Five years after reuniting with my wealthy biological family, the so-called heiress Scarlett Harrison ran me down with her car, shattering my leg.

My parents and my childhood sweetheart, Elijah Parker, rushed me to the hospital in a panic. When the doctor solemnly declared that I might never walk again, Elijah dropped to one knee without hesitation, vowing to take care of me for the rest of my life.

My parents had severed all ties with Scarlett and taken charge of the evidence, assuring me that justice would be served. With that, I could finally rest and focus on my recovery.

Later, they claimed Scarlett had drowned accidentally while fleeing in guilt and I believed them.

It wasn’t until five years into my marriage that I unexpectedly saw Scarlett, the woman who was supposed to be dead.

She cradled a little boy in her arms, her voice soft yet brimming with emotion as she spoke to Elijah.

“These past years, I’ve been so grateful to you and Mom and Dad. Without you, I would have ended up in some run-down sewing factory cast aside by Azalea.”

“That cripple never would have imagined, even in death, that you and I have a son. That Mom and Dad were in on it all along, wiping away the evidence, switching out her medication for worthless vitamins.”

“Don’t say that,” he murmured. “Marrying her was the only way I could keep issuing those forgiveness letters. It was the only way to keep you safe.”

“As long as you and our son are happy, none matters.”

So that was the truth.

The marriage I had once clung to as my salvation had been nothing more than a cruel illusion. My parents had betrayed me and discarded me, all for the sake of fraud.

Fine.

If I was nothing to them, then I would walk away.

——

I stood in silence in the hospital lobby, watching as Scarlett held her son. Elijah stood beside her, his family beaming with joy.

It felt as if someone had hollowed out my chest, leaving behind nothing but a raw, gaping wound. The pain was suffocating; I could barely breathe.

The husband who once vowed to stand by me, to cherish me, had loved the very woman who nearly ended my life.

And my parents, after erasing the evidence, still refused to believe me. Instead, they had Elijah marry me, not out of love, but to keep issuing letters of forgiveness, shielding Scarlett from the consequences of her actions.

My phone rang.

It was my mother.

“Azalea, why didn’t you wait for us to go to the hospital together? We’re on our way. Where are you?”

Hearing the urgency in her voice, fury surged through me, burning away the last remnants of my restraint.

I curled my fingers into fists, my nails digging deep into my palms.

“Oh, I just thought I shouldn’t inconvenience you my whole life,” I said, my voice light, almost mocking. “So this time, I decided to come for rehabilitation on my own.”

“We’re family! How could you ever be a burden to us? Have you reached the hospital yet? We’re nearby; we’ll be there right away!”

Family.

Before, every time I came for rehabilitation, my parents had always been by my side.

I had once mistaken their actions for love and concern. But now, the truth lay bare before me.

“Hmm, I just arrived. I’m about to enter the lobby.”

I maneuvered my wheelchair around the corner and deliberately paused.

As expected, their voices turned sharp with panic. They told me not to go inside, saying it was too crowded and too unsafe. They reassured me they were close and that they would come to find me right away.

A cold smile tugged at my lips.

I replied indifferently and ended the call.

Just then, I saw Elijah answering his phone. His expression tensed immediately. He whispered something to Scarlett, handed their son over to her and then slipped out through the back door in a hurry.

Scarlett, too, disappeared into the crowd.

Understanding struck like a blade to the chest.

The call had come from my parents.

They weren’t stopping me out of concern for my safety.

They were afraid I’d see Elijah and Scarlett together.

A wave of shock and sorrow crashed over me, threatening to pull me under. My whole life, every word, every gesture of kindness, had been nothing but a carefully woven lie.

And all of it was for Scarlett.

The true culprit. The one who had taken everything from me.

I curled my fingers, nails biting deep into my palm. The sharp pain steadied me, cutting through the haze.

Since they had gone to such lengths to deceive me, I would return the favor completely.

I pulled out my phone, pressed record and then guided my wheelchair toward the hospital entrance just as my parents came rushing over.

Mom’s eyes flickered with unease.

“Azalea, why didn’t you wait for us before going in?”

Dad’s frown deepened beside her. “Didn’t we tell you the hospital is packed and chaotic? We can’t let you go in alone; it’s not safe.”

I met their worried gazes with calm indifference.

“I couldn’t wait any longer, so I went inside to use the restroom,” I replied evenly, my face betraying nothing.

Mom hesitated before asking, “You didn’t see anyone, did you?”

The flicker of panic in her expression cut through me like a blade. I wanted to scream, to demand answers; why did you lie to me?

But I already knew the truth. Asking wouldn’t change anything.

I had already decided to leave.

“See anyone? I was in a hurry and spent a while in the restroom. I wasn’t paying attention.”

Dad exhaled. “Let’s go. We’ll take you upstairs.”

He took hold of my wheelchair while Mom crouched down, adjusting my mask with delicate care.

“The flu is spreading. You need to protect yourself. If you get sick, it’ll break my heart.”

Once, the concern in her eyes would have moved me to tears.

But now, I couldn’t feel even a trace of warmth in her gaze.

When we arrived at the rehabilitation center on the twelfth floor, I lay on the hospital bed as the doctor administered the anesthesia. Drowsiness pulled me under, but just before I slipped into unconsciousness, their voices drifted through the haze.

"Miss Harrison’s leg has been left untreated for too long. If she doesn’t undergo surgery soon, she may never stand again…"

"All the previous rehabilitation treatments were only done halfway and the prescribed medication was replaced with vitamins, per your orders. Chairman Harrison, are you truly willing to watch Azalea remain crippled for life at such a young age?"

