While I Was Bleeding Out, He Lit Lanterns For Her

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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The night before their third wedding anniversary, Cary Gibson emerged victorious from a high-end auction, securing a pair of rare sapphire earrings.

He said softly, "This is for the person I owe the most—my beloved."

From home, his wife, Evelina Marsh, felt tears pooling as she watched the auction on television. Tomorrow was their third anniversary, and maybe, at long last, Cary had realized her devotion.

Cary's grandmother, Demi Gibson, exhaled in quiet satisfaction. "At long last, Cary's learned how valuable his wife truly is."

The next evening, Evelina had barely set the finishing touches on an extravagant dinner when Cary stepped through the door.

She hurried to greet him, swiftly taking his briefcase before reaching out for his coat.

"Quite a feast tonight," he said lightly. "Did something happen?"

Tall and captivating, Cary carried himself effortlessly. Even the simple act of loosening his tie appeared like a polished gesture from a high-fashion shoot.

Yet, somehow, he always managed to chill Evelina with just a few words. Her fingers paused uncertainly, and she quietly said, "You didn't forget, did you?"

No, that couldn't be right. He had purchased those priceless sapphire earrings to make amends, hadn't he?

Cary's eyebrows knitted together slightly. "Forget what exactly, Evelina?"

"The sapphire earrings... you bought them, didn't you?" Her heart trembled with unease, but hope stubbornly remained.

"How do you know about those earrings?" Cary appeared genuinely startled. He clearly didn't expect his mild-mannered, invisible wife to keep tabs on such extravagant things.

A faint smirk tugged at his lips, hinting at contempt.

Certainly, Evelina possessed natural beauty—gentle features, eyes soft and expressive—but she refused to flaunt it. She dressed plainly, appearing perpetually dull and overlooked, like a flower that had ceased to bloom.

Even the Gibson household maid seemed more refined than Evelina.

Yet, Evelina gathered her courage, eyes shining cautiously. "I saw the auction broadcast. Those earrings are really lovely—"

Cary interjected her abruptly, "They're for Esme."

At the mere mention of his first love, Esme Barton, Cary's voice softened noticeably. "She's finally agreed to return to me. Naturally, I needed something special to welcome her back."

Evelina felt her chest tighten painfully, her breath hitching.

So, the one he felt indebted to was Esme Barton, the very woman who had abandoned him?

And what did that make her—the devoted wife who had stood beside him for three years without complaint, never even asking for recognition?

Unable to bear it, Evelina's voice wavered with hurt. "Cary, have you forgotten whose fault the accident was—the one that blinded you?"

On that terrible day, Esme had thrown a tantrum over something insignificant, distracting Cary and causing him to crash.

When news broke that Cary's sight was likely permanently lost, Esme swiftly disappeared, crafting a flimsy excuse before fleeing overseas the same day. She left no trace, vanishing completely.

Their wedding had already been announced, invitations sent. Neither Esme nor her family could be located.

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