Freezed

While I Was Bleeding Out, He Lit Lanterns For Her

Katie Oettgen

As I lay on the floor of our manor, bleeding out from a ruptured ectopic pregnancy, I used my last ounce of strength to call my husband, Cole. I begged him for help, my vision blurring. But the only thing I heard was the clinking of champagne glasses and his mistress's giggle in the background. "Stop the drama, June," Cole snapped, his voice cold. "We're about to go on stage. Don't call again." He hung up, leaving me to die alone on the Persian rug while he accepted an award with another woman on his arm. I woke up in the hospital days later. My baby was gone. They had removed my fallopian tube. Cole finally arrived, smelling of expensive scotch and his mistress's perfume. He didn't hug me. He didn't cry. Instead, he leaned over my hospital bed, pressing his knee into the mattress until my fresh stitches tore open and bled. "You embarrassed me by calling an ambulance," he hissed. "My mistress, Alycia, says you're faking it. Clean yourself up." He left me bleeding again to go announce a $10 million donation to Alycia's "groundbreaking" medical research. I stared at the TV screen, numb. The research Alycia was taking credit for? It was mine. I wrote that patent years ago under a pseudonym. They thought I was just a poor, orphan housewife who needed Cole's money to survive. They had no idea I was actually a billionaire scientist hiding my identity. I pulled the IV needle out of my arm. A drop of blood fell onto the divorce papers I had been hiding. I didn't wipe it off. I signed my name right over it. Then I walked into the bank, reactivated my dormant account with $128 million, and bought the penthouse directly overlooking Cole's house. The mourning widow is dead. The avenger is born.

Romance Crime Revenge Pregnancy Enemies to Lovers Pregnancy Personal Growth

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Maggie Johnson took pains to steer her wheelchair to the bedroom door with a gift in her hand. It was a mug she made by herself. In her mind, a DIY gift was the best, and the mug represented her sincerity.

It was Kevin Brown's birthday today, and she prepared a surprise for him.

He worked so hard every day and should still be asleep now. She wanted to see him in sleep. It had been half a month since she saw him last time.

When she reached the bedroom door, a woman's voice suddenly came out, "Kevin, are you really going to marry Maggie? She only has one leg left..."

Stunned, Maggie saw through a crevice that her fiancé, Kevin, and her stepsister, Tami Johnson cuddling each other on the bed...

"Yes, of course. Only through marriage would she give me the ring passed down from her mother." Sneered Kevin.

"Well, could you divorce her after getting what you want?" Tami looked up at him expectantly.

Kevin sneered, "Rather than a divorced wife, I only have a dead wife."

Tami giggled, "You are bad."

"Don't you like it?" He asked in a hoarse voice.

"No..." There was another round of passion.

Crack.

The mug slipped from Maggie's hand and smashed on the floor. In a fluster, she steered the wheelchair, but it was stuck and wouldn't move.

"Who's there?" In the room, Kevin asked suddenly, jumped off the bed, wrapped a towel around his lower body, ran out, and stiffened at the sight of Maggie.

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