"I didn’t pay a fortune to bring you back from abroad just to listen to your nonsense. Do as I say."

Dad’s words held no room for argument.

"So what if she never walks again? We can take care of her for a lifetime. Why should an outsider like you be concerned?"

"Don’t forget, we’ve been paying your salary for the past five years. Do you really think you belong to the hospital?"

The doctor hesitated. "That’s not what I meant. It’s just Azalea has been under anesthesia for years. If this continues, she may develop resistance to it. What will we do then?"

"That’s your problem to solve. Just make sure her legs neither recover nor deteriorate. Keep it under control."

A beat of hesitation. Then, the doctor’s reluctant response.

"Understood."

The door creaked open and their footsteps faded down the hall.

I lay there as if I had plunged into an icy abyss.

They didn’t know.

Didn’t know that the anesthesia had long lost its effect on me.

Didn’t know that I had heard every single word.

Didn’t know that I had recorded it all.

So this was their plan all along.

They had spent five years feeding me lies, hiring a doctor from abroad just to deceive me. No wonder the so-called rehabilitation center was tucked away on the twelfth floor of the inpatient ward; it was all a carefully woven illusion.

A sharp pain lanced through my chest and silent tears slipped from the corners of my eyes.

After the "treatment," my parents cheerfully wheeled me home, warmth laced into every word and gesture as if they hadn’t just sentenced me to a life of suffering.

Two hours ago, Elijah had been at the hospital, whispering sweet nothings to Scarlett.

Now, he stood at the door in an apron, smiling like the devoted fiancé he pretended to be.

"Dear, rehabilitation must have been exhausting, right? I made you some bone broth. It’ll help you recover faster!"

His gaze brimmed with tenderness, his voice rich with concern, just like the man who once swore to love me, to cherish me, to stand by my side forever.

If I hadn’t seen him with Scarlett at the hospital, if I hadn’t heard their whispered truths, I might have believed him.

Might have let that warmth seep into my frozen heart.

But now, all I saw was the lie.

His love had never been mine.

It had always belonged to the very woman who shattered my legs.

He was willing to sacrifice our marriage, to pretend to love me, all just to issue a letter of forgiveness for her.

He even had a son with her.

During dinner, my mother suddenly teared up, her gaze lingering on the dishes before her. She wiped at her eyes, her expression heavy with sorrow.

Elijah immediately put down his spoon and fork, his face filled with concern as he asked what was wrong.

My father let out a long sigh, gently patting her back.

"She must be thinking about Scarlett’s favorite dishes and starting to miss her."

"That child, she made a mistake, but we raised her for over ten years. She didn’t deserve to die."

A bitter taste filled my mouth.

She didn’t deserve to die?

Then what about me?

Did I deserve to be sacrificed for her? Was I just supposed to accept it?

"Darling, it’s been five years already," Elijah said softly. "Scarlett was only twenty back then. She might have acted impulsively and made a mistake."

"I grew up with her. Her personality was a little extreme. She thought you were trying to take everything from her."

"Five days from now is her death anniversary. I know you don’t want to go, so I’ll go with Mom and Dad to visit her grave, okay?"

Elijah’s gaze wavered as if afraid I would suddenly lose my temper.

"Hmm. You should go. After all, she lived in this house longer than I have. It’s only natural that you still have feelings for her."

Elijah let out a quiet sigh of relief, his voice turning even gentler.

"I knew you were kind-hearted. You’ve never been the type to hold a grudge against your late sister."

My mother dabbed at her eyes, sniffling softly.

"My dear daughter, a child of our own blood will always be the most understanding…"

I lowered my head, my tears slipping silently into my bowl.

So, they did know I was their real daughter.

A sharp pain twisted in my stomach. The moment I felt it tighten, I pushed back my chair and murmured that I wasn’t feeling well before retreating to my room.

A while later, Elijah came in, carrying my stomach medicine. His eyes were full of concern, his voice unbearably soft.

Seeing that I had no intention of speaking, he said nothing. Instead, he silently fetched warm water and, with practiced care, wiped my face himself.

For ten years after I was brought home, I was the only one he saw.

Even when Scarlett confessed her feelings for him, she had been met with nothing but his cold rejection.

Now, I finally understood.

He never loved me. He only wanted the title of the future heir of the Harrison Group.

His love and his marriage had always been two separate things.

Late at night, after Elijah drifted into sleep, I reached for the phone on his bedside table.

The password was my birthday.

His pinned contact was me, followed by my parents.

I scrolled through his messages, but there was nothing unusual until I switched accounts.

That was when I found an alternate account.

Only one name appeared in his chat list. Scarlett.

[Elijah, it’s been five years. How much longer do I have to keep hiding?]

[She has no proof I hit her and she’s a cripple now. She’s no threat at all.]

[Our son keeps crying for his daddy. Can you really bear this?]

Elijah’s response was full of reassurance.

[My parents and I are already discussing a plan. Just be patient.]

So, they had already brought Scarlett back. Changed her name. Built an entire life for her.

Just a few days ago.

They even registered a real estate company in her name.

In five days, the grand opening would take place.

My hands trembled as I opened Elijah’s social media feed.

I scrolled. My heart turned ice-cold.

For five years, Scarlett had been living in luxury abroad, funded by my family.

She dressed in designer brands under the Harrison Group. The villa she lived in? One of the company’s overseas properties.

And Elijah? He had been by her side all along, using “business trips” as an excuse to fly over.

Even my own parents were in the photos, smiling as if they belonged there.

At that moment, I understood.

They were the real family.

Swallowing back the stinging tears, I took screenshots of the evidence and switched back to his main account.