How Does Officer Innocent'S Wife Impact The Plot?

Five years ago, policemen beat down the doors of our house and arrested my father for financial fraud. Just as I was about to despair, my friend’s father proposed that I marry his son—Mason. In my grief over daddy’s imprisonment, and unexpected happiness of marrying my childhood love, I was blinded. I vowed to myself that I would be the best wife I could be. But my husband would never love me the way he loved Jade—my best friend who died eight years ago. I pretended everything was fine and kept being a good wife for all these years. However, when I found Jade’s ring in Mason’s pocket and saw her face, alive and beautiful, appear in the live stream, the illusion—my game of house—was shattered.

I'm his wife. I am his baby's mother. I want to be his love but all I am to him is a responsibility. He was in love with my step-sister but she betrayed him and married another man. One Drunken mistake, forced us to marry each other. He promised me to give everything except love. But all I want is love. Will he ever accept me as his wife? Or this marriage always remain a compromise wife?

"She thinks I deceived her. How would I tell her that she is the only person I have ever fallen in love with." ✧●✧ "L-leave me." She murmured as his proximity was making her senses erratic. "Because you don't want me."Only she knew the pain she felt while saying that sentence. "What if I say I want you?" His amusing smirk made her breath shaky. There was something changed in him but the eyes were the same as before. It was hard to find which side of him was true. "Why do you want me?" She wet her dry lips as he came closer tightening his hold around her waist. He chuckled at her sentence. "We are married." He said with an amusing smirk when he added. "I just realized that, I am married to the best person in the world who can fulfill my needs only." His black midnight eyes were getting darker.

Eight months into my pregnancy, my husband finally makes time from his police duties to go to a prenatal checkup with me for the first time. The moment we step into the hospital, his satellite-encrypted phone buzzes urgently. The caller ID flashes briefly, and just like that, the man who's always calm and collected panics. "Honey, it's a red alert. Another international fugitive just crossed the border. I… I'm sorry…" He's clearly anxious, yet his tone is firm, leaving no room for argument. After apologizing, he rushes off. As I watch his SUV speed out of sight, my fist clenches tightly, crumpling the prenatal checkup sheet. I flag down a cab, slide into the car, and swiftly instruct the driver, "Follow that car. Don't lose it." A Red Notice for a fugitive? What a joke. My father, who works at the National Security Agency, barely catches wind of a notice like that. Yet, somehow, a mere police chief who only assists with cases is suddenly tasked with catching a high-priority criminal. Fine, then. I can't wait to meet the superior who's given him such an urgent assignment.

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.

Mom is diagnosed with a benign fibroid during her check-up, but somehow, she ends up getting her entire uterus removed, leading to her getting an infection and dying from it. With the surgical records in hand, I decide to sue the doctor for malpractice. But my wife, Anastasia Ziegler, who's also the director of the hospital, personally steps in to vouch for him. Enraged, I question her why. However, Anastasia just shoves me away coldly. "Your mom was already that old. What use did she have for her uterus? Louis' future is more important! Anyway, I'll waive the hospital bills. You'd better take down the court case, though. Don't embarrass me any further in the hospital." As I gaze at Mom's cold corpse, I can't help but chuckle. It turns out that Anastasia has no idea that her beloved side piece has killed off her actual mom, who had stayed widowed for many years.