What Happens In The Ending Of Pretext For Mass Murder?

Before I could shove my wife, Cheryl Craig, into the ocean, I turned myself in. The security guard frowned. "What? Are you saying that you're going to kill someone on this cruise?" I nodded. "It's 5:05 p.m. right now. In 20 minutes, I'll push my wife off this cruise ship. You need to arrest me, now." He stared at me like I had lost my mind. "You've got to be kidding! I've never seen anyone confess before the crime." He waved me off and started to walk away, so I had no choice but to start smashing things in the lobby. Only when the cuffs snapped around my wrists did I finally breathe again. In my last life, Cheryl was pushed off this very ship and fell into the ocean. Before I could even finish arranging her funeral, the police came for me. The ship's security footage clearly showed me pushing her overboard, but at that exact time, I was in a room with my father. There was no way I could've done it. I asked my father to testify for me, but he said I had already been planning to kill Cheryl for the insurance money because my company was falling apart. In the end, I was sentenced to death for murder. Even as I faced execution, I still couldn't understand it. I didn't do it, so why did everyone insist that I had? When I opened my eyes again, I was back to before Cheryl fell into the ocean.

When finding evidence is by the skin of one's teeth, what price are you willing to lay to find the culprit?~~~She was just a typical girl from a not so typical family, who will seek justice after her loved ones' death. She was the only survivor in that death trap or at least that was what she knew. Their death wasn't just a mere tragedy, it was intentional. The purpose was to eradicate her clan, but they failed when she survived.When her only reason for living was taken away from her... What was left in her being were: hatred, anger and the burning fire to have her revenge, but it was hard to find since no obtainable evidence could uncover the culprit behind the terrible scheme.When her boss, turned lover, started to show affection, a beam of light was flashed in her being. The newly found solitude with him gradually replaced her negative feelings. But as another guy entered into the picture and claimed her to be his, it drifted her back to her intentions which led her to unravel some secrets she never thought existed. Join me as I lay pieces of information about the Culprit's real identity.

During the holiday, I took my whole family on a trip. Just as we were about to head back, more than ten police cars surrounded us at the guesthouse. The police showed a video. In it, under surveillance cameras, I drove to a forest near a popular tourist town the day before and dumped a corpse. Even more frightening, there was a strange woman sitting in the car. After throwing away the body, the two of us immediately engaged in intimate acts inside the car. Hannah Walker slapped me hard across the face. "No wonder you insisted on going to that tourist town to buy snacks for us—you were using it as an excuse to go on a date! "After doing something so inhumane, you still had the nerve to do such filthy things in the car?" However, yesterday, I had clearly gone to the town alone to buy snacks and returned. There was no such horrifying experience at all. Without another word, the police opened the trunk. When the searchlight swept across it, it was filled with bloodstains from the victim's body. In the corner, they also found the murder weapon with my fingerprints on it. I had no way to defend myself. I fell from being a rocket engineer, a hero in the country's aerospace field, to a death row prisoner. Due to the severity of the case, I was sent to the execution ground in less than a month. My parents and child, who had been on the trip with me, were blocked at the guesthouse by the victim's family and beaten to death. However, even as reality dawned on me, I still did not understand what had happened that day. When I opened my eyes again, I was back at the moment I was about to leave to buy snacks.

In the late stages of her pregnancy, my wife slipped away into the mountains with her childhood sweetheart, seeking some reckless thrill under the open sky. Fate, however, had other plans. She suffered a massive hemorrhage, and the two were rushed to the hospital. As a doctor, I took one glance at her condition and instructed the nurse to prepare for the cremation. In my previous life, I had risked everything to save her. On that very operating table, she and the child inside her perished together. Her childhood sweetheart, overcome with grief and fury, rallied others to accuse me of seeking personal revenge. Their rage was relentless, and they broke my hands. "A butcher like you, without medical ethics, deserves nothing less than eternal damnation!" they shouted, their words burning like brands on my soul. Yet I distinctly remembered—the surgery had been a success. Her vital signs had stabilized. Clinging to hope, I begged my in-laws to conduct an autopsy, to uncover the truth buried beneath the accusations. Instead, they called the police, who swiftly charged me with performing surgery under the influence of alcohol. Stripped of my rights, I was thrown into prison, where suffering became my only companion. Years later, upon release, I stumbled across a sight that tore what was left of my heart to shreds—my wife, alive and well, behind the wheel of a luxury car, accompanied by her childhood sweetheart and their child, living off the fortune I had worked tirelessly to build. Their betrayal didn't end there. Coldly and methodically, they lured me into a trap, casting me into a cement mixer to erase every trace of my existence. When I next opened my eyes, time had rewound itself. I was back on that fateful day, the one when her hemorrhage began.

After my younger brother died, my parents and grandfather all killed themselves. Each of them died in a different way, but they shared one thing in common: Before their deaths, every one of them had read my brother's suicide note. And in that note, there was only a single sentence. Reporters fought for a chance to interview me. The police interrogated me overnight. Countless people wanted to know what that sentence said. But I never told anyone. Until the tenth anniversary of my brother's death, when I saw a figure standing in front of his grave. At that moment, I felt an overwhelming sense of excitement. Because I knew my turn had finally come.

The day I recovered from my mental illness and got discharged, my parents held me in their arms with tears of happiness. My sister gave me a teddy bear and said she had been waiting for me to come home. I comforted my parents who were crying and accepted the gift from my sister. I slowly got used to ordinary life and became the real daughter of the Schmidt family. To show their preference for me, my parents transferred the family business into my name on my sister’s 18th birthday. But I cruelly murdered the family of three who cherished me on this day.