Frozen Assets

“How’s the water temperature, honey?” Caleb Rivers stared at the woman in the bathtub — she had stopped struggling — and laughed like a man who had lost his mind. For a $300 million inheritance. To marry his pregnant mistress. Caleb had held his wife’s head underwater with his own hands until she stopped breathing. But when he turned to dispose of the body, he realized the woman he had just killed was his mistress. At that same moment, a high-definition video landed on his phone. His wife — who was supposed to be dead — was sitting on the deck of a cruise ship, swirling a glass of red wine, smiling at him with cold amusement: “Darling, are you happy with the little gift I left you?” Water splashed across the bathroom floor. Caleb pressed the back of the woman’s head down hard, the veins on his hand bulging. The water in the bathtub churned violently. The woman thrashed beneath the surface, her hands clawing desperately at Caleb’s arms. Her nails dug deep into his flesh, dragging long, ragged scratches across his skin. Blood ran down his forearm and dripped onto the pure white edge of the bathtub — a sight that turned the stomach. But Caleb didn’t let go. He pressed harder, forcing her head deeper underwater. “Don’t blame me, Veronica.” He spoke through gritted teeth, his face twisted with the effort. “Blame yourself for refusing to step aside. Blame yourself for being barren — for standing in the way of my son!” The struggling beneath the surface grew weaker. Bubbles rose from the bottom of the tub, fewer and fewer, until there were none at all. The woman’s hands went limp and drifted in the water like strands of seaweed. Caleb stood there, breathing hard, eyes locked on the blurred shape of her face beneath the surface. He held on for a full five minutes before he finally let go. His legs gave out. He slid down onto the wet tile floor, gulping in air thick with steam. His head was buzzing. Not with fear. With euphoria — three years of suppressed rage finally set free. Veronica Rose was dead. That cold, untouchable woman who had always looked at him like she was doing him a favor — she was finally dead. Starting today, the New Energy Technology Company in her name — valued at $300 million — belonged to him. Not only would he have the money, he could finally bring Monica Bennett‌ home without hiding a thing. Monica was carrying his child. A boy. “Sir… are you in there?” Mary, the housekeeper, spoke from outside the bathroom door, her voice small and trembling. Caleb’s whole body went rigid. A flash of cold violence crossed his eyes. He shot to his feet, grabbed a bath towel, and threw it over the bathtub, covering the pale body beneath. “What is it?” He kept his voice low, forcing it to sound calm. “Ma’am… ma’am isn’t picking up her phone. The office called — they said there’s an urgent document she needs to sign…” Mary’s voice came through the door, edged with unease. “She’s in the bath. She can’t come pick up he phone. Leave the document in the living room — I’ll bring it to her.” “But… I thought I heard something — a really loud noise coming from in there…” The door handle turned. Caleb’s pupils shrank. The bathroom door swung open a crack. Mary pushed her head through. Her gaze moved past Caleb and landed on the bathtub covered by the towel. One corner of the towel had slipped. A pale, stiff arm was showing. Dark bruises from the struggle still marked the skin. The color drained from Mary’s face. Her knees buckled, and she nearly hit the floor. “Ma’am… ma’am…” “Shut up!” Caleb lunged at her. He grabbed her by the collar, hauled her into the bathroom, and slammed the door behind them, twisting the lock. “What are you doing?! You killed her! I’m calling the police!” Mary fought back hard, reaching into her pocket for her phone. Caleb was faster. He ripped the phone from her hand and hurled it at the wall. The screen shattered. “Call the police?” Caleb let out a cold laugh. He reached back and grabbed the marble candle holder sitting on the vanity. Without a moment’s hesitation, he brought it down hard on the back of Mary’s head. Thud. A dull, heavy sound. Mary didn’t even have time to scream. Her eyes rolled back, and she crumpled into a heap on the floor, blood pooling around her. Caleb dropped the bloodied candle holder and looked down at the two bodies on the floor. A slow, cruel smile spread across his face. “Anyone who gets in my way dies.” Then — a fist hammering against the door from outside. “Caleb! Open up! Why is this door locked in the middle of the day! Where’s that little bitch Veronica? Tell her to come out here and make me something to eat!” It was Caleb’s mother. Brenda Rivers. Caleb took a deep breath, grabbed a towel to wipe the blood from his hands, and opened the bathroom door. Brenda was standing right outside, muttering curses under her breath, a bag of live fish from the market still dangling from her hand. She took one look at Caleb covered in blood, then at Mary lying on the bathroom floor — and her hand jerked in shock. The fish slipped free and flopped around on the tiles. “What… what the hell happened?!” Brenda’s eyes went wide, her voice shaking uncontrollably. Caleb grabbed her arm and pulled her into the