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.

I finally noticed Elijah had changed his status message.

It had always been the same, a single word. [Wait.]

When I once asked him what it meant, he smiled and said he was waiting for my legs to heal.

But now, it had changed. [Home.]

And at last, I understood.

Wait had never been for me. He had been waiting for Scarlett. Home meant she was finally back.

I placed his phone back on the nightstand and stepped onto the balcony, my fingers tightening around my own.

"Hello, I’d like to book a plane ticket. Departure in five days."

Five days, just enough to bury five years of lies.

That night, I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, unable to sleep.

The next day, during lunch, my phone lit up.

Elijah’s gaze flicked to it from the corner of his eye. His expression darkened.

"Wife, why are you applying to cancel your bank card?"

I shut off the screen, my voice calm. "My card is expiring. I scheduled a renewal."

He looked like he wanted to say something else, but then his phone rang.

"Wife, something came up at work. I have to handle it. I won’t be able to have lunch with you."

I nodded, watching as my parents followed him out the door.

And just like that, I was left alone in this house.

Just as I was about to step out, a friend request popped up on my phone.

[Azalea, you heard everything at the hospital yesterday, didn’t you?]

It was Scarlett.

[Your husband and I have a son.]

[Even your biological parents, when they heard from the doctor that your injuries had left you unable to bear children, immediately chose me instead. They told Elijah to be with me, to have a child with me.]

[We’re the real couple. You? You’re nothing but a joke.]

[They even helped me start a company. The grand opening is in five days. I guess they didn’t bother telling you that either, right?]

[I regret not running you over sooner. Then all of this would’ve been mine from the start.]

…

Each word sliced through me like a blade, cutting deep, leaving nothing but raw, open wounds.

So, this was why my parents had cast me aside.

This was why Elijah had stayed by her side so willingly.

Fingers trembling, I took screenshots of the messages and turned to the nightstand, retrieving my marriage certificate.

Buried inside, I found something else: his letter of forgiveness.

Clutching the documents, I headed straight to a lawyer.

But after scanning through them, he frowned.

The lawyer had explained that chat records couldn’t be used as solid evidence and that a letter of forgiveness from family members held legal weight.

When I asked him to draft the divorce agreement, he frowned and revealed that the marriage certificate was fake.

It felt like a bolt of lightning had struck me, leaving my heart plummeting into a bottomless abyss.

So Scarlett hadn’t lied. I truly had been nothing but a fool, a puppet in their cruel game.

But just as despair threatened to consume me, the lawyer’s eyes flickered with something new.

The lawyer's eyes lit up as he stated that, given the circumstances, Elijah's letter of forgiveness no longer held legal weight—it was an act of fraud and concealment.

A surge of hope rushed through me, breaking past the suffocating grief. Clutching onto that sliver of light, I begged him to help me file a lawsuit.

Leaving the law firm, I hailed a taxi and made my way to another hospital; my fingers clenched tightly around the fabric of my dress.

This time, I needed the truth.

When the doctor told me there was still hope for my leg, I broke down in tears of joy.

A sob tore from my throat as my vision blurred with tears.

He told me that the car accident had caused my fallopian tubes to become blocked, making it impossible for me to conceive. However, surgery could restore my fertility.

As for my leg, the fracture hadn’t worsened in the past five years and with surgery, I could regain my ability to walk soon.

I choked on my breath, struggling to process his words.

He smiled reassuringly. "It’s clear that someone has been taking good care of you. If your legs had been truly neglected for five years, there would’ve been no hope of recovery."

A bitter chill seeped into my bones, spreading through my heart like ice.

He didn’t know.

He had no idea that the very people he spoke of, my so-called family, were the ones who never wanted me to stand again.

No.

They were no longer my family.

As I stepped out of the hospital, my phone vibrated in my hand. Another message from Scarlett.

It was a photo.

In the picture, she cradled her son in Elijah’s arms, their faces glowing with contentment. My parents sat beside them, mirroring their joy.

The five of them smiled as if they belonged together.

Behind them, on the grand villa’s pristine wall, my father’s personally inscribed calligraphy read:

[A harmonious family brings prosperity.]

The cruel irony twisted deep inside me, cutting sharper than any blade.