The heavy iron gate groaned open, releasing me after seven long years. Dr. Evelyn Reed. Once a brilliant surgeon, now just an ex-con. My husband, David, and our son, Ethan, were there, a beacon of hope in the sharp sunlight. "Evelyn, you' re finally out. Welcome home," David whispered, holding me tight. I thought their love was my lifeline, the one thing that kept me alive. But in a dusty closet, an old voice recorder shattered that illusion. "Dad, didn' t you set her up? Why didn' t you let her stay in jail longer? Seeing her makes Aunt Sarah unhappy." Ethan' s voice, then David' s, stern and unfamiliar. "She deserves everything she got!" My blood ran cold. The evidence against me-medical malpractice, illegal human trials, organ trafficking-it had all been fabricated. David, my own husband, had actively participated. My son, Ethan, had testified against me. My adopted grandfather, dead. My biological parents, publicly disowning me for Sarah, the girl they raised in my place. My career, ruined. My life, a stepping stone for her. The house, once a sanctuary, was a shrine to Sarah, filled with portraits of her painted by David and Ethan – a love and adoration they never showed me. All their affections, all their promises, were a monstrous lie. Overwhelmed, I stumbled upon a forgotten phone number-a promise made in the depths of my despair. My hands shook as I dialed, a quiet whisper sealing my fate. "The time has come to fulfill that promise."
The heavy iron gate groaned open, releasing me after seven long years.
Dr. Evelyn Reed. Once a brilliant surgeon, now just an ex-con.
My husband, David, and our son, Ethan, were there, a beacon of hope in the sharp sunlight.
"Evelyn, you' re finally out. Welcome home," David whispered, holding me tight.
I thought their love was my lifeline, the one thing that kept me alive.
But in a dusty closet, an old voice recorder shattered that illusion.
"Dad, didn' t you set her up? Why didn' t you let her stay in jail longer? Seeing her makes Aunt Sarah unhappy." Ethan' s voice, then David' s, stern and unfamiliar. "She deserves everything she got!"
My blood ran cold. The evidence against me-medical malpractice, illegal human trials, organ trafficking-it had all been fabricated.
David, my own husband, had actively participated. My son, Ethan, had testified against me.
My adopted grandfather, dead. My biological parents, publicly disowning me for Sarah, the girl they raised in my place. My career, ruined. My life, a stepping stone for her.
The house, once a sanctuary, was a shrine to Sarah, filled with portraits of her painted by David and Ethan – a love and adoration they never showed me.
All their affections, all their promises, were a monstrous lie.
Overwhelmed, I stumbled upon a forgotten phone number-a promise made in the depths of my despair.
My hands shook as I dialed, a quiet whisper sealing my fate. "The time has come to fulfill that promise."
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