I was playing hide-and-seek with my daughter Bella when it happened. Out of nowhere, my wife's stepbrother, Austin Schulz, pushed her off the fifth-floor balcony.

She died on the spot.

When I confronted him, the excuse he gave was so pathetic it barely qualified as human.

"It was dark. I didn't realize it was a person. I thought it was a stray dog. I got scared…"

I lost it.

"You couldn't tell the difference between a little girl and a dog? Are you blind?!"

I was screaming, my voice almost feral.

Bloodshot eyes and tear-streaked cheeks, my wife Jillian pulled me into a hug. She swore she'd make him pay for what he did to Bella.

Then, before I could fall apart, she drugged me.

When I woke up, I couldn't open my eyes.

My eyelids had been sewn shut.

They dumped me in some abandoned building, and the first voice I heard was my wife.

Jillian...

She stood there with Austin, clutching his arm as if he might break.

Her voice was sharp, flat, and cold as she said, "Austin lost his sight when he was a kid. He was bullied for it. What you said earlier was cruel and triggering."

She tilted her head and sneered, "You like calling people blind so much? Then go ahead. Try being blind yourself. Find your own way out."

I staggered forward, tripping into walls, smashing into rusted beams. Blood poured down my face, but I didn't stop.

Above me, their laughter rang out cruelly, as if they were waiting for the moment I broke down and fell to my knees, sobbing and begging for a shred of mercy.

But I didn't.

I turned toward the rooftop, my hands trailing the cold concrete wall as I moved. My fingers found the black diamond earring tucked behind my ear. No one else had noticed it.

I spoke quietly, "I want a new wife. Send a helicopter. You've got one hour."

——

Christian's POV

Right after I turned away, Jillian's friends—the trust-fund clowns in designer boots—burst out laughing.

"Christian, are you serious right now?" one of them snorted. "Did you not hear her? She said, 'Get out of the building,' not climb it. Are you that blind?"

"Oh wait," someone else chimed in, "He actually is blind. Poor little charity case."

"Seriously, he should be grateful the Schulz family even took him in. And he still had the balls to insult Jillian's brother? Honestly, sewing his eyes shut was a generous act. They should've just cut them out."

"Hey, Blind man, need help finding your way?" another one jeered. "We can clap and snap for you like a good little guide dog."

They began making noise, mocking with barks and whistles, trying to lure me into crashing into the walls again, as if it were just a game.

The factory was freezing. I was dressed only in thin sleepwear, my skin already numb from the cold. I clung to the walls, searching for the stairs.

Up above, Jillian lounged on a leather couch, curled up with Austin. Worried he might get cold, she had people bring over a few mink blankets.

She leaned forward, watching me with distant amusement.

"Christian, cold, isn't it? In the shape you're in, there's no way you're making it out of here alone. So, how about this? You kneel. Apologize to Austin. I'll take you home right now."

I stopped, lifted my head in her direction. "Does what you said about avenging our daughter still stand?"

She must've thought I was finally caving.

Her tone softened slightly, almost sweet. "Of course. As soon as we get home, I'll ground Austin. Three hours. That should be enough for you, right?"

A sharp cold settled in my chest.

That was it?

That's what our daughter's life meant to her?

I looked straight ahead and kept my voice even.

"Jillian, listen carefully. I would rather die than apologize to the man who killed my child!"

The words hit like a hammer.

Austin's eyes filled with tears, perfectly timed.

"Jill, he still hates me," he sniffled. "I really didn't see her… If he hates me that much, I'll jump off this building and make it up to Bella!"

But I knew the truth.

I remembered exactly what I had seen.

I saw my daughter hanging from the balcony railing, her tiny fingers gripping tight. I saw her crying, begging her Uncle Austin for help.

And I saw his leather shoe stomp down on her hands—deliberately and violently.

Austin smiled when she fell.

Jillian's face turned hard.

"Christian, I know you've always been jealous of how much I care about Austin. But he's my brother. Of course, I take care of him. You're his brother-in-law. Can't you be a little more generous?"

Christian's POV

"Besides, Bella's death was just an accident. If you hadn't been playing hide-and-seek with her, she'd still be alive. And you've got the nerve to blame Austin?!"

There it was again.

Whenever something involved Austin, Jillian would change the story. Logic, decency, and even common sense didn't matter as long as her beloved stepbrother was part of it.

And this wasn't the first time.

I still remember the mango incident like it happened yesterday. Bella was allergic, and Jillian was aware of it. We'd told everyone, made sure the whole damn house knew.

