Just then, Heather abruptly came in, prompting me to shove the phone into the nurse's pocket as quickly as I could.

Heather shot the nurse a look, which made the nurse hurry off.

Claire, who came in after Heather, questioned, "Christopher, what were you doing just now? You're about to marry Heather. If you dare mess around, I won't go easy on you."

I stayed silent. After Heather and Claire gave me some honey and lemon water, Claire suggested taking me out for a bit of fresh air.

Before I could even say anything, they exchanged a glance and wheeled me out without another word.

After the car stopped in front of a bar, they helped me into my wheelchair.

Unexpectedly, Heather said she had forgotten to bring my prescribed medicine, so they drove off without me, leaving me shivering in the cold wind alone.

That was when a group of women in their 50s or 60s appeared not far off. The one leading the group, a woman with a pitted face, strode toward me.

"Ladies, I found us a fine catch. Come check him out."

A lecherous-looking woman eyed me hungrily. "Look at all his injuries. Doesn't he look endearing with how pitiful and delicate he is? I've never had the chance to mess around with a disabled guy before."

They dragged me into the bar, shut the private room door, and began pouncing on me.

The pitted-faced woman started a live stream. "Everyone, check out this little thing. Isn't he pathetic?"

Several women started pulling at my shirt. I screamed for help, "Somebody help me! Is there no law left in this world?"

Someone smashed a bottle on my head. "Who said you could scream? Can you afford to handle the consequences of ruining my mood?"

As my shirt was ripped off, the wound on my stomach was exposed. The pitted-faced woman looked disappointed. "So not only is he a cripple, but he's also missing a kidney!

"He can't even be considered a man anymore. Ladies, what should we do with this useless thing?"

The viewers in the live stream continued to grow, clearly enjoying the spectacle. "Tie him up and make him crawl around like a dog."

"Since he's useless now, just throw him in the river. Seeing people like him pisses me off."

Right then, the door was kicked open. Narrowing my eyes to see better, I saw that it was Claire and Heather.

Heather ordered her bodyguards to subdue the women while Claire hurried to drape her coat over me.

Though the women were grabbed, they showed no fear at all. On the contrary, they looked completely at ease, like actors after "cut" was called.

As Claire wheeled me out, Heather said the women would be punished appropriately. But when I rolled the wheelchair back and peeked through the glass into the private room, I saw Heather handing them money.

My heart dropped, as if it had fallen into an icy abyss. So they had done all of this on purpose. They just wanted to rub salt into my wounds over and over again.

After returning to the hospital, I stared blankly at the ceiling, overwhelmed with despair. I refused to eat, acting like a living corpse.

Suddenly, the TV began reporting the news. "Famous racecar driver Christopher Bowman was spotted in a bar with several women in their 50s and 60s. He seemed to have a very messy private life."

Claire tried to turn it off, but switched it to a different channel that showed Samuel giving an interview.

He held up the trophy that should have been mine. "I earned this trophy on my own merit. Hard work always pays off."

As the TV abruptly turned off, I grew so mad that I passed out from overwhelming fury.

When I woke up groggily, I heard Claire worriedly say, "Christopher's already traumatized… If we keep ruining him like this, he'll never recover."

Heather spoke in a cold voice. "Breaking him mentally is exactly what I want to do. He must never pose a threat to Samuel, even if I have to take care of him for life. After all, Samuel saved our lives."

Pain shot through my waist when I heard that. They had no clue that if I hadn't taken action during that car accident, they wouldn't even be alive right now.

When Claire and Heather noticed that I was awake, they immediately stopped talking. Heather stammered in a probing tone, "C-Christopher, you didn't hear anything just now, right?"

I shook my head, and it was clear they were relieved.

Heather came over to hold my hand. "Christopher, don't listen to what anyone says. With me here, no one dares speak badly of you."

I gazed at her, my heart already broken. Wasn't she the one behind everything that had happened to me?

Not only did she destroy me physically, but she also broke me mentally. She was the one who didn't want me to recover and wanted me to become a complete wreck.

Heather cleared her throat before speaking hesitantly. "Christopher, our engagement photos won't turn out well with all your injuries at the moment.

"Why don't we have Samuel stand in for you, and we'll just edit your face onto his?"

Since the person in the photos could be substituted, maybe the groom could also be changed.

The moment I opened my mouth to protest, the pain in my ankle flared. I didn't even want to imagine what would happen if I refused her.

In the end, I simply nodded silently. Claire's frown gradually eased when she saw my reaction. "Christopher has always been sensible. He won't fuss over something that trivial."

Heather excused herself to take a call outside. When she came back, she said apologetically, "Claire and I have something important to take care of tonight. You'll have to look after yourself."

A while later, they went out to buy lunch.

When the nurse came to change my IV, she muttered indignantly, "Mr. Bowman, I can't believe they're going to go celebrate a race win when you're in this state. They clearly don't care about you."

That was the moment I finally understood that I was the one nobody cared about. After some time, Samuel suddenly came in and punched my injured ankle.

"Now that you're barely alive, do you still think you can compete with me? Tonight, Heather and Claire will be at my celebration. While we'll be clinking glasses, you'll be lying in this cold hospital bed, waiting for your end."

The pain left me soaked in sweat, my body trembling nonstop. I snapped, "Samuel, you lowlife! You didn't even win that trophy fairly. You'll always be inferior to me."

Samuel raised an eyebrow disdainfully. "You seriously won't learn until it's too late, huh? Maybe I should help you meet your end a little sooner."

He grabbed the fruit knife nearby, raising it over his head with both hands. Unable to move freely, I could only close my eyes and accept my fate.

A scream sounded, but I felt no pain. When I opened my eyes, I saw Samuel clutching his stomach before collapsing to the floor.

Just then, Heather and Claire came in and noticed that Samuel was bleeding from the stomach.

Storming over, Heather slapped me across the face. "Have you lost your mind, Christopher? Samuel came to see you out of goodwill. How could you stab him with a knife?"

Samuel flashed me a sinister smile before a look of grievance appeared on his face. "I just wanted to peel an apple for Christopher, but then he said that the trophy belonged to him and that he was going to kill me as I was inferior to him…"

Claire slapped the other side of my face. "Samuel won fair and square. How petty can you be? I'm really disappointed in you."

Heather, fuming, ordered her bodyguards, "Dump Christopher in the closest rainforest! He can come back when he finally learns his lesson!"

I screamed desperately for them not to do this to me, but they couldn't care less about me. All they cared about was Samuel's injury.

That evening, at the celebration, someone tried to drink with Samuel, but Heather stopped them.

"Samuel's injured. He can't drink. I'll drink his share for today."

Later, someone jeered, "Samuel, aren't you supposed to take the engagement photos on Christopher's behalf? Why don't you raise a glass in his place as well?"

Samuel picked up a glass of juice from the side, looking expectantly at Heather.

Heather said graciously, "Since it's a happy occasion, I'll go along with it."

Just as they were about to toast to each other, a bodyguard burst into the room, holding a torn, blood-stained shirt. "Ms. Vega, Mr. Bowman is missing. He may already be dead."