bathroom, pointing at the bathtub. “Mom, Veronica’s dead.” Brenda sucked in a sharp breath. Her legs gave out and she collapsed onto the toilet seat. “You… you actually killed her? Weren’t we supposed to stage a car accident next month? How could you do this at home!” “She started going through the company accounts today. I can’t keep the embezzlement hidden much longer. Next month is too late.” Caleb’s jaw tightened. “Mom, stop talking and help me get rid of the body.” Brenda stared at the pale hand hanging over the edge of the bathtub and shook her head frantically. “I can’t… I can’t handle blood… Son, this is murder — we could get the death penalty!” “Death penalty?!” Caleb grabbed Brenda by the collar and yanked her up, his eyes bloodshot. “She’s dead, which means three hundred million in assets is ours. You’re always going on about wanting a big house and grandkids, aren’t you? If we clean this up, all of that is ours!” The words three hundred million and grandkids hit Brenda like a switch. The fear in her eyes vanished, replaced instantly by greed. She bit her lip and pushed herself to her feet. “You’re right! For my grandkids! The bitch died well!” Brenda rolled up her sleeves, exposing her thick arms. “So what do we do, son? Chop her up and flush her down the drain?” “No time for that. Get her into the chest freezer in the basement for now. Tonight I’ll drive her out to the incinerator outside the city.”

The basement was cold and damp. Together, Caleb and Brenda dragged the body — stuffed inside a black plastic bag — across the floor to the oversized chest freezer against the wall. Veronica had bought that freezer herself, to store imported seafood. Now it was going to be her coffin. “Open it.” Caleb ordered, breathing hard. Brenda’s hands trembled as she lifted the freezer door. It was packed full of frozen meat. Caleb didn’t care. He shoved the bag in anyway. There wasn’t enough room. The legs stuck out over the edge. “Push them in!” Caleb snapped at Brenda, his eyes wild. Brenda gritted her teeth, pressed both hands down hard on the knees, and forced them down. Crack. The lower leg bones snapped. Brenda flinched at the sound, but Caleb didn’t stop. He folded the legs in and jammed them into the gap along the side of the freezer. Then he grabbed the frozen pork sitting nearby and layered it on top of the body, piece by piece. Thud. The freezer door slammed shut. Caleb pulled out the plug and let out a long, slow breath. Then, from upstairs — the doorbell. Ding-dong. Ding-dong. It rang fast and sharp, echoing through the empty house like an alarm. Brenda flinched so hard she nearly fell, clutching Caleb’s arm with both hands. “Who is that? In the middle of the day!” Caleb’s brow furrowed. He pressed a finger to his lips. He crept up the stairs and into the living room, lifting the edge of the curtain to peer outside. Two uniformed cops were standing at the front gate. One of them is pressing the doorbell. “Co— cops!” Caleb’s breath caught. Cold sweat soaked through his shirt instantly. Brenda had followed him up. The moment she heard the word cops, her eyes rolled back and she started to crumple. Caleb grabbed a fistful of her hair and hauled her upright. “Shut up,” he hissed, glaring at her. “swallow it!” “It had to be Mary, that old woman!” He remembered now — Mary was timid by nature, but completely loyal to Veronica. She’d been right outside the bathroom door earlier. She must have sensed something was wrong and set up a scheduled emergency text in advance, or sent a message to her daughter away at college. “What do we do, son? The cops are at the door, we’re done!” Brenda slapped herself on the face in a panic. “Calm down! Go to the kitchen and wash the dishes. Act like nothing happened!” Caleb took a deep breath, scrubbed his hands furiously with soap to get rid of the smell of blood, then arranged his face into an expression of mild annoyance and walked to the front door. He pulled it open. Two officers stood on the front steps, their sharp eyes scanning him. “Caleb?” The younger cop’s hand rested on the body camera clipped to his belt, his tone hard. “We received a call reporting a violent assault at this address.” Caleb blinked, then let out an exaggerated laugh. “Officers, what are you talking about? A violent assault?” “The caller gave her name as Mary. She said she works here as your housekeeper.” The older cop fixed his gaze on Caleb’s eyes. “Where is she?” “Mary?” Caleb rubbed his temple and sighed. “She stole some of my wife’s jewelry this afternoon. My wife caught her and quit her. She’s probably holding a grudge and filed a false report just to mess with us.” The older cop said nothing. His nose twitched. “Strong smell of disinfectant.” He lifted his head sharply, his gaze cutting past Caleb’s shoulder into the interior of the house. “Scrubbing floors in the middle of the day?” Caleb’s heart skipped a beat. He forced himself to stay calm. “We have a dog. Goes wherever it wants. My mom’s a clean freak — she’s been disinfecting.” “We’ve been standing at the door for five minutes,” the younger cop said coldly. “Didn’t hear any dog bark.” “It’s at the pet shop.” Caleb didn’t flinch. The older cop stared at him for a full ten