And Austin? He still gave her mango slices behind our backs like it was nothing.

I barely got a word out when I confronted him.

That same night, Jillian flew back from a trip overseas, stormed into the house, and shoved a bottle of hard liquor into my hands.

She made me drink the entire thing.

It didn't matter that I was allergic to alcohol, too.

Within minutes, I was breaking out in rashes, gasping for air as my throat started to close up. I stumbled to the medicine cabinet, only to find it completely cleaned out. Not a single allergy pill left.

Jillian stood there with her arms crossed, totally unfazed.

"Austin just brought her some fruit, alright? Vitamins and stuff," she said, like that made perfect sense. "He was trying to be nice. Do you really have to make a federal case out of it? What kind of brother-in-law acts like this, anyway?"

Then she chucked a notebook at me.

"Write out the Schulz family rules. Ten times. No meds until you're done."

That night, I almost died choking on my own breath.

There were countless moments like that. I had been a fool to think Jillian would truly defend Bella or me.

Unable to forget those painful memories, I chose not to respond to her. I just kept moving forward, feeling my way through the dark until my hand found the stair railing.

But the second I grabbed it, my foot slipped. My knee slammed into the concrete with a crunch, blood pouring down my leg.

I heard the slight catch in Jillian's breath. For a moment, I thought she might actually get up.

But Austin beat her to it with a perfectly timed, tragic sigh.

"I really envy Christian," he said with this fake wistfulness. "He only had his eyelids sewn shut. When I lost my sight for a bit as a kid, the bullying was brutal. There were these kids... they shoved explosive salt in my eyes. The burning was unbearable."

Austin sniffled like a damn soap opera actor, letting a few crocodile tears roll down.

"After I got better, Mom and I moved in with the Schulz family. I thought the pain was over. I thought I'd finally be safe. But people still call me blind. Still mock me. It hurts, Jill. It really does."

Right on cue, Jillian's whole expression snapped cold.

"Christian," she said through clenched teeth, "you just had to bring up that word. You triggered him."

Then she turned to the butler.

"Go grab ten bottles of 99% pepper spray. Pour them into his eye slits."

Before I could react, the butler and the rest of those spoiled rich bastards pinned me to the floor. My eyelids had been stitched shut so tightly that they had to tear the skin to open them.

And then it began.

One bottle at a time, straight into my exposed, raw eyes.

The burn wasn't just surface-level. It tore straight through me, into the nerves, into the bone. My scream came from somewhere deep, almost animal. I couldn't stop it.

One of the rich kids laughed and grabbed a bottle, then forced it into my mouth.

"Let's clean that dirty mouth of his, too. Might make him think twice before talking back to Austin."

Austin added, "Hey, easy. If you mess up his throat, how's he supposed to apologize later?"

I coughed until I thought my lungs would tear themselves apart. Tears, spit, bile—it all poured out of me as I fought to stay conscious through the burn.

Still blind, still trembling, I searched until my fingers grasped a liquor bottle nearby. I threw it with all my remaining strength in Austin's direction.

"I don't want your fake sympathy, you murderer! You didn't just hurt me—you took a child's life. My daughter. Don't worry, she might just come for you in your dreams!"

However, the bottle lacked sufficient force or reach. It crashed harmlessly on the floor.

Austin let out a shriek and jumped straight into Jillian's arms like some helpless child.

"Jill, he really does hate me. He wants me dead. I'm scared. I wish I had caught Bella. I really do…"

Jillian stroked his back like she was comforting a crying child. Then she turned to me with pure venom in her eyes.

"Christian, you've seriously lost it. Blind and still causing trouble? And now you're trying to hurt Austin, too? Apologize. Right now."

I didn't say a word.

Instead, I turned and placed my foot on the staircase.

That's when Jillian's patience finally snapped.

"Bring in the beer cases." Her tone dropped several degrees below freezing.

Then, she pointed at me like I was a target in a carnival game. "Christian likes throwing bottles, huh? Good. Let's give him more. From now on, every single hit on him earns $10 million. No limit."

Everyone cheered with excitement.

Ten million per bottle. No cap.

And I was the prize.

Christian's POV

It wasn't just the usual crowd anymore. Even the bored, spoiled trust fund brats were suddenly wide-eyed with excitement, practically bouncing on their heels.

Then, with a sharp crack, a glass bottle nailed me in the side of the head and exploded on impact. The sting of alcohol combined with the warmth of blood as both flowed down my face. My head spun, everything around me lurching sideways like a ride gone off the rails.

