He stepped on my left arm, lifting the baseball bat high…
“Stanley, no… Ah!” I screamed as the bat came crashing down, the searing pain of my bones breaking making my vision go black.
Stanley raised the bat again for another strike…
The agony from both my abdomen and my wrist was unbearable. I passed out.
When I woke up, I was in a hospital bed.
Grace, who was by my side, rushed over as soon as she saw I was awake. “Miss, if you’re feeling any discomfort, I’ll call the doctor.”
“Don’t leave,” I rasped, licking my dry lips. “My baby…?”
Grace’s eyes reddened. “The baby is gone.”
The worst had happened. I took a deep breath, but the tears still flowed, spilling down like broken pearls. I stared up at the ceiling. “How many months
was I?”
The doctor said just two months,” she replied softly.
Thinking back on everything, I tried moving my left hand.
A sharp, intense pain shot through it, making me bite my lip.
Good, as long as it hurts. This way, I can ignore the ache in my heart.
That evening, the driver brought me back to the mansion. Stanley was in the bedroom.
“Stanley, I hope you’re satisfied now. You’ve killed your own child with your own hands.”
He grabbed my chin and pronounced each word with icy precision. “It was just a bastard. If it’s gone, it’s gone. It’s his own fault for being conceived in
your womb. You’re simply not worthy of bearing my child.”
I stared at him, disbelief washing over me. How could he be so cold–blooded? That was his child too.
“Oh, and by the way,” he added, “you had massive internal bleeding. I instructed the doctors to remove your uterus to save your life. You’ll never have children again.”
I broke down completely. I would never have children again.
And I’m only twenty–five.
I wanted to hit him, but he effortlessly grasped my wrist. His other hand clamped down on my left wrist, and with a click, I let out another cry of pain.
It was already deep winter. The morning sun filtered through the window, warming me gently. I lay in a rocking chair, a small blanket draped over me. Ever
since Beth’s lookalike had taken my place, Stanley seldom returned. I hadn’t seen him in over a week.
-Perhaps my illness was worsening. I had difficulty eating now; sometimes, I could only manage two bites before my stomach would start to ache
unbearably.
Day by day, I couldn’t eat or sleep due to the constant pain. My condition continued to deteriorate.
I hadn’t looked in the mirror in a long time, too afraid to see the skeletal figure I had become.
At dinner, Grace had prepared several dishes. “Ma’am, I made some nourishing food. You’ve been losing weight lately; you need to eat more to regain your strength. It’s not good for a girl to be too thin.”
I nodded but couldn’t muster any appetite at all. To prevent Grace from noticing, I forced myself to drink half a bowl of soup and take a few bites.
Soon after, my stomach began to ache faintly. I hurried back to my room and took a painkiller.
He thought 1 killed my half sis so he married me as revenge As I was tortured to death, my sister came back.
The pain in my stomach felt like millions of needles piercing me at once–completely unbearable.
After a while, I felt my stomach churn, and I rushed to the bathroom. I vomited the food I had eaten earlier, along with a mouthful of blood.
Perhaps because the painkillers had finally kicked in, the pain eased somewhat.
Exhausted, I collapsed onto my bed, panting heavily. I felt as though if I closed my eyes, I might sleep forever.
In the middle of the night, Stanley unexpectedly returned.
He lifted the blanket, intending to get physical. I resisted weakly, but it was pointless. In the end, I just passively accepted it.
His hand froze when it brushed against my ribs.
“Why have you lost so much weight?” he asked in a low voice.
My heart trembled for a brief moment, but the little flicker of hope that had risen was immediately extinguished by his next words.
“Make sure you eat more every day. Don’t die so quickly. As you said, I’m interested in your body. But with you so skinny and bony, it’s affecting how you feel, and I’m not satisfied.”
I gasped, feeling a dull pain in my chest. But upon reflection, maybe it was a blessing in disguise–it might keep him from tormenting me further.
Lying in bed, I watched his back. We were so close, yet it felt as though I could never even touch the hem of his shirt.
“There’s a banquet tomorrow. You’ll accompany me.”
His voice rang out suddenly.