seconds. “Alright. A report was filed, so we need to do a routine check. Where’s your wife? please have her come out.” “She’s on a business trip. Left this afternoon.” “Where to? What’s her flight number?” The older cop pressed. “She… she went to San Francisco. Drove herself there.” The older cop nodded, then suddenly stepped forward into the house. “Show us around.” Caleb had no way to stop him. He had no choice but to follow. The house was eerily quiet. Brenda was standing in the kitchen doorway, a dish rag in her hand, her legs trembling so badly she could barely stand. When she saw the officers, the color drained from her face. Her lips quivered. She couldn’t get a single word out. “Ma’am.” The older cop narrowed his eyes. “Why are you shaking?” “I’m… I’m not. I’m just cold.” Brenda stammered. The older cop ignored her and walked straight into the kitchen. His eyes swept the room and landed on the door leading down to the basement. Caleb’s heart shot into his throat. He clenched both fists so hard his nails dug into his palms. “What’s down there?” The older cop pointed at the door. “Storage. Just junk.” Caleb managed a thin smile. “Let’s take a look.” The older cop reached for the door handle. He can’t go down there. The basement didn’t just have the chest freezer with the body in it — Mary was down there too, knocked out and chained to the heating pipe. Out of the corner of his eye, Caleb spotted a pot on the kitchen counter. A fresh batch of bone Broth , still boiling hot. He didn’t hesitate for a second. He lunged forward, grabbed the pot, and let his foot slip out from under him. “Whoa—!” The entire pot of bone broth came down squarely on Brenda’s arm and back. “AHHH—!!” Brenda let out a bloodcurdling scream and collapsed to the floor, writhing and clutching her arm. The skin turned red and blistered almost instantly. It was brutal. “Mom! Are you okay!” Caleb threw himself toward her, his face twisted in exaggerated horror. The sudden chaos caught both officers off guard. The older cop immediately let go of the door handle and rushed over. “Quick — run it under cold water! She needs to get to a hospital!” The kitchen erupted into pandemonium. Caleb seized the moment. He scooped Brenda up and bolted for the door, shouting as he ran: “Officers, my mom’s burns are serious — I have to get her to the ER right now! The whole report was a misunderstanding, I swear. I’ll have my wife come to the station first thing tomorrow morning to withdraw the case!” The older cop frowned and see blistering burns covering Brenda’s skin. Finally, he waved them off. “Go. But tomorrow, ten a.m. — your wife comes in. In person.” “Absolutely. We’ll be there!” Caleb shoved Brenda into the car and floored it out of the neighborhood. He watched the police cruiser shrink in the rearview mirror until it disappeared. Then he let out a long, slow breath.

He dropped Brenda off at an urgent care clinic — she was wailing the entire way — and left her there to get her burns treated. Then he drove back to the house alone. Night had fallen. The house was dead silent. Down in the basement, the unplugged chest freezer sat in the dark, still radiating a faint, cold chill. Caleb sank into the couch and light up three cigarettes back-to-back. His fingers still wouldn’t stop shaking. He owned an abandoned medical waste processing plant on the outskirts of the city. Inside sat a compact, ultra-high-temperature incinerator. Toss a body in, and within a few hours, there’d be nothing left — not even bone fragments. His mind made up, he crushed out his cigarette and strode down into the basement. He threw open the freezer lid. A wave of thick, metallic blood smell hit him, mixed with the raw stench of frozen pork. Caleb shoved aside the frozen cuts of meat on top, revealing the body crammed inside — twisted and folded into an unnatural shape. “Veronica, don’t blame me for being heartless. Blame yourself for being too pushy.” He let out a cold laugh, grabbed the body by the shoulders, and hauled it toward him. The body was heavy, and it had been packed in too tight. It took everything he had to drag her down onto the floor. Under the harsh white light of the basement ceiling, he finally got a clear look at the face. The skin was unnaturally pale and bloated — waterlogged, then frozen. Tangled hair was plastered across the face like something out of a nightmare. Disgusting. Caleb grabbed a nearby towel and wiped at the face, clearing away the moisture so the body bag wouldn’t soil his car later. He pressed the towel down and scrubbed twice. The water was gone. And with it — accidentally yanked free — came a black wig. A cascade of chestnut-brown, long wavy curls spilled out beneath it. Caleb froze. Veronica never permed her hair. She always wore it straight and black. The towel hung motionless in his hand as his eyes locked onto the face he’d just wiped clean. His pupils shrank to pinpoints. His heart felt like an invisible fist had just crushed it. The features were slightly distorted from asphyxiation, but there was no mistaking them. Delicate. Pretty. A faint beauty mark at the corner of one eye. This was… “M… Monica?” A broken, inhuman sound crawled out of Caleb’s throat. His legs gave out, and he dropped