspect? For the past five years, Jessie wasn’t investigating the wrong things. It was me. I forged the autopsy report… all to give Rachel a peaceful life.”
As soon as the words left his mouth, his mother’s face shifted from shock to disbelief. But before she could respond, he didn’t give her the chance.
Martin slammed his foot on the gas pedal, speeding off into the night.
He couldn’t bring himself to go back to the station, so he reported the case to another department.
Thankfully, the system still had records of my deactivated ID and my new identity. Following the trail, he went to the last hospital I had visited. But the news he received hit him like a punch to the gut.
I had suffered a miscarriage and had already been discharged.
The nurse, who remembered me, told him that my emotional state had been in tatters. She said she’d never seen a patient so utterly hopeless. They’d recommended therapy several times, but I had always refused. Visit novelkoo.com
Martin’s heart sank. He knew, deep down, that he was the one responsible for everything I had gone through. He couldn’t bring himself to keep asking for more details.
A whole day of searching passed. Then, he finally found my flight information at the airport. But when it came time to book the ticket, he hesitated.
He didn’t know how to face me. He didn’t know what emotions he should even feel anymore.
Guilt, regret, and shame swirled inside him, crushing whatever remained of his sanity.
There, in the middle of the airport, a grown man sobbed uncontrollably. In that moment, he realized the full weight of his mistake.
Suddenly, a commotion broke out nearby.
Rachel—who was supposed to be in the hospital—was being restrained by his colleagues, pinned to the ground. Her face was streaked with tears and snot, her body shaking. When she saw him, she cried out, begging him to help her.
But this time, Martin said nothing.
His colleagues, seeing he had finally woken up to the truth, stopped holding back. They presented a document. It was a genetic test between Rachel and the man who had been executed five years ago.
The results, in black and white, confirmed it: Rachel was his daughter.
The “hostage” she claimed to be protecting? Never existed.
The truth that had been buried for years was now exposed in full.
In that instant, Martin looked like he’d aged ten years. Even the faint smile he gave felt forced, empty.
The sense of justice he had once clung to, the ideals he’d always held dear, were destroyed in a single moment.
After returning to the station and facing endless questioning, Martin submitted his resignation.
These hands, the ones that had once uncovered the truth, could no longer make the dead speak, could no longer distinguish right from wrong.
He couldn’t bear to keep working in this field any longer.
The trial of the case caused a massive uproar online. Martin, having forged the autopsy report, was revealed to be Rachel’s accomplice and was sentenced to prison.
On the day he was incarcerated, he opened his phone to find the divorce papers I had sent him.
After signing the document, a small, relieved smile crossed his face.
He hoped—this time—he hadn’t made the wrong choice.
The End.
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