The intense pain made my entire body convulse.

I suddenly opened my eyes, my pupils unfocused.

Amelia immediately threw away the bloodstained scalpel and replaced it with an expression of extreme concern.

She picked up a cup of water and carefully brought it to my lips.

"Damien, don't be afraid. Did you have a nightmare?"

Her voice was so gentle, and her eyes were full of concern.

"Here, have some water. I'm here with you. No one can hurt you."

I turned my head away.

The water ran from the corner of my mouth and down my neck.

Amelia took out a handkerchief and carefully wiped it away.

"You just had a seizure. The nerves in both your legs have completely died. To save your life, the doctor had no choice but to perform a lumbar puncture."

Her eyes reddened, and her voice choked with emotion.

"It's all my fault for not taking better care of you. The doctor said you may never get out of bed again."

She took my hand and pressed it against her cheek.

"But it doesn't matter. Even if you become a cripple who can never leave his bed, you'll still be the only love of my life. I'll take care of you forever."

I looked at her affectionate face, and my stomach churned violently.

Instinctively, I flailed my arms and desperately shrank toward the edge of the bed.

I just wanted to get farther away from this poisonous woman.

Amelia's expression changed.

She lunged forward and tightly grabbed my shoulders.

"Damien! Stop moving! Your back is still bleeding!"

She was incredibly strong, her arms tightening around me.

The puncture wound in my back instantly tore open.

Warm blood flowed out and soaked through my hospital gown.

"I'm sorry... I'm sorry, Damien! This is all my fault!"

Amelia buried her head in the crook of my neck, and hot tears fell onto my collarbone.

"I'm so afraid of losing you. You can hit me or yell at me if you want, but please don't hurt yourself."

She was practically kneeling beside the bed as she raised her right hand to swear an oath.

"I swear I'll never let you suffer even the slightest grievance again."

I stared at the ceiling.

Amazing.

This Oscar-worthy performance had fooled me for seven whole years.

I stopped struggling.

Tilting my head, I put on a dazed, foolish expression, raised a bloodstained finger, and pointed at my chest.

"It hurts... In my dream, Dad was crying... My sister's face was burned away by fire... They were calling for help... It hurts so much..."

Amelia's body suddenly stiffened.

A trace of panic flashed through her eyes, then she let out a long sigh of relief.

"It’s okay, Damien. Those were just dreams, the complete opposite of reality."

She stroked my hair, her tone gentle.

"Your dad retired to an island overseas. He spends his days fishing and enjoying the sun. Your sister is studying for exams at a boarding school. They're both doing very well.

"I'll protect you as if you were my own life. If anyone dares touch you, I'll kill them."

I fought back the urge to vomit and didn't pull away.

Amelia stood up and straightened her wrinkled collar.

"You're all alone and must be bored. How about I ask the nanny to bring Ben over to keep you company? You always liked children."

That was the illegitimate child she had with Liam Hill.

I can’t believe Amelia wanted to use the child of my enemy to replace my dead daughter.

Suddenly, I turned my head away and covered my eyes with both hands.

A sharp cry escaped my throat.

"No! Scared! Dizzy... Want to sleep!"

I buried my face in the blanket.

My body trembled uncontrollably.

A mocking smile curled at the corners of Amelia's lips.

"Damien, now that you're sick, you need to learn to rely on your wife more. Stop being so stubborn."

She let go and turned to leave the hospital room.

‘Amelia, you'd better not die too soon.’

"I want to go home... I want to go home..."

I wailed at the top of my lungs in the hospital room, throwing pillows and water cups onto the floor.

Amelia pushed the door open, and her brows instantly knitted together.

She hurried over and grabbed my flailing hands.

"Okay, okay. We're going home. I’ll take you home right now."

She knew very well that I was now an irrational madman.

To calm me down, she immediately had her assistant handle the discharge paperwork.

She helped me off the hospital bed and carried me all the way to the underground parking garage.

After settling me into the backseat of her black Maybach, she climbed in right beside me.

Inside the black Maybach, Amelia held me in her arms, her chin resting beside my ear.

"Damien, from now on, I'll be your legs. Wherever you want to go, I'll carry you there.

"For the rest of my life, I'll never let go of your hand."

I leaned against her chest and listened to her steady heartbeat.

So it seemed the heartbeat of a cold-blooded animal was no different from that of a normal person.