straight to his knees. How could it be Monica?! The one who was supposed to die was Veronica! He had held her down with his own hands! Right then. His phone, still in his pocket, erupted into violent, frantic vibrations. The screen blazed with harsh white light in the dark basement. Incoming video call. Contact name: [My Wife Veronica] Caleb’s hands were shaking as he scrambled backward, nearly crawling. His fingers trembled as he hit accept. The call connected. On the screen — no hell. No ghost. Veronica was draped across a leather sofa, wearing a deep wine-red silk slip. Relaxed. Unhurried. She swirled a half-glass of red wine in her hand, her eyes sharp and cold. She looked straight into the camera, and the corners of her lips curved into a smile Caleb had never seen before — slow, deliberate, and deeply unsettling. “Hey, honey.” Her voice was soft. Gentle as a blade dipped in poison. “Did you enjoy the little surprise I prepared for you?” “AHHH——!!!” Caleb hurled the phone at the ground like a man losing his mind, clutching his head and letting out a raw, ragged scream. The screen shattered — but the call stayed connected. Veronica’s quiet laughter drifted out through the cracked speaker, floating through the empty basement like a whisper from something that shouldn’t exist. “What’s wrong? Can’t bring yourself to look at your precious girl?” Caleb lunged forward, snatched the phone off the ground, and screamed into the broken screen. “Veronica! You sick, twisted — what did you DO?! Why is it Monica?! WHY IS IT HER?!” “Keep your voice down. You’ll wake the neighbors.” Veronica took a slow sip of wine, looking at him the way someone looks at a pile of trash. “Already falling apart? Caleb, you held her underwater yourself. You watched her struggle and go still. You were smiling.” “Bullsh*t! That was YOU! YOU were the one who was supposed to die!” Caleb shrieked, his face a mess of tears and snot. “Are you blind?” Veronica let out a cold laugh and tilted the camera closer. “Monica showed up at the villa this afternoon. Said she was carrying your son. Told me to step aside.” “All I did was slip a little something into her tea — just a sleeping pill — and then I called in a special makeup effects Artist. Hollywood-level work. Put my silicone face mask on her. Added the wig.” “Then I changed her into my clothes and put her in the bathtub.” Veronica paused. When her eyes came back to the camera, they were glacial. “Caleb, you couldn’t even tell your own wife had been replaced by someone else. Just how badly did you want me dead?” The cold hit Caleb all at once, like he’d been dropped into ice water. Special effects makeup?A mask? He stared at the body on the floor — and finally understood why, when he’d wiped her face just now, a thin, filmy layer had peeled away with the towel. “You… you set me up!” Caleb hissed through clenched teeth, wishing he could reach through the screen and strangle her. “Set you up?” Veronica burst out laughing, laughing so hard tears nearly streamed down her face. “Caleb, you’re the one who pushed her underwater with your own hands. What exactly did I set you up to do? All I did was give you a stage to show your true colors.” “You’re insane! I’m calling the police! I’m going to tell them everything — this was all your doing!” Caleb grabbed his car keys and made a dash for the door. “Go ahead. Call them.” Veronica calmly picked up a tablet and tapped the screen a few times. Ding. A file landed on Caleb’s phone. “Open it.” Caleb’s hands trembled as he tapped it open. It was a crystal-clear security footage clip. The video showed him, face twisted with rage, holding “Veronica” underwater. Then he smashed a vase over Mary’s head. And finally, he and his mother huddled in the living room, plotting how to dispose of the body. Every move. Every word. Even the sick grin on his face — all of it captured in perfect detail. “So tell me — when the police see this footage, do you think they’ll believe you were set up? Or do you think they’ll believe you murdered a pregnant woman carrying your child, just to steal her assets, and then tried to destroy the evidence?” Veronica’s voice coiled around his throat like a viper, squeezing tight. Caleb’s legs gave out completely. He crumpled to the floor, his phone slipping from his fingers. “What… what do you want from me?” he asked, his voice hollow with despair. “Simple.” Veronica’s smile vanished. Her eyes turned to ice. “Tomorrow morning at nine o’clock, bring every company seal and all shareholder certificates. You’re going to sign a full transfer agreement — no compensation, nothing.” “Walk away with nothing and get out of my sight.” “Otherwise, I’ll personally hand this footage over to the homicide unit.” The call ended. Caleb sat motionless in the blood-soaked floor, staring at Monica’s pale, lifeless face. Transfer his shares? Walk away with nothing? No. That was money he had spent three years swallowing his pride to get his hands on. If he burned the body tonight and dealt with Mary, there would be no evidence. What could Veronica possibly use against him? Yes. No body, no case. A flash of cold, desperate madness crossed Caleb’s eyes. He reached down and grabbed the woven bag off the floor.

