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You Called Me A Cripple: He Called Me His Wife Novel Cover

You Called Me A Cripple: He Called Me His Wife

For four years of marriage, my husband, Julian Crawford, had avoided me, repulsed by my crippled legs, never once willing to touch me. And yet, in cruel contrast, my body betrayed me, my desires spiraling out of control. During a gynecological exam, under the hands of a stranger—a male doctor—I lost control, soft, broken sounds slipping from my lips. Outside the consultation room, my husband stood beside the woman he had never forgotten, Vanessa Whitmore, holding her in plain sight as he called me a "useless burden." The doctor adjusted my skirt for me, his fingertips brushing slowly along the side of my thigh. Then, in a low voice, he asked, "Do you want me to help you?"
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Chapter 5

The moment I finished speaking, Vanessa's expression changed abruptly. She lunged at me like she'd lost control.

"Evelyn, you can't!"

There was clear panic in her voice as she reached out to snatch the phone from my hand.

I hadn't expected her to get physical. I couldn't dodge in time.

Her hand slammed into the armrest of my wheelchair, jolting my whole body.

The phone slipped from my grip.

In that split second as it fell, I quickly hit play.

The phone hit the floor hard. The video was already playing.

A soft, breathy voice spilled out from the phone.

"Julian… slower…"

The sound was jarringly loud in the hospital lobby.

Even those who had been watching from a distance leaned in, looking down.

The image on the screen was unmistakably clear.

In the video, Vanessa was straddling Julian, her body pressed against his.

His head tilted back, his hand gripping her waist, his expression lost in the moment.

The intimacy left no room for misunderstanding.

The crowd fell silent for a beat.

The next second, gasps erupted.

"Isn't that the same couple from earlier?"

"Holy hell, this guy really cheated!"

The crowd exploded into chatter.

"Didn't he just say she was making it up?"

"The video's right there!"

More people gathered, some already raising their phones to record.

Someone couldn't help but shout, "Wasn't he so tough when he slapped his wife just now?"

Someone suddenly frowned, staring at Julian.

"Wait… why does he look familiar?"

The person beside him immediately chimed in, "Damn, isn't that Julian Crawford from the Crawford Group?"

The chatter grew even louder.

Disdainful looks fell squarely on Julian and Vanessa.

I sat in my wheelchair, watching it all unfold.

The pain in my face hadn't faded.

But the pressure that had been building in my chest for so long finally began to ease.

Julian stood there, completely frozen.

He clearly hadn't expected things to spiral like this.

The woman who had stood beside him moments ago, graceful and composed, was now the target of everyone's whispers.

And he had been dragged into the same mess.

He turned to look at Vanessa.

Along with shock, there was a trace of resentment at being pulled down with her.

But Vanessa didn't look at him.

She stumbled toward the phone on the floor, picked it up in a panic, and fumbled to lock the screen.

The indecent audio cut off abruptly.

Her usually polished face had lost all color.

But everything that mattered had already been seen.

The air filled with overlapping voices.

Julian stood there, his expression dark as a storm.

He clearly realized there was no containing this anymore.

The next second, he turned sharply and walked straight toward the exit, not even glancing back at Vanessa.

He didn't look back once.

For a moment, I didn't react.

He just… left?

Leaving Vanessa behind.

Someone let out a cold laugh.

"He sure ran fast."

"So he just ditched his mistress the moment things blew up?"

Surrounded by whispers, Vanessa didn't chase after him.

She stood there, watching Julian's retreating figure, her composure cracking for a split second.

But the panic quickly vanished.

In its place came a strange calm.

Then she turned and smiled at me.

My chest tightened.

She walked over in her heels and stopped in front of my wheelchair.

She leaned down, close to my ear, and handed me the cracked phone. "Thank you."

I didn't understand for a moment. "What?"

Vanessa smiled, none of her earlier panic remaining—only a hint of satisfaction.

"Thank you," she repeated. "For giving me a chance to claim my place. If it weren't for this scene you made, who knows how much longer I would've had to wait."

My heart sank.

I suddenly realized—she had never been afraid of the video being exposed.

If anything… she had been ready to use it all along.

"Evelyn," she said with a soft laugh.

"You've held onto the position of Mrs. Crawford long enough," she paused, "It's time to give it back to me."

I frowned, about to respond.

A hand suddenly reached out.

It placed itself between me and Vanessa.

I froze and followed the hand with my eyes.

The man wore a white coat, his expression cold, his voice low and unquestionable.

"Security," he said, "this person is harassing my patient. Remove her."

The two guards the nurse had called quickly approached.

Vanessa let out a cold laugh and lifted her head, about to lash out.

But the moment she saw his face, she froze.

All color drained from her face.

"Mr… Mr. Sterling?"

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