When Love Becomes a Cage (Melanie)

Chapter 78



I was frantically sorting through documents while continuously ringing up Clyde, but eventually, his phone just went dead.

My heart sank. I checked in with Gemma, who thought Clyde had probably gone home to grab some files, prompting me to rush back to our apartment.

"Clyde, are you here? Clyde?"

The place was dark, no signs of anyone being home.

But spotting the shoe prints in the living room, I was certain Clyde had been there.

I hurried into the bedroom, and there he was, unconscious on the bed, unresponsive no matter how much I shook him.

Feeling his wrist, I sighed in relief finding a pulse.

With the Patterson Group facing such turmoil, something felt off. If Clyde was in trouble now, it could spell disaster for the entire firm.

I quickly dialed 911, then reached out to the building's management.

"I'm Mrs. Patterson, Clyde's wife. He's been attacked in our building. I need access to all the security footage now!"

"The woman he brought home is a prime suspect. If you try to cover for her, you'll be joining her behind bars!"

It was my first time leveraging my status as Mrs. Patterson, and it took the other end by surprise. They immediately started to apologize, promising to check the security footage right away.

I couldn't figure out why Clyde was unconscious, but a faint scent of perfume lingered on him, strikingly similar to Kayla's, my once favorite fragrance. I had bumped into Kayla earlier, enveloped in that very scent.

When the paramedics arrived, I followed them into the ambulance.

After the doctors examined him, it turned out Clyde had ingested a significant amount of sleeping pills.

The doctor looked at me uncomfortably, "Mrs. Patterson, given the rumors about your company... we thought maybe your husband..."

"No way, that's not him."

I firmly dismissed the suggestion. Clyde was neither cowardly nor irresponsible.

With a crisis at the site, his priority would be to console the family of the deceased and investigate the cause. The idea of him taking his own life was unthinkable to me.

The doctor nodded, handing me a consent form.

"He needs his stomach pumped, and there might be other procedures needed. We need your signature."

Holding the pen, my hand trembled, but I took a deep breath to steady myself.

I knew what Clyde meant to the Patterson family, and I couldn't let him die on my watch.

This was the first time I was signing

something as his wife, apart from our marriage certificate. I

instively touched my left ring finger, feeling its emptiness, a sourness in my heart.

When Jade called, the building management had already provided her the security footage. Sure enough, Kayla had come home with Clyde but left an hour later.

"Melanie, should we call the police? What did you need at your place?"

"Check the surveillance in the jewelry cab. It turns on automatically if someone opens the cab."

That was something Gemma had installed as a precaution against me, never imagining it would become crucial evidence.

Jade followed my instructions but found the camera destroyed, memory card missing.

"That's a big loophole," I realized, telling Jade to stop tampering with the surveillance system.

If Kayla was behind this, she might have known about the camera and prepared accordingly, perhaps even wearing gloves to avoid leaving fingerprints.

"Melanie, you think Kayla did this? I saw the footage; she was definitely here."

Jade could draw the same conclusions I did.

I asked her to change the locks on my door before returning home.

Meanwhile, Clyde had his stomach pumped but remained unconscious.

The doctors suspected other drugs might be involved, so immediate awakening wasn't possible, pending further tests.

Ensuring his vital signs were stable, I finally breathed easier.

As long as he could wake up, we could handle anything.

But with Clyde out, the site issue couldn't be ignored.

The project manager had called me earlier, saying the victim's family had brought the press to make a scene, and to my surprise, York had beaten me there.

Watching the live stream, York looked prepared, his suit crisp, hair slicked back.

"Ladies and gentlemen, the

Patterson Group will handle this

situation with the utmost care," York

declared, pledging a resolution.

within three days on behalf of the

company, even offering to

personally compensate if necessary.

York, the Laird's son, whom I never had `faith in, seemed to be

overing his bounds. Despite

Clyde's belief in York's decency, my instincts told me otherwise.

The fact that York, an outsider, dared to speak for the Patterson Group while actual project managers were on site was outrageous.

Turning off my phone, I looked towards Clyde, still in a deep slumber.

"Once this mess is sorted, you can rest all you want. But for now, could you please wake up?"