3:00 a.m. An abandoned medical waste incineration facility on the outskirts of the city. The air reeked of scorched, acrid smoke. Caleb worked like a machine that didn’t know how to stop, forcing Monica’s body into the high-temperature incinerator. He watched the roaring flames swallow the body of the woman he had once been obsessed with. Tears rolled silently down his face. “Mon, I’m sorry. Baby, I’m so sorry.” He bit down on his lip until it split open. Blood seeped into his mouth, metallic and sharp. “I swear I’ll make her pay. I’m going to make Veronica’s life a living hell.” Hours later, nothing remained in the incinerator but ash. Caleb swept the ash into a black plastic bag and dumped it into the drainage ditch behind the facility. When it was done, he drove straight back to the city, showered, and changed into a tailored suit. At nine o’clock sharp, he was seated in the chairman’s office on the top floor of the company. There was a board meeting today. He planned to announce that Veronica had suffered a sudden mental breakdown and had been sent abroad for intensive psychiatric treatment — and that he would be taking full control of the company. Once he had a firm grip on the finances, he’d hire someone to take care of Veronica for good. “Caleb, all the board members are here.” His assistant knocked and stepped inside. Caleb straightened his tie, satisfaction spreading across his face, and pushed open the conference room door. “Everyone, I’ve called this emergency meeting to share some unfortunate news.” He arranged his expression into something appropriately somber and made his way to the head of the table. “My wife, Veronica, has been suffering from severe depression for some time now. Last night, she had a sudden manic episode and was rushed to a psychiatric facility overnight…” BANG! The heavy double doors of the conference room exploded open from the outside, kicked in with a single blow. Eight bodyguards in black suits and dark sunglasses filed in and lined up on either side of the entrance. Veronica walked in behind them. She wore a sharp white blazer, four-inch heels clicking against the floor, commanding the entire room without saying a word. Dead silence fell over the conference room. Every board member stared at her, stunned. The muscles in Caleb’s face locked up instantly. He looked like he’d seen a ghost. “How… how are you here?” The words fell out of his mouth before he could stop them. Veronica didn’t even glance at him. She walked straight to the head of the table. “Caleb.” Her voice was quiet, but it hit him like a slap. “How does it feel, sitting in my seat?” “Security! Where’s security? Get this woman out of here!” Caleb exploded, his composure shattering completely. Nobody moved. Veronica reached into her bag and pulled out a thick stack of documents, slamming them onto the conference table with a sharp crack. “Ladies and gentlemen of the board — this is the complete evidence of Caleb’s embezzlement, kickback schemes, and off-the-books accounts over the past two years. All carried out using his position in this company.” “The total amount involved is twenty-five million dollars.” The room erupted. The board members grabbed the documents and passed them around, their expressions growing darker by the second. “You’re lying! These are all fake!” Caleb lunged forward, trying to snatch the papers. Two bodyguards stepped in and pinned him to the table like he weighed nothing, pressing his face against the cold surface. “Fake?” Veronica looked down at him. “The CFO gave us everything last night. He’s sitting in a room with financial crimes detectives right now.” Something exploded in Caleb’s head. He went completely blank. The CFO was his most trusted man. How could he have turned on him?! “Caleb, did you really think burning a body in an incinerator in the middle of the night would make all of this disappear?” Veronica leaned down and whispered in his ear, low enough that only he could hear. “You knew I had cameras installed at the house. Did it ever occur to you to check the waste disposal facility?” Caleb’s entire body seized. The blood drained from his face. “Throw him out.” Veronica straightened up and dusted off her hands. “I don’t want his mess on the company’s carpet.” Caleb was dragged out of the boardroom like a stray dog — hauled into the elevator, then tossed out onto the street in front of the building like a bag of trash. Office workers streamed past him on the sidewalk, stopping to stare and whisper, looking at him the way you’d look at someone begging for change. He lay there on the ground, staring up at the floor-to-ceiling window at the top of the building — the one that belonged to the chairman’s office. It was over. He was screwed.

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