Marriage With A Evil Heart

My name is Daisy Smith, and I'm thirty years old.

Among my peers, I've always been the object of jealousy and admiration. I live in a standalone house in the upscale area of Newport, and my young, handsome, and considerate husband loves me very much. He is known as a perfect husband.

His name is Robert Brown, he turned out to be a semi-known senior stylist at a small boutique salon named "Tony's" . While I ran a medical equipment company with a prominent reputation for quality and earned a good annual income.

After marriage, I gave birth to three lovely and beautiful babies. Balancing both career and children, my husband felt I was working too hard. He voluntarily resigned to help manage the company, which flourished under his care. I became a full-time housewife, enjoying life while taking care of the family and children. In the eyes of my peers, we were the perfect family with a white picket fence.

However, recently, I've noticed that my body is deteriorating day by day-hair loss, excessive sleepiness, declining memory, physical emaciation, and mental lethargy. Every day feels like being in a dream.

My husband informed me of the doctor's diagnosis, saying I had a "Typical mental anxiety disorder". He sought renowned doctors who prescribed various medications, and the nanny was instructed to prepare and ensure I took them regularly.

To my utter astonishment, this was almost the beginning of the end of my life…

One day, I was awakened by a headache while in a deep sleep. As I struggled against drowsiness, the family cat accidentally knocked over the medication brought by the nanny and greedily licked up the spilled liquid.

When I fully woke up, he was already on the windowsill cozily licking his paws and washing his face.

Upon the nanny's arrival to pick up the bowl, I didn't press the issue, not wanting her to have to re-boil it.

To be honest, I had had enough of the medicine; if it wasn't for the fact that my husband put in sleepless nights to get me the best treatments from the best doctors as well as making sure I drink it on time, I'd be pouring it down the drain for sure.

Ever since I got sick, the responsibility of taking care of the family fell on our maid, who was called Sherry. She was constantly busy, with no time to rest, and sometimes I felt genuinely sorry for her.

After chatting with me for a while, she took the bowl and went out to do other chores.

I twisted my head back to look at the pillowcase, sure enough it was matted with black hair, a complete layer of shedding, looking quite alarming. I sighed, gathered the hair into a roll, and stuffed it into a pocket, intending to throw it in the bathroom trash later.

Suddenly, I was startled by a muffled 'bang' sound from behind!

I pressed my chest for a while before cautiously crawling to the other side of the bed. I found that the cat, which had been lazily grooming itself on the windowsill, had fallen to the ground. It lay there motionless, silent.

An ominous premonition struck me inexplicably. "Button!" I called out, and it remained still. "Button!" I called again, but there was no response.

A chill ran up my spine and the hairs upon the back of my neck stood tall.

"How could he just fall? Cats have excellent balance; how could he possibly fall from the windowsill, and in this state?" I wondered.

"Could it... be dead?!" My heart sank and shriveled, and I couldn't help but lean in to observe. I noticed its heavy breathing, not like death but a sleep, a very deep sleep. However, this sleep...