The punk who scored the hit shrieked with glee, skipping to collect their $10 million prize from Jillian as if they hit the jackpot.

I didn't have time to be a sitting duck. I knew if I stood there like some helpless target, I'd get torn apart. So I forced myself forward.

I had to keep moving.

That first throw got everyone fired up. Bottles started flying everywhere, crashing like a storm of glass and cheap whiskey. Most of them missed, breaking harmlessly on the stairs around me, but that only made the next volley more reckless.

By the time the last one broke, the entire staircase looked like a war zone. Jagged shards coated the steps like a minefield.

I had been so focused on dodging that I didn't notice until my foot landed wrong, slipped, and I crashed face-first into the floor.

Agony ripped through me.

Glass tore into my skin like razors, slicing across my arms, my chest, my hands. Blood poured freely, painting a crimson trail across the dirty concrete.

Off to the side, the butler leaned toward Jillian, her voice low but nervous. "Miss Schulz, Sir Christian already has anemia. If this keeps up, he might bleed out…"

Jillian gave a small smile, her tone light and almost chipper. "I know. That's why I told the maid to make him some iron-rich soup."

Then she added, casually flipping her hair out of her face, "This is all just to teach Christian a lesson. So he stops bullying Austin."

She gave me another once-over, her expression flat.

"Besides, didn't you see? He keeps heading for the rooftop. It's dangerous up there. If he falls, that's on him. Maybe once he sees the stairs are covered in broken glass, he'll come to his senses."

But what she didn't see coming was that even with my body shredded, bleeding, and half broken, I still managed to get back up.

Trembling, I pushed myself up from the ground.

One foot in front of the other, I kept climbing. Every step drove glass deeper into the soles of my feet. My shoes were soaked with blood by the time I reached the third stair.

Behind me, the crowd quieted, and even Jillian's smirk faltered as she looked uneasy, maybe realizing this wasn't going as she thought.

But before guilt could settle, Austin leaned into her side, his voice soft and whiny like a lovesick teen.

"Jill, can't you tell? Christian is doing this just to get under your skin. He knows damn well there's no exit that way. He's just too proud to admit he's wrong."

Then he paused, let the silence do the talking.

"All those guys who marry into wealthy families? They know how to behave. They'd crawl through fire just to please their wives. But Christian? He keeps fighting back. Always challenging you."

Austin lowered his voice to ensure she caught the next line. "Sometimes I wonder... does he even love you? If he doesn't, then why'd he marry into the Schulz family to begin with?"

And that was all it took.

Jillian's face darkened like a storm cloud rolling in.

"So that's it," she snapped. "All that sweet-talking, all that playing the loyal husband—it was all just a damn act? You're just like every other gold-digging pretty boy. You played me into marrying you. All for the money!"

Her voice dropped colder, eyes narrowing like a blade.

"You wanna keep playing tough? Keep pushing your luck? Fine. Let's break your legs and see how far that attitude takes you."

Two of the wealthy kids stepped forward, baseball bats already in their hands and matching grins across their smug faces.

I barely had time to brace.

One of the bats came down hard on my knee, and I heard the crunch before I felt it.

I dropped, my whole body buckling under the pain. My knees hit the glass, and more shards tore into me like they were hungry for blood.

I never thought it'd come to this.

I never thought the woman I once loved would stand there and watch while I was beaten like an animal.

Following her car crash, she completely lost her memory of her identity. I discovered her, almost unresponsive, by the roadside. I dedicated every penny I had to healing her. Six months of my life vanished in the process.

I cleaned her wounds, fed her, kept her warm, and helped her recover her ability to walk. I gave her everything.

She once looked me dead in the eyes and told me she'd make me the happiest man alive.

To buy me a watch for my birthday, she took on three delivery jobs. She delivered food all night just to make it happen. She handed me that watch with the brightest smile I've ever seen.

"Christian," she said, "one day, I'll give you the best the world has to offer."

But everything changed the second she regained her memory, rejoined the Schulz family, and had a private talk with Austin.

After that, everything changed.

She constantly looked at me with suspicion, doubting everything I said, while trusting Austin completely.

And to protect the man who murdered our daughter, she had my eyes sewn shut, dumped me in this hellhole, and let these people humiliate and torture me.

I should have seen it coming. We may have been a mistake from the start.

Still bleeding, trembling, I reached for the black diamond earring I'd kept hidden. My fingertips found it.

I took a breath and once again said calmly, "I want a new wife. Send the helicopter. You've got one hour."