Chapter 7 - The Confession in the Empty House
A month later, I had to go back to our old house. Cameron had been ordered by the court to give me half of our assets, and I needed to get my medical licenses, my old med school diplomas, the photo albums of my family, all the things that were mine before I ever met him.
The house was quiet when I walked in, the furniture covered in white sheets, dust floating in the sunlight coming through the windows. It felt like a tomb. I went up to our old bedroom first, opening the closet to get the box of my things from the top shelf, when I heard the front door open and close.
Cameron stood in the bedroom doorway, unshaven, his clothes wrinkled, his eyes red and bloodshot. He’d lost weight, his usually perfect hair messy, and for a second, I almost felt sorry for him. Then I remembered the eight dead patients, my broken body, my son’s injured arm, and the pity was gone.
“What are you doing here?” I said, stepping back, my hand reaching for my phone in my pocket. “You’re not supposed to be within 500 feet of me. The judge—”
“I don’t care about the judge,” he said, his voice slurred, walking into the room. “I don’t care about anything anymore. You took everything from me, Amelia. My job, my license, Sophie left me—her dad cut her off because the scandal cost him too much money. I have nothing. Nothing but you.”
“Stay away from me,” I said, backing toward the door. “I’m calling the police.”
“Wait!” He held up his hands, like he was surrendering. “Wait. I just want to talk. I just want you to know the truth. All of it. Before I go.”
I hesitated, my finger hovering over the call button. I wanted to know. I wanted to hear him say it all, out loud, so I could finally be free of the questions that still woke me up at night. “You have two minutes.”
He sat down on the edge of the bed, his head in his hands. “I never loved you, Amelia. Not really. I married you because you were going to be Chief of ER. I thought if I was married to you, the board would see me as a family man, a stable man, and give me Chief of Surgery. But then you got the job first. You were better than me. Faster, smarter, everyone loved you. And I hated you for it.”
He looked up at me, his eyes empty. “Then Sophie came along. She was young, she looked up to me, she thought I was God. She made me feel like I was the best doctor in the world, even when I wasn’t. And when she started making mistakes? Killing people? I covered for her because if she went down, I went down. And if I went down, I’d never get that Chief of Surgery job. Everything I’d worked for my whole life would be gone.”
His voice dropped to a whisper. “That night in the delivery room? When she said you’d attacked her? I knew she was lying. I saw her dig her nails into your arm. I saw it. But I was so mad at you—so mad that you were still better than me, even when you were in labor, even when you were begging me for help—that I wanted to punish you. I turned off the epidural because I wanted you to hurt. I denied the C-section because I wanted you to fail. And when you coded? When you died on that table? For a second… I was relieved. Because if you were dead, I wouldn’t have to feel inferior anymore. I’d be the grieving widower, everyone would feel bad for me, and I’d still get the job.”
The words hung in the air, cold and ugly and true. I’d known it, deep down, but hearing him say it out loud was a different kind of pain. It was like he’d reached into my chest and ripped out the last tiny piece of the girl who’d loved him, the girl who’d thought they’d grow old together.
“You’re a monster,” I said, my voice steady, no tears left to cry. “You’re a cowardly, selfish monster.”
He stood up, walking toward me, and I realized he was holding something in his hand—a small silver knife, the one we’d used to cut our wedding cake. “I know,” he said, his voice breaking. “That’s why I can’t live with it. But if I’m going down, Amelia… you’re coming with me.”
He lunged. I screamed, ducking, the knife slicing through the sleeve of my jacket. I ran for the door, but he was faster, grabbing my hair, yanking me back. I kicked him in the knee as hard as I could, and he howled, letting go, and I ran down the stairs, out the front door, straight into the arms of two police officers.
Lila had noticed I was late coming home, she’d tracked my phone, she’d called the police the second she saw I was still at the house. They tackled Cameron as he ran out the door after me, the knife clattering on the porch, and cuffed him, reading him his rights as he screamed my name, screaming that he loved me, that he was sorry, that it was all a mistake.
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As they put him in the back of the squad car, I stood there on the lawn, watching, and felt nothing. No anger. No sadness. Just… empty. And then, slowly, a lightness. Like a weight I’d been carrying for seven years had finally been lifted off my shoulders.
It was over. Finally, really over.