The car stopped in front of the Morgan estate.

Amelia carried me into the living room.

The moment I looked up, my gaze locked onto the object in the center of the room.

A portrait and an urn stood in the middle of the living room.

It was a Chihuahua Liam had raised.

Amelia placed me in a wheelchair and pushed me in front of it. Suddenly, she reached out and pressed down hard on the back of my neck.

"Kneel and pray, Damien."

Her voice was soft, but it carried an authority that could not be resisted.

Since my legs were completely useless, I fell straight out of the wheelchair and landed heavily on my knees before the dead dog's portrait.

Amelia crouched down and stroked my face.

"Our baby was lost due to premature illness. A priest said we need to pray for other living creatures so our baby's soul can rest in peace. Can you offer a few prayers for the dog?"

She looked at me gently.

"Why aren't you praying? Don't you want our baby to rest in peace?"

I stared at the dog's portrait.

For the past three years, every morning at six o'clock, Amelia had unfailingly woken me up and forced me to kneel here and pray.

She said it was to help our dead daughter pass on peacefully.

If my prayers weren't loud enough, she would punish me by not letting me eat for the entire day.

For three years, my knees were frequently bruised and bloodied, and I had exhausted every tear I possessed.

It turned out I hadn't been offering prayers to my daughter, but to a dog.

My stomach churned violently.

I collapsed onto the floor and opened my mouth.

"Blegh."

Amelia immediately covered her nose and took two disgusted steps backward.

Then she shouted dramatically, "Mrs. Garcia! Come clean this up! Damien is acting up again!"

She grabbed a tissue and carelessly wiped my mouth before taking me back to the second-floor bedroom.

After throwing me onto the bed, she turned and went into the bathroom.

I rolled off the bed and dragged my crippled legs with both hands as I slowly crawled toward the space beneath it.

From a narrow gap at the very back, I pulled out an old cell phone I had hidden there six months ago.

Hundreds of text messages flooded in instantly.

Every single one was from Liam.

In a photo, Liam was shirtless, pinning Amelia down on the deck of a luxury yacht.

The caption stated, [The yacht Amelia bought for me. You've probably never even seen one, cripple.]

The next photo was of the two of them wearing custom attire worth a fortune, kissing.]

[What an idiot. Amelia is about to transfer all of the Johnsons’ shares to Ben. Thanks to you and the death of your entire family, my son and I are set.]

I recalled three years ago when I ignored the pain in my stomach and stayed awake for three consecutive nights helping Amelia write the proposal that secured the multibillion-dollar project.

On the night of the celebration banquet, she handed me a bowl of oatmeal.

She said the company was still in its early stages and that we needed to learn to live frugally.

Then I looked at the final message on the phone.

Liam had suddenly sent a voice recording.

I tapped it open.

"I hired the guy who smashed your head. Amelia made you pray to my dog every day because she wanted to vent my anger. Watching you crawl on the floor like a dog was the most satisfying thing ever. Hahaha..."

I turned off the phone before raising my head and stared at the calendar on the wall.

Three days later would be my wedding anniversary with Amelia.

It would also be the day she planned to use my shares to hold the wedding of the century with Liam.

I pulled out my backup phone and dialed a hidden overseas number.

"It's me.

"Prepare to receive me. In three days, I want the Morgans gone."

That afternoon, Amelia pushed my wheelchair into the backyard of the Morgan estate.

Today was Amelia's grandfather, Noah Morgan's eightieth birthday celebration.

He sat in a large armchair, holding Amelia and Liam's son, Ben, in his arms. The wrinkles on his face deepened as he smiled.

"Oh, my precious grandson! So smart!"

Amelia pushed me closer, and the smile on Noah's face instantly disappeared.

Dressed in a custom-tailored suit, Liam immediately stepped forward and patted Noah's chest.

"Grandpa, don't be upset. Damien isn't in good health, and he's not right in the head. Everyone should be a little more understanding."

Noah let out a cold snort and jabbed the tip of his cane at the wheel of my wheelchair.

"Understanding? He's a jinx who brought ruin to his entire family! Just looking at him is bad luck!"

I stared at Noah's harsh face.

Then I grabbed a set of glass cups from the table and smashed them onto the ground.

Crash!

Fragments scattered everywhere.

Pointing at Noah, I shouted at the top of my lungs, "Blood! Take my blood! The old man is dying! Take my blood