His Unwanted Wife, Her Vengeful Heart
To save my father and our family's gallery, I was forced to marry the ruthless Caleb Wiley. He treated me like a commodity, his heart belonging only to another woman, Eva.
When my father needed a life-saving surgery, Caleb made me a cruel offer. To get the money, I had to drink a fatal allergen during a high-stakes poker game.
I drank it and nearly died. I woke up in the hospital to learn the money was never sent. My father was dead.
Caleb had abandoned me to chase after Eva, later trading me to a lecherous judge like a piece of property. My life, my father's life-it was all worth less than his obsession.
But then I found the proof. His mother had orchestrated everything-my family's ruin, my father's murder. My grief turned to ice.
From the shadows, I began to broadcast every one of the Wiley family's crimes to the world.
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Chapter 4
Isabelle Hensley POV:
The world exploded in a kaleidoscope of pain. I hit the ground with a sickening crunch, my body a marionette with severed strings. The impact knocked the wind out of me, a searing agony blossoming in my ribs and head. My vision swam, red and black. I lay there, gasping, every breath a stab wound.
"Isabelle!" Caleb' s voice, sharp with surprise, pierced through the fog. He stood above me, his face etched with a fleeting moment of alarm, his eyes wide. "What the hell did you do?" There was a strange urgency in his tone, a flicker of something almost human. He knelt, his hand hovering, unsure how to help.
A bitter, humorless laugh escaped my lips, tasting of blood and betrayal. Now you care? Now, after you sold me? I just wanted to disappear, to dissolve into the broken pavement.
My body was failing. A new agony bloomed in my side, a wet warmth spreading against my clothes. I tried to move, to speak, but only a ragged gasp escaped.
Sirens wailed in the distance, growing louder. Soon, paramedics swarmed the courtyard, their faces grim. They worked with practiced efficiency, their voices a low murmur as they assessed my injuries.
Then, a high-pitched whimper. "Caleb! My ankle! I think it's broken!"
Eva. She hobbled into view, supported by one of Contreras's guards, a delicate grimace on her face. Her ankle, perhaps slightly twisted, but certainly not broken. A mere scratch compared to the wreckage of my body.
Caleb' s head snapped up. His eyes, moments ago fixed on me with a confused concern, now darted to her, instantly losing their focus on my plight. "Eva! Are you alright? What happened?" He rushed to her side, his arm instinctively going around her.
The paramedics, their brows furrowed, looked between us. "Sir, this woman is in critical condition. She needs immediate transport."
Caleb waved a dismissive hand. "She's always dramatic. Eva, tell them what you need." He turned his full attention to her, cradling her face in his hands.
Eva, ever the actress, feigned a dizzy spell, swaying slightly. "Oh, Caleb, I… I think I'm going to faint. My head… it's pounding." She closed her eyes, collapsing gracefully into his arms.
"She needs care!" Caleb roared at the paramedics, his voice laced with panic. "Get her to the hospital now! The best doctors!"
One of the paramedics, a seasoned woman with kind eyes, stepped forward. "Sir, with all due respect, this young woman has severe internal bleeding. Her life is in danger. Miss Dillon seems stable."
"Are you questioning me?" Caleb's voice dropped, dangerously low. "Eva needs to be prioritized. Do you understand?"
I watched through half-closed eyes as he lifted Eva into his arms, carrying her like a fragile doll. Eva's eyes fluttered open for a split second, meeting mine. There was no pity, no concern. Only a cold, triumphant glint. Then she closed them again, a serene, victimized expression settling on her face.
He walked past me, past my broken body, as if I were invisible, a mere inconvenience. He chose her. Again. Always her. The last thing I saw before darkness claimed me again was the retreating figure of Caleb, cradling Eva, leaving me bleeding on the cold stone.
I woke again, this time in a private hospital suite, a room far too opulent for a mere patient. My body was a tapestry of pain, but the machines hummed a gentler tune. A kind doctor explained the extent of my injuries: multiple fractures, internal hemorrhaging, a collapsed lung. "You were very lucky, Miss Hensley. Another few minutes, and…" He didn't need to finish the sentence.
I lay there, staring at the pristine ceiling, a strange calm settling over me. I had survived. Again.
A hushed conversation drifted from the hallway, snippets of words reaching my ears. "…Caleb Wiley… furious… Judge Contreras… retaliated… utterly destroyed him… for what he did to Isabelle…"
My eyes widened. Caleb had retaliated against Contreras? For me? A bitter laugh threatened to escape. He hadn't cared enough to save my father, or even to ensure I received medical care. This wasn't about me. This was about his property, his reputation. Contreras had dared to touch what Caleb considered his, and Caleb, in his twisted possessiveness, had struck back. It was a cruel, dark justice, entirely self-serving.
Days bled into weeks as I slowly began to heal. Caleb' s presence was a phantom limb, an aching void. He appeared in the news, showering Eva with gifts, publicly doting on her at charity galas. She, of course, was perfectly recovered, her "minor injuries" forgotten.
I looked at my hands, once so alive with music and art. They were still bandaged, stiff and unwieldy. I missed the whisper of charcoal on paper, the vibrant hum of cello strings. My old life felt like a distant dream, one I feared I might never reclaim.
But a new resolve burned within me. This pain, this humiliation, this unending cycle of betrayal… it had to end. I would heal. I would disappear. And then, I would make them all pay. The thought was a quiet promise whispered to my bruised soul.