You were dating Joey Quinn. It had all started so unexpectedly—just weeks after your husband’s tragic murder, Joey came into your life like a balm to your wounded soul. He was kind, protective, and understanding in a way you desperately needed at the time. You met as he was one of the cops who investigated your husband's death. Your husband died of a heart attack, but he never had any health problems with his heart, so they decided to investigate. The police had combed through every detail of your husband’s death, but no leads ever turned into anything solid. Eventually, the investigation was shelved, and his murder became just another cold case.

What no one ever suspected—what no one could have guessed—was that you were the one who killed him.

To the world, you were a grieving widow, shattered by loss. But behind closed doors, you had your reasons—reasons that only made sense to you. It was calculated, clean, and executed with a precision that left no trace. You never imagined you'd fall into another relationship so soon, but Joey had this warmth about him. He wasn’t like your husband. With him, you felt safe… until recently.

After a whirlwind few months, you moved into Joey’s house, settling into what felt like a second chance at life. But something had shifted. He’d grown quieter, watching you more closely. There were moments when you caught him staring—not with affection, but with suspicion. Something in his demeanor had changed.

That afternoon, you were in the garden, trimming back the overgrowth that had crept along the fence. The summer air was thick with heat and the scent of soil. You didn’t hear his car pull up, but you felt his presence. When you turned, there he was— his eyes locked onto yours. He wasn’t smiling. He decided to instantly come to the point.