His Perfect Wife Strikes Back

165 Presidential Candidates

In the hospital ward, I lay on the bed. The medical monitor made a dripping sound in my ear. To pass the time, I reached into my nightstand, picked up the remote control, and turned on the TV hanging on the wall.

"Hey, are you feeling better?" Frade pushed the door open.

"Can you tell the doctor to turn off the damn device?" I hate to hear such a short and continuous dripping sound, which makes me mistakenly think that I am seriously ill.

"It's a baby heartbeat monitor." Frade, who is sitting next to me, glances at the flashing red light. "I don't like the sound of it either, but it can monitor the baby's heartbeat at any time. You have to listen to the doctor."

"Is there something wrong with the baby?" I asked hastily.

"It's fine." Frade put his hand on my belly. "The doctor said that it's normal to have occasional abdominal pain in the early stages of pregnancy."

I breathed a sigh of relief.

"The doctor said you need to rest and keep a relaxed mood." Frade said, holding my hand, "The most important thing right now is for the baby to be born safely. You don't have to worry about anything else. You know what I mean."

"Alright, I promise."

"I'll be at the hospital with you tonight," Frade said. "Mark and Liv were planning a party for you tonight, so I thought I'd tell them to cancel."

"Don't tell Liv I'm at the hospital or she'll be worried about me," I told him.

"OK," he said, walking to the balcony to make a phone call.

My eyes drifted to the television in front of me. The city news was broadcasting about the next presidential election. When a picture of a man appeared on the television, I quickly took the remote control and turned up the volume.

"Mickle Blanton has officially announced his candidacy for the next presidential election, and it's clear that this military man who served in the Afghanistan War has the support of the public at large," the hoster announced in a professional voice, then came images of Blanton and his family interacting with voters.

Mickle Blanton, wearing a plain t-shirt, shook hands kindly with voters, while his wife and daughter stood behind him, always smiling gracefully.

My eyes were glued to the television, and Mickle looked younger than he really was, even though he was reaching retirement age. He is soft-spoken with voters, answering questions from reporters and even making jokes.

When he delivered his speech from the podium, he was so infectious that most people were enthusiastic and supportive after hearing his speech.

He has the gumption of a soldier and the tact of a politician. He is a born orator and one of the hottest candidates for the next president.

He presented himself to the public as a decent Messiah. Any stain on a popular man like him by the media could cause his perfect image to collapse in an instant.

That's why he had Daley secretly hunted down because he was threatened by Daley with my mother's recording tape. The tape could have been his weakness.

It is very likely that he knows my existence, or that Daley has already revealed my identity in the process of negotiating with him.

But where's the tape? Daley left without telling me. Will Mickle think the tape is on me, so...

So the presence of the police was no accident. I know Mickle must have contacted Mikeal urgently. My biological father and adoptive father made a decision during the interview.

Kill me!

There was no doubt that my death was a sure thing for Mikeal, who thought he had a deadly weapon against me, so he took the opportunity to make more demands of Mickle.

I get it. It's all a trap. My biological father and my adoptive father wanted me dead.

"Eva, what are you thinking about?" Frade returned to his room from the balcony. He followed my gaze at the news on the television.

"Don't tell me you're interested in running for president."

"No." I sneered at Mickle on the television. "I'm just interested in him. He's my real father."

"Mickle Blanton?" Frade asked, surprised. "Is he your real father?"

"Yes!" I said. "He's not only my biological father, he's Mia's biological father. It was him who killed my mother."

Now I have another name on my death list: Mickle Blanton.

Frade locked the door and said to me, "Now you can tell me what the hell is going on."

I sighed heavily and told him the whole story and the tape my mother had left behind.

"It sounds like an incredible story," Frade said as he stood up and paced the room.

"It's not a story," I corrected him. "It's the truth."

"That's why your biological father and your adoptive father are working together to kill you." Frade's brows furrowed as he folded his hands in front of his chest. "I can't believe this is the truth."

"For Mickle Blanton and Mikeal Green, my existence is superfluous." I smiled wryly, "If the press finds out that Mickle Blanton has an illegitimate child, it will be a stain on his political career that will never be erased. And that tape my mother left behind. It was a bomb for Mickle."

"So he was afraid that if the tape was released," Frade said, "He would ruin his political career and go to jail."

"So he's not going to give up on me," I said. "If we do have this tape, maybe we can use it to negotiate with Mickle. Unfortunately, Daley took it."

"That bastard," Frade scolded.

"I won't let them," Frade said. "For your safety, I think we have to get out of here."

"Where do you think it's safe to go?" I said. "Frade, don't be silly. Mickle has a strong military background. He'll find us wherever we go."

"Maybe we can go to Italy. My family has many military allies in Italy and we can seek protection from the local government."

"No. Frade," I interrupted, "I'm tired of hiding like a rat."

"Eva!" Frade said strongly. "For the sake of our baby, you must leave this place. Stop arguing about this matter, okay?"

"Do you really think we're going to get away with this? Maybe Mickle has people watching us already," I said. "Actually, I've got a plan for Mickle."

"What do you have in mind?" Frade looks at me in confusion.