Married for Revenge

Who would've thought a bright, sunny day filled with laughter could turn so dark in just a moment?

Clara stood under the shade of the beach umbrella, watching the kids run around in the sand, their squeals rising over the crashing waves. Her little daughter, Claire, had been all smiles earlier, wearing her pink birthday dress and twirling like the little princess she believed she was. It was her 5th birthday party, everything seemed perfect.

Even though her husband, Ken, hadn't shown up-not that she expected him to anymore-Clara kept her smile on. She didn't want to ruin Claire's day. She'd gotten used to doing it all alone.

Her eyes moved slowly across the beach. That's when she noticed-Claire wasn't there.

She scanned the party again. The laughter, the music, the crashing waves-they all seemed to blur into one low hum. Her chest tightened.

Then came the scream.

A sharp, bone-deep scream that made her heart stop.

The glass of wine slipped from her hand, hitting the sand with a dull thud.

And then she saw it.

Claire. On the ground near the building. Blood.

"No..." Clara stumbled forward, her feet moving before her mind could catch up.

Tears streamed down her face as she ran with all her might-ran to her daughter. The sand around her was soaked with blood. She was barely clinging to life.

Clara wasted no time. She picked her up in her arms and quickly rushed to the car, gently placing her in the back seat.

She flew to the driver's seat, started the car, and sped to the nearest hospital.

How could this have happened? Someone had pushed her daughter from the two-storey building but why? Claire was a sweet, innocent, and joyful bundle of life. Who would want to hurt her?

She occasionally turned to look at her daughter. The car seat was soaked with even more blood. She looked so pale.

"Dear God," Clara cried.

She fished her phone from her purse and quickly dialed her husband's number, but he never picked-not even once. She dialed multiple times, but the result was the same.

She kept her phone, focusing on the drive and then she arrived at the hospital.

Clara burst through the hospital doors, clutching Claire's tiny body to her chest. Her arms ached, but she held on like letting go would mean losing her forever.

"Help! Please, someone help!" she cried, her voice breaking.

A nurse rushed forward with a stretcher. Clara gently laid Claire down, her hands trembling. Blood was everywhere on the seat of the car, on Clara's arms, on Claire's little dress.

"She fell from a building," Clara managed to say as the doctors began working.

"Ma'am, please wait here," one of them told her.

Clara's legs gave way. She sank to the cold floor outside the emergency room, her back pressed against the wall. Her heart thudded so loud she could barely hear anything else. Her hands clutched at the thin fabric of her blouse as if holding it tight would keep her together

Never had she thought such a happy and joyful day would take a sharp turn for the worse. Everything felt surreal and if it weren't for the blood on her body, she'd have thought she was in one of her crazy imaginations.

The doctor came out minutes later, and Clara quickly rushed to him, demanding to know the condition of her daughter.

"I'm afraid she has lost a lot of blood, and her blood type is a very rare one that isn't available in our blood bank right now. I've ordered it already, but it's going to take some time to get here. Your daughter is in very critical condition, and she doesn't have much time. Perhaps your blood type matches hers? Or your husband's?" he inquired.