It's Too Late, Mr. Smith
Ladys · Completed · 7.0k Words
Introduction
I suddenly received a message from eight years ago:
“This is my first New Year with Zhou Guming!”
“I want to be with Zhou Guming forever!”
“I will play the piano for my whole life!”
At the same time, the news on TV was reporting:
On New Year’s Day,
my husband Zhou Guming was attending my best friend’s piano recital.
I looked down at my deformed fingers, bound by chains.
After cutting my wrist with a piece of iron I’d hidden for a long time,
I struggled to type one line:
“Lili, keep going forward. Don’t look back.”
Chapter 1
On New Year's Day, my husband, Michael, was attending my best friend's solo concert.
I was locked in a room that kept releasing toxic gas.
I looked down at my deformed fingers bound by chains,
and after cutting my wrist with a piece of metal I'd hidden for a long time, I struggled to type a line on my phone.
[My husband is a murderer.]
Chapter 1
When I woke up again, I saw the hospital ceiling.
A sharp pain shot through my heart.
Why couldn't I even manage to die?
The person beside me noticed I was awake and quickly came over to check on me.
It was my husband, the high and mighty chairman of the Smith Group, Michael Smith.
His eyes were bloodshot, his face covered in stubble.
He looked at me through gritted teeth and said,
"You just had to cause trouble on New Year's Day."
"Just to compete with her for attention, you'd stoop to anything?"
"You knew perfectly well how important her violin solo concert was."
"If I didn't support her, how upset would she be?"
I thought hearing these words would break my heart, but I felt nothing but numbness inside.
"I just wanted to fulfill your wish."
They were the ones who locked me in that room constantly releasing toxic gas...
My hand gently brushed across Michael's cheek as I smiled at him and said,
"Michael, please, I'm begging you to let me go. Didn't we love each other before? This is my last request to you."
Michael held my hand and buried his face in my palm.
He used to do this often, and I used to love it.
It felt like he was giving all of himself to me.
"Lily, you know I love you so much. How can I live without you by my side? You don't like Isabella, but I don't love her at all. I'm with her because..."
He stopped halfway, thought for a moment, then said:
"From now on, I'll control her and won't let her send you photos anymore."
Looking at his handsome but fake face, I almost cried while smiling,
"Isabella's violin solo is important, but what about me?"
I held up my twisted fingers in front of him, "Just because I can't play piano anymore, does that make me unimportant?"
My fingers were broken because of him!
Michael just gently enclosed my hand in his,
"Let's not bring up the past, okay? Lily, you know I love you the most."
He reached out to hug me, but I turned away,
His gesture froze in mid-air. After a moment, he just gently stroked my hair,
"Don't be so foolish again, Lily. I'll always keep you by my side."
Looking at his creepy expression, I felt waves of cold wash over my heart.
He walked out of the hospital room. Watching his back, I suddenly lost control of my emotions,
"I hate you, Michael. You've ruined my entire life! I'll never forgive you!"
Michael paused for a moment, then turned back with a smile and said,
"Whether it's love or hate, as long as we're together, that's enough."
I suddenly felt drained of all energy, collapsed on the bed, covered my head and cried.
If this was such a toxic relationship, I'd rather die, but I couldn't even do that.
What was the point of living?
But soon, an idea began burning in my heart.
He was sick enough to want to keep me locked by his side—I just wouldn't let him have his way!
This strong desire quickly calmed me down.
I figured it out. I had to leave.
The sudden sound of high heels echoed from outside the hospital room. I looked up and was shocked to see Isabella Taylor.
She wore a white dress, her hair flowing smoothly over her shoulders, a stark contrast to me in my hospital gown.
She looked at me reaching out my hand and covered her mouth in surprise.
"Lily, what happened to you? How did you let yourself get into such a mess?"
Isabella walked over with a smile and sat down beside me, pulling out her phone.
She opened her photo album and scrolled to pictures from three years ago.
There I was, once shining brightly on stage—
wearing a cocktail dress, smiling confidently at the piano,
holding a gleaming trophy, posing with world-renowned masters,
traveling with Michael, smiling sweetly.
The phone screen went dark, and I saw my pale face reflected on it.
My heart ached.
I used to be so beautiful and full of life, but now I hardly existed any longer.
I closed my eyes in despair.
Isabella laughed, her voice dripping with mocking triumph:
"Lily Garcia, you were so enviable before. A piano prodigy married to her childhood sweetheart. But now, all of that is mine. Open your eyes and look at yourself now! Your fingers are useless! You can't get pregnant anymore!"
"I'm carrying your husband's child! I'm the genius now! What do you have left that's better than me!"
She covered her mouth and laughed wickedly,
then pulled out a violin case she'd brought with her.
"Lily, let me play a solo for you. No one wished you a Happy New Year, right? So let me wish you a Happy New Year!"
She closed her eyes and played "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star" with relish.
This piece was taught to her personally by my mother—
it was the first violin piece she ever learned.
Isabella was using my mother's kindness toward her
to cut into my heart, stroke by stroke,
leaving it bleeding and raw.
I wanted nothing more than to tear her apart with my own hands.
And I will. I swear it.
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