I had never been invited to accompany him to any formal occasion before. Without thinking, I asked, “Isn’t that girl from before going with you?” “You’re not in a position to question me,” he replied coldly.
The next afternoon, Stanley arranged for a stylist to come to the house.
Just like before, I covered my pale complexion with thick makeup. Only this time, I looked even thinner and more unrecognizable than ever.
I hadn’t bothered to choose a formal dress this time; I simply threw on a casual top and left.
When I arrived at the hotel suite Stanley had mentioned, I quickly realized this was no ordinary dinner.
Inside were four overweight, middle–aged executives. Stanley sat at the head of the table, with Beth’s replacement sitting next to him. She glared at me, inching closer to him.
“Who’s this, Mr. Williams?” one of the executives, Vincent Hunt asked, his gaze lecherously sweeping over me.
I glanced at Stanley. “Since you’re not alone, I shouldn’t intrude.”
“Stop!” Stanley’s voice cut through the room.
I had barely taken a step when he called me back.
“You’re not here to accompany me. You’ll keep our esteemed guests company.”
His words struck me like a slap. Anger surged through me, but what hurt even more was the humiliation. Stanley wanted me to act as nothing more than a drinking companion.
Of course, he hated me. I should have known he’d find ways to humiliate me.
I looked at the glasses of wine lined up before me. Would Stanley let me go if I refused to drink? Or, if I drank, would I die sooner?
Without hesitating, I tilted my head back and downed the first glass in one gulp.
The icy liquid burned down my throat, settling in my stomach like lead. Less than a minute later, sharp pain radiated from my abdomen.
Between their conversation, I continued taking shot after shot. The pain in my stomach became unbearable, and everything around me started to blur. My back was soaked with sweat.
“Ayy, this little beauty not only drinks well but is also easy on the eyes,” Vincent remarked. Taking advantage of my dizziness, he pulled me into his arms and turned to Stanley.
་
“Mr. Williams, where did you find such a gem? You know I have a thing for this type. She’s just a bit too skinny. I’ve reserved a private room upstairs. Let me take her there first.”
He tugged at me, trying to drag me away.
My stomach ached, but my mind was still sharp. His intentions were clear: Stanley didn’t just want me to accompany them for drinks–he wanted entertain them for the night.
I struggled against his grip.
Instead of letting go, Vincent tightened his hold, his hand roaming across my body.
Desperate, I screamed, “Stanley, do you enjoy wearing a cuckold’s crown this much? I am your legal wife, yet you offer me up to another man like some sort of prize?”
He thought I killed my half–sis so he married me as revenge. As I was tortured to death, my sister came back
པ་པ་པ་བ་ད
sort of prize?”
My voice echoed through the room, and silence fell. Everyone waited for Stanley’s reaction.
hastily let go of me and stepped back several paces. “Mr. Williams, is this really your wife?” he asked, looking between Stanley and me in disbelief.
I didn’t care what Stanley was thinking. Without saying a word, I picked up my bag and turned to leave.
Just as I reached the door, I heard the shattering sound of a cup being hurled against it. The impact reverberated through the room, but I didn’t stop or
turn back.
Forcing myself to walk out of the hotel, I made it to the roadside, only to collapse and vomit helplessly.
I stared at the blood mixed with alcohol on the pavement, a bitter chuckle escaping my lips.
As I tried to stand, my throat tightened, and I coughed up yet another mouthful of blood.
A mother and her young daughter, who happened to be passing by, stopped in their tracks, startled. The little girl tugged at her mother’s hand and pointed
at me. “Mommy, look! Isn’t that woman like the ones on TV, vomiting blood because she’s seriously hurt?”
Her mother quickly shushed her. “Don’t say such things!” She then approached me cautiously. “Miss, should I call an ambulance for you?”
I weakly waved my hand, my voice barely a whisper. “No need. Thanks.”
I forced myself to walk a little further, each step sending sharp waves of pain through my stomach and body. Every inch of me ached, my insides felt like they were on fire.
Just when I thought I couldn’t take another step, a large hand suddenly grabbed hold of my arm, stopping me in my tracks.
