Or Until the Mouse Trap Snaps
The Perfectly Imperfect Family
Let me take you on a journey to the quaint, gossip-fueled town of Spinster, population: less than four thousand, where everyone knows everyone, and secrets are as rare as a quiet day at a toddler’s birthday party.
Let’s start with the basics. My name is Dr. Pattern Rothwilles-Berrycloth, I am better known as Tren by friends and Dr. Pattern to my patients. I’m a neurologist by day, a nocturnist by night, and a widow by… well, let’s just say life took a sharp left turn.
My late husband, Alex, was a mathematician who specialized in mechanics. Think of him as the guy who could calculate the trajectory of a falling apple while also building a better mousetrap. (Yes, the mousetrap metaphor will make sense later. Stay with me.)
We met in college—me, a sixth-year med student; him, a fresh-faced 18-year-old with a brain bigger than his ego. Five years apart? Pfft. Age is just a number, and we were too busy being brilliant to care. Fast forward through years of love, laughter, and a very unconventional marriage, and we had our daughter, Rae. She was the apple of Alex’s eye, the kind of kid who only wanted Daddy to hold her, Daddy to read to her, and Daddy to show up at every school event. Me? I was just the milk machine. But hey, I wasn’t jealous. Much.
Our marriage wasn’t exactly Hallmark material. We were open, honest, and occasionally invited “special guests” into our lives. Yes, I’m winking. Use your imagination. But here’s the thing: we were obsessed with each other. We knew everything about each other. Or so I thought.
Luxury, Lies, and a Side of Infidelity😆
Seven months ago, things started to unravel. Alex was coming home less often, claiming work was “crazy.” Meanwhile, I found out from our financial advisor’s wife –because, of course, Spinster runs on gossip – that he’d bought a townhouse and a brand new fully loaded Maserati Levante Trofeo. Paid in full. No big deal, right? Except he hadn’t mentioned it to me. And the car’s license plate? “Astrid.” What the actual fuckery
Cue the dramatic music.
Astrid wasn’t just any mistress. She was 19. Nineteen. As in, “I was wearing diapers when you were in med school” nineteen. And here’s the kicker: she was the best friend of Alex’s niece. I’ll let that sink in for a moment.
When I confronted her—because, of course, I showed up at the townhouse in lingerie, ready to “surprise” my husband—she dropped the bomb: Alex had proposed. They were planning to get married. Oh, and he’d told her we were separated. Spoiler alert: we weren’t.
File for Divorce, Stay for Dessert
Alex came clean. He wanted a divorce. He is in love with Astrid. He wanted to start over. And here’s the kicker: he was being fair. He didn’t want half of our assets. He wanted me to keep everything. He even left me as the second beneficiary on his life insurance. Astrid was the first. More on that later.
We had dinner that night. Talked for hours. He made me tea. Kissed me on the forehead. Told me he loved me. And then he left. It was heartbreaking, but I couldn’t hate him. He was following his heart, even if it led him straight into a midlife crisis.
Astrid Vanished; Alex Perished
Fast forward a few weeks. Rae was home for the summer, and I was planning a lavish trip to Aruba and Dubai. Because if you’re going to drown your sorrows, do it in style.
Then, tragedy struck. The doorbell rang. It was the police, Alex was found dead, and Astrid disappeared, automatically making her the prime suspect. The cops thought she did it. After all, she’d packed her bags, disconnected her phone, and taken money from the safe. The police investigated me, I had an alibi. But here’s the thing: I wasn’t so sure Astrid did it. Because while everyone was pointing fingers at Astrid, I was sitting on a secret.
On the bright side,Alex’s death left me with a substantial life insurance payout; Five million dollars, to be exact, which I put into a trust fund for Rae.
Speaking of Rae, she’s now a medical student, following in her parents’ footsteps. As for Astrid… well, let’s just say some mysteries are better left unsolved.
The Mouse Trap
Remember how I said Alex was a mathematician who specialized in mechanics? Well, let’s just say I learned a thing or two from him. Like how to set a trap.
You see, when Alex came over to discuss the divorce, I convinced him to have Astrid take out five separate life insurance policies on him, which paying out a million dollars; You know, just in case. I also suggested making me the second beneficiary. And while he was washing dishes, I may or may not have slipped his house keys off his keychain. Just a little insurance policy of my own. I submitted a proposal to split our assets fifty-fifty and took Rae to visit my parents, unwittingly having my mother buy…
Wait, what? Oh, you thought I was going to spill all the beans. Well, let’s just say that in Spinster, nothing is as it seems, and sometimes, the truth is stranger—and darker—than fiction.
So…….
So, dear friends, what do you think happened next? Did Astrid really disappear, or was there more to her story? And what about Alex’s death? Was it an accident, or was there a more sinister plot at play?
Don’t look at me for answers I was cleared by the police. The answers lie in the shadows of Spinster, waiting to be uncovered.
Also don’t forget that life is messy. Love is complicated. And sometimes, the best way to catch a mouse is to let it think it’s won. So, the next time you find yourself in a sticky situation, remember stay clever, stay calm, and always have a backup plan. Because in the game of love and betrayal, the best traps are the ones no one sees coming.
And if you ever find yourself in Spinster, don’t ask about the widow with the twinkle in her eye. Some stories are best left to the imagination. Until next time, keep your friends close, your enemies closer, and your life insurance policies even closer.
Wow..depth …u left me hanging!!!