The Ugly Wife Went Viral

The sharp smell of disinfectant filled my nose, and I opened my eyes.

My leg was encased in plaster and suspended in the air. Even the slightest movement sent a piercing pain shooting through me.

The hospital room was empty.

When the nurse came in to change my dressing, she mentioned in passing that Adrian was downstairs with Vivian while she underwent a full round of examinations.

I stared at the harsh ceiling light until my eyes felt dry and sore.

After what felt like forever, the door to the room was pushed open.

It was Vivian.

A few rough-looking men trailed in behind her.

"Serena, you're harder to kill than I thought." Vivian walked up to the bed, folding her arms as she looked me over.

"Get out," I said, not even bothering to look at her.

"Still talking tough, I see." She let out a soft scoff and tilted her head toward the men behind her. "Teach Mrs. Blackwood some manners."

One of the men stepped forward at once and raised his hand to slap me across the face.

I jerked my head aside, and his hand came down hard against the pillow instead.

"Oh? You've still got the nerve to dodge?" the man sneered as he reached for my hair.

Another man, his arms covered in tattoos, stepped up and grabbed at the collar of my hospital gown.

"Ugly face, decent body. Whatever, we'll make an exception today."

I struggled with everything I had, but the cast on my leg left me nowhere to retreat.

Vivian stood off to the side with her arms crossed, calmly enjoying my humiliation.

In my desperation, my hand fumbled blindly across the bedside table until it found something cold and solid.

It was a glass vase.

With every bit of strength I had left, I grabbed the vase and brought it down hard on the head of the man who was tearing at my clothes.

The man screamed, clutched his head, and collapsed, blood streaming through his fingers.

At that exact moment, the hospital room door was shoved open.

Adrian stood in the doorway, his gaze sweeping across the chaos in the room, the thug on the floor howling with his hands over his head, before finally settling on the disheveled front of my gown.

"Adrian!" Vivian reacted instantly. Her eyes reddened as she threw herself into his arms. "I just came to check on Serena out of kindness, but the second she saw me, she completely lost it and started attacking people. It was like she'd rehearsed the whole thing..."

Adrian's eyes passed over the bleeding man on the floor before returning to me.

"Serena, how did you become like this?" His voice was slow, heavy with exhaustion. "I only went with Miss Mercer to have a few scrapes treated, and you hired these men to stage this whole act?"

He actually thought I was putting on an act?

My eyes reddened in shock.

A man as sharp and intelligent as he was could have seen the truth with the slightest thought. But when it came to Vivian, he didn't question a thing. Whatever she said, he believed.

Even though I had already seen through his hypocrisy, even though I had accepted that his heart belonged to someone else, the nakedness of that favoritism still left me aching with hurt and humiliation.

When I didn't speak, Adrian's voice dropped lower. "Serena, are you resenting me because of the accident? It was chaos back then. I just got the wrong person."

The wrong person?

And even the name… was that wrong too?

A laugh escaped me, even as tears spilled uncontrollably down my face.

"Adrian, were you blind when you chose who to save, and are you still blind now? Did you not see what they were trying to do to me?"

"Enough." He frowned, disappointment heavy in his voice. "There's evidence and witnesses. You've gone too far this time. I can't keep covering for you. Intentional assault isn't something I can overlook. Spend a few days inside and calm down."

He turned to his assistant and told him to call the police. He never looked at me again before walking away.

Vivian glanced back at me, her gaze full of provocation, as if to say I had it coming.

The police arrived quickly.

Charged with assault, I was taken away on the spot and locked in detention.

Three days. Seventy-two hours.

The room was dark and damp, thick with the stench of sweat and urine.

The other women in the cell took one look at my hospital gown and lit up with excitement.

They grabbed my hair and shoved my face into the reeking toilet, laughing as they mocked my appearance.

"Heard your own man was the one who sent you in here?"

"Looking like that? Not surprising."

Blows rained down on me. New wounds layered over old ones. The cast on my leg cracked, and the injury beneath grew inflamed and infected.

A fever burned through me, my body scorching hot, yet I didn't shed a single tear or beg for mercy.

Between each beating, I kept replaying those three years of marriage to Adrian, over and over again.

He had once taken drinks meant for me at banquets, clumsily cooked porridge for me late at night, whispered that I was the best in his eyes...

Now, every memory had turned into the cruelest kind of mockery.

My love for him, along with my dignity, was ground into dust over those three days—crushed beyond recognition.

The day I walked out of detention, the sunlight was blinding.

I saw Adrian's car parked not far away.

I didn't go to him.

Instead, I took out my phone and called him.

"Adrian," I heard my own voice, hoarse and strained, "let's get divorced."

There was a brief silence on the other end before his voice came through, edged with anger. "Serena, are you done causing trouble?"

"I'm not causing trouble." I said calmly, "I'll have my lawyer send you the divorce papers."

Then I hung up.

I didn't know when Adrian planned to come clean, but I was done playing along.

If he refused to sign, I would take it to court.

But after hearing me out, the lawyer hesitated. "Mrs. Blackwood, you know better than I do how much influence Mr. Blackwood has in Kingsport. Taking him to court... there's no chance of winning."

I stood there, stunned.

So in this game, I didn't even have the right to say it was over.

I stood at the crossroads, watching traffic stream past, and felt utterly trapped.

In the end, I pulled up a number I had thought I would never call again.

The call connected quickly, and an aged yet authoritative voice came through. "Serena?"

"Dad..." I closed my eyes, and at last, the tears fell. "I was wrong. I want to come home."

"Alright." There wasn't a trace of hesitation in his voice. "Wait for me. Three days. I'll come and bring you home."