Love Showed Up, Then Left

The day my husband left the country on a business trip with his assistant, I learned—by sheer accident—that his archenemy was plotting revenge overseas.

Without a second thought, I raced to the airport and stopped him from boarding the plane.

But his assistant went ahead, alone. And over there, she was killed brutally. Not a trace of her remains was ever found.

When my husband received the news, he fell apart. Wracked with guilt, eaten alive by remorse, he spiraled into a relentless, violent mania.

In the past three years, I'd been in and out of hospitals more times than I could count because of him.

And this time, he pushed me so far—I lost our child.

Then I overheard a conversation between him and his secretary.

"Sir, Casey is still alive. Why keep pretending you're sick? Aren't you afraid your wife will find out and leave you?"

"Leave me? What right does she have to be angry?" He laughed coldly. "If she hadn't stopped me from going abroad, Casey would've never been lured away by that bastard. Everything Linda's suffering now—she brought it on herself."

My mind went blank. I stared, eyes wide in disbelief.

In the office, Nick sat smiling gently at a photo in his hand. "Three years, and Casey is still just as lively as before. Looks like Jacob's been good to her. She must be happy now."

Nick's secretary, Bryan Connelly, adjusted his glasses, a faint smile on his face. "If Casey weren't happy, you wouldn't have stayed so calm these three years. Sir, are you really planning to fake this illness for the rest of your life? Madam's miscarriage this time… the damage was severe. The doctor said she may not be able to conceive again. If she ever finds out—"

With a sharp smack, Nick flung the photo aside. His eyes darkened. "Then make sure she never finds out."

Then came a sigh. He sounded almost helpless.

"When I lost Casey back then, I was out of my mind with rage. That's the only reason I lashed out at Linda. The first time she asked for a divorce, I panicked. Lied. Said I had mania. These past three years, watching her worry about me every day… I hated her. But I also hurt for her. Sometimes, I even wondered if I really was losing my mind.

"But now I've figured it out. Casey has found her happiness. It's time I let go, time to go back to what I had with Linda. As for children… someday, we'll have one."

As if struck by a thought, a gentle smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

But for me, it was like falling into an icy abyss. A coldness crept through my body, wrapping around me until I could hardly breathe.

Three years ago, I had overheard that Nick's sworn enemy, Jacob Miller, had hired a hitman to take him out overseas.

As soon as I found out, I contacted Nick and rushed to the airport to stop him.

That business trip was crucial. He'd been torn and hesitant until Casey volunteered to go in his place.

Not long after, we got the news: she had been kidnapped by terrorists, her body dismembered.

Nick was devastated. He fell into despair, even developed manic episodes.

All this time, I thought it was guilt that consumed him.

But now I knew. All his grief, all his rage, all his madness—none of it was for guilt. It was because the woman he loved had ended up with another man.

I stumbled out of the building in a daze, scenes from countless hospital visits flashing through my mind.

When Nick's episodes hit, he lost all reason. There were moments so severe he seemed ready to end it all.

To protect him from hurting himself, I had become his outlet. His target.

There were times I thought I might die at his hands.

Back then, I told myself it was just the illness. That he didn't mean it.

But now I realized—maybe he really did want me dead.

The sound of my phone ringing jolted me back. I answered on reflex.

The moment I lifted the phone to my ear, Nick's gentle voice came through, "Honey, where did you go? Why aren't you in your ward?"