Revenge After a Fake Death

My business trip flight landed two hours early. I gripped the handle of my suitcase, my fingertips still cold from the airport. The wedding room key was pressing uncomfortably in my pocket—it was given to me by Chanel Keats herself last week, saying, "When you come back, we'll put up the wedding photos." The beep of the fingerprint lock going through sounded just as I was thinking about the milk tea flavor I wanted to bring her tonight. The moment I pushed the door open, the crystal chandelier in the living room flashed so brightly I could barely keep my eyes open. The bedroom door was slightly open, and familiar laughter spilled out. It was Chanel's voice, along with the low whisper of a man. I tiptoed over, my heart pounding wildly in my chest. The scene through the crack in the door stabbed my eyes like an ice pick. Chanel was wearing the silk nightgown I gave her, leaning against Morrison's chest. Morrison Young was her childhood friend; she had said, "Just a good friend." On the wedding bed behind them lay my tie and her hairpin, scattered. "What are you two doing?" My voice trembled, my hands clenched so tightly they turned white. Chanel whipped her head around, her face instantly turning deathly pale. Morrison remained calm, slowly straightening his shirt: "Chester, you really came back at the worst possible time." "This is my wedding room!" I yelled, rushing forward to pull them apart. Morrison suddenly shoved me, and I stumbled backward. I lost my grip on the railing at the top of the stairs and fell from the second floor. The searing pain in my back as I slammed onto the steps made my vision black out. "Chester!" Chanel ran down, stopping behind Morrison. Morrison crouched down and patted my cheek: "I have a psychiatric diagnosis. Even if I pushed you, I wouldn't go to jail." I tried to get up, but found my right leg wouldn't move. A thud echoed from the living room. It was my mother. She heard the noise, came out, and upon seeing the scene, trembled with anger before suddenly collapsing. "Mom!" I dragged my broken leg and slowly crawled closer. Her eyes were closed, and her breathing was shallow. "Call an ambulance!" I yelled at Chanel. She pulled out her cell phone, but Morrison held her back. "Wait for the police to arrive and explain who attacked first." "My mom is dying!" I screamed, tears streaming down my face. Chanel hesitated for a moment but still didn't make the call. By the time the ambulance arrived, my mother had already lost consciousness. In the hospital corridor, I held her hand, praying she would be okay. A nurse rushed over, her face panicked: "Mr. Perry, all the doctors have been reassigned by the Keats family, saying there's an emergency surgery." "What?" I couldn't believe it. "Where's Chanel? Get her here!" Chanel still hadn't shown up. Until dawn, my mother woke up once. She looked at me, her lips trembling: "Chester, why... why is your fiancée having a baby with someone else?" After saying that, her hand fell down. The ECG flattened into a straight line. I knelt by the bedside, crying like a child. My mother left me forever because of Chanel's cold indifference.