Chapter 3

Half an hour crawled by. The phone remained completely silent.

Blake scowled, tapping the voice note button.

"You testing my fucking patience? You've got thirty minutes. If the money isn't here, your husband is a dead man!"

I stared fixedly at the dark screen, my chest tightening.

Ten years of devotion. Would she really sit back and watch me die?

Minutes ticked away into agonizing silence. The room grew colder, and Blake's temper flared hotter.

Suddenly, one of his lackeys stared at his own phone and gasped,

"Boss! She didn't reply to the text, but she just posted a photo dump on Ins with the pretty boy!"

"Holy shit! She's wearing a bikini!"

My face went completely numb. The floor dropped out from beneath me.

Why?

I shut my eyes tight, but tears leaked uncontrollably through the bruised lids.

No matter how desperately I tried to make excuses, the bloody reality was shoved down my throat.

Cynthia didn't care whether I lived or died.

"Fuck this! Does she think I'm running a charity?!"

"I get it now. Neither of those sick bastards gives a damn about this kid's life!"

His minion whispered hesitantly, "So... we end him, boss?"

This time, Blake glared down at me, a sadistic grin curling his lips. "Kill him!"

"But let me blow off some steam first!"

My eyes went completely blank and hollow, waiting for the end.

He dragged a chair over, gripping a metal baseball bat. "Kid, don't blame me. Blame that cold-hearted wife of yours!"

He ordered his men to drag me upright, then struck me across the face with the heavy bat.

Darkness claimed me, only for a bucket of freezing water to wrench me back to consciousness.

Before I could even gasp, a swarm of men closed in, beating and kicking every inch of my body.

Slurs and insults washed over me: "Loser." "Pathetic bastard." "Worthless dog."

The pain dulled into numbness. Then my hearing faded, followed by my sense of smell.

The world spun violently, like being swallowed by a black tidal wave.

My vision blurred until the light completely vanished.

I was back in that pitch-black room. Lost in an endless void.

Only this time, the thing locked in the dark was my soul.

I felt myself slipping away. But I hadn't divorced Cynthia yet.

I didn't want to die with the title of her husband tied around my neck.

Two days later. The ICU.

"The patient has multiple severe contusions, his left eye is permanently blinded from infection, broken nasal bridge, compound fractures in both arms, and both legs are completely shattered. Worse still..."

Cynthia stared frantically at the hesitant doctor, her voice shaking.

"Worse still what?! Doctor, please, tell me!"

The doctor sighed heavily. "Given the trauma, the psychological damage is extreme. His mental state is heavily compromised. He may exhibit severe psychosis, self-harm, or suicidal tendencies."

"You need to be prepared."

Through the muffled voices, my eyes cracked open.

Seeing this, Julian immediately rushed forward, grasping my limp hand. His face was twisted with guilt, but his fingers squeezed down hard on my broken bones.

"Ethan! You're finally awake! It's all my fault. If it weren't for me, you wouldn't have gone through this!"

"If I knew they'd hurt you like this, I would've let them beat me to death rather than let you take my place!"

I stared at him with hollow, glassy eyes.

Who was this? What was he saying? Why did the sound of his voice make me want to vomit? And why did my hand hurt so much?

My gaze drifted. Suddenly, Cynthia threw herself onto my chest, weeping hysterically.

Tears streamed down her flushed face.

"It's my fault... I was too late, I let them hurt you!"

"I swear, nothing like this will ever happen again!"

What was she babbling about? Did I know her?

I wanted to push her off. Her weight was crushing my broken ribs.

Then, she pressed her lips against mine, her salty tears dripping between our mouths, forcing a fragile smile.

"I'll take you on our honeymoon, okay? Anywhere you want to go, anything you want to do."

Her voice was cracked with sobs, her eyes searching mine desperately.

Inside my skull, everything was pure chaos.

Honeymoon?

The moment that word echoed in my mind, my frozen brain suddenly ignited.

Seeing a reaction on my face, joy lit up her eyes. "Babe, I knew you'd say yes. The nightmare is over. Let's just go back to the way things were, okay?"

Babe? Husband?!

My mind violently exploded with agony. Tortured memories came flooding back like a tidal wave.

Residual phantom pain ripped through every broken nerve in my body.

The white hospital room dissolved into shadows. Shadows of men beating me, kicking me, laughing as they spat on my face.

Panicking, I clamped my hands over my head, curling my broken body into a tight ball, screaming in terror:

"Don't hit me! Please don't hit me!"

"I'm sorry! I know I was wrong! I'm a loser, I'm garbage, I'm worthless! Don't beat me! I'm going to die!"

"No! I can't die! I haven't gotten divorced yet! I can't die!"