Swapped Fate Curse
Chapter 1
On our wedding day, my childhood sweetheart and fiancé ended his life by jumping off a building.
Before he died, he left behind a mysterious note, and anyone who read it suffered the same tragic fate.
First, it was his grandmother, then his father followed, leaping from the rooftop of an eighteen-story building.
Each day, I was consumed by grief and despair.
I pleaded with Esther, my mother-in-law, to tell me what the note said.
Yet, she remained silent.
Even when others offered vast sums out of sheer curiosity, she kept her lips sealed.
Until the day I remarried, she whispered those fateful words to my new husband...
---
My husband disappeared on the very day we were supposed to get married.
That morning, I was in the bridal suite making the final preparations when my phone rang unexpectedly.
It was one of Atlas's students, their voice trembling so much it was hard to understand.
"Paige, you need to come to the art studio... Mr. Riley... he... he..."
By the time I arrived at the art college with my in-laws, the campus was in chaos.
Students stood in small clusters outside the studio, whispering among themselves.
Someone recognized me, their eyes showing a mix of horror and pity.
I dashed out of the car, still in my white wedding gown, with Esther close behind, her face as pale as a ghost.
A police line blocked the studio entrance; I broke free from the officers' attempts to hold me back and rushed inside.
In that moment, the world seemed to come to a standstill.
Atlas lay there, surrounded by a pool of his own blood. His right wrist was mangled, yet his left hand clutched a paintbrush tightly.
Blood splatters covered the floor, walls, and canvases all around.
On the largest canvas before him, in his own blood, it read: "Paige, I love you."
My legs gave way, and I collapsed to the ground.
My wedding dress soaked up the red, blossoming like a flower in a sea of blood.
"No, no, this can't be..."
Just last night, he had called me, his voice brimming with excitement about the ceremony.
"Paige, you know what? I'm so nervous I can't sleep, just thinking about how we'll finally be a family tomorrow."
His voice was filled with anticipation and happiness, and now, he was just... gone.
The police were busy examining the scene, while the coroner knelt beside Atlas, inspecting him.
I overheard snippets of their conversation: "Signs point to suicide," "No signs of struggle," "Estimated time of death approximately 3 AM."
Esther sat silently on a bench outside the studio, her hands covering her face, weeping without a sound.
Wilson, my father-in-law, stood beside her, his eyes vacant, as though he had aged a decade overnight.
After hours of investigation, the police initially concluded it was a suicide, finding no evidence of foul play.
The lead officer suggested we head home to look through Atlas's belongings, hoping to find some clues.
Once back at home, we searched every nook and cranny, desperate for answers.
Atlas's grandmother, Salem, found a letter beneath his pillow, the word "Will" scrawled across the envelope.
Her hands trembled as she opened it, her eyes scanning the page.
Her sorrow-stricken face suddenly froze, transforming into sheer terror.
Her lips quivered, her face turning even paler.
"Mom, what is it?" Wilson asked urgently, reaching for the letter.
We all crowded around, desperate to know what Atlas had written.
But Salem abruptly folded the letter, clutching it tightly.
Tears streamed down her cheeks as she turned to Wilson.
"My son, I can't bear this," she cried.
The next moment, an unimaginable scene unfolded.
Salem suddenly bolted towards the balcony, and before any of us could react, she climbed over the railing and jumped.
From twelve stories up, there was no hope of survival.
Screams erupted from below as I rushed to the balcony.
I saw Salem's broken body on the pavement, her blood spreading around her.
Wilson let out a heart-wrenching howl, moving mechanically towards the balcony, only to be held back by Esther and me.
"Why, why..." Wilson murmured, terror and confusion etched into his eyes.
In his hands, he clutched the letter that had fallen from Salem's grip, yet he dared not open it.
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