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 Personal Growth

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"From Urgent News Flash, there was a rear-end collision on Highway 257. A drunk truck driver collided with a taxi in front, causing it to flip over. The extent of injuries is not yet known, but witnesses say a pregnant woman about to give birth was inside."

The sounds of sirens, screams, and traffic were deafening.

The noise battered Kimberly Holden's ears, and the air reeked of blood.

Barely conscious, she managed to grab her phone and dialed a number.

Just as the call was about to drop, someone picked up.

A familiar female voice responded, "Kimberly, Declan is in the shower and can't come to the phone. What's the matter? Is it urgent?"

At that moment, Kimberly's heart sank.

It was Valerie Walsh! Of course!

Always Valerie, the beloved adopted sister Declan Walsh had grown up with, the one who made him neglect her, block her number, even on her due date.

With her eyes closed, Kimberly felt a warm stream beneath her, signaling the life inside her fading. Despite her agony, she begged, "Help me... Highway 257... Save my child..." Her words were hard to speak.

The sudden accident had knocked down the barriers on both sides, completely blocking the highway. Cars couldn't go forward or backward, and rescue vehicles were trapped outside.

The process of deploying a helicopter was too complicated. However, Kimberly knew that the Walsh family owned a private chopper. If Declan could send it over right away, there was still a chance for hope.

"I'm sorry, Kimberly. Declan is busy with my birthday preparations today and can't address this," said the voice, sounding naive yet harsh.

Then the line went dead.

Kimberly fell to the ground, the smell of gasoline urging her to escape before an explosion.

But she felt a sudden acceptance of her fate.

In her last moments, she thought about her twenty-five years, half spent loving a man who didn't love her back.

From the spoiled heiress of the Holden family, she had become a disgraced figure, publicly embarrassed.

She had gambled everything of the Holden family's property, yet failed to gain even a shred of Declan's genuine love.

She was exhausted and had lost the will to love him again.

This life taught her about poor judgments, and she promised herself not to make the same errors in another life.

"Mrs. Walsh, are you really going to wear this pink couture dress to the charity auction tonight? Even though Mr. Walsh..." Maggie, the housekeeper, paused, then gently continued, "This short dress seems too casual. Maybe choose something different?"

After her suggestion, she watched anxiously for the woman's reaction in the mirror.

Having worked for the Walsh family for many years, Maggie understood Kimberly's deep love for Declan. To win his approval, Kimberly carefully matched her lifestyle to his preferences.

Kimberly looked at the familiar reflection, her heart racing.

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