You Called Me A Cripple: He Called Me His Wife

My hands had no strength left.

My whole body felt boneless, collapsing into the wheelchair. I kept my eyes closed, gripping the armrest unconsciously, my breathing uneven.

His slender fingers moved beneath me.

The hollow ache being filled bit by bit made me tremble.

"Ah…"

The sound slipped out before I could stop it. I froze, yet my body responded on its own.

The next second, his hand suddenly stopped, as if about to withdraw.

In that instant, everything vanished. Almost instinctively, I reached out and grabbed his wrist, pulling his hand closer.

The moment I realized what I had done, I froze.

What was I… doing?

I quickly let go, startled.

"I-I'm sorry…"

My voice was barely audible. I was too ashamed to even open my eyes.

A faint chuckle broke the silence.

He said nothing. He simply pulled a tissue from the side and wiped his hands clean at an unhurried pace.

His movements were composed, as if he had just completed a routine procedure.

Then, as if recalling something, he spoke. "Miss Ashford."

I opened my eyes.

He had already leaned down to my level, straightening my dress as he calmly asked, "Would you be interested in working as my secretary?"

I froze. "What?"

I thought I had misheard.

Working for him?

"I happen to have a project," he said casually. "A study on neural repair for the legs. I think you'd be interested."

My legs.

My throat tightened.

After years of paralysis, I had tried every treatment I could. None had worked.

He simply watched me and continued, "Didn't you study pharmaceutical research? I happen to need someone."

I nodded blankly.

"I did… but that was before I got married."

Over the years, I had almost completely abandoned my field.

After getting married, all my time revolved around Julian—handling company documents for him, helping him plan and strategize.

Rather than his wife, I was more like his unpaid secretary.

And yet, Julian had never even given me a single word of praise.

And I had accepted it willingly.

Thinking back now, even I found it absurd.

Damian didn't seem to care about any of that.

"It doesn't matter." He said, "If I say you can, then you can."

He paused, then added, "Of course, if you join the project team, I can also give you treatment."

My heart skipped.

"Treatment?"

What kind of treatment?

Damian's gaze fell to my legs. "Don't you want to stand again? If the project goes well, your legs still have a chance."

It wasn't the kind of treatment I had imagined. I let out a quiet breath.

But at the same time, there was a faint, subtle disappointment.

"If I agree… how long will it take?" After a moment of silence, I asked slowly.

"Two years," he said without hesitation. "On one condition—the project is confidential. You'll have to stay within the research team for those two years. You won't be able to freely contact the outside world during that time."

Two years.

Julian's face suddenly flashed through my mind.

"Okay."

Damian didn't seem surprised by my agreement at all.

"But—" I added, "I need to get divorced first."

Julian had just stood in the hospital lobby and said, in front of everyone, that he couldn't feel desire for a cripple like me.

Then there was no reason for this marriage to continue.

He said, "Alright. Do you need my help?"

Just like that, everything was settled.

By the time I left the hospital, it was already getting dark.

Before I left, Damian and I exchanged contact information.

"Hello, I'm the lawyer recommended by Mr. Sterling… Dr. Sterling. My name is Nathan Cole."

As soon as I got into the car, my phone rang.

"What are your requirements regarding the divorce?"

My conversation with Nathan was smooth, and he worked efficiently.

By the time I reached the entrance of my residential area, the electronic version of the divorce agreement had already been sent to my phone.

After returning home, I printed the documents and signed them myself.

I placed the divorce agreement on Julian's desk and took a deep breath.

Four years of marriage had come down to just a few sheets of paper.

Ending it like this wasn't such a bad thing.

I pushed aside the confusion in my mind and wheeled myself back to the bedroom, packing a few clothes.

There wasn't much to take.

Most of the closet was empty.

This home had never belonged to me. I just hadn't realized it until now.

By the time I dragged my suitcase into the elevator and headed downstairs, it was completely dark.

The moment the elevator doors opened, a familiar engine roar echoed outside.

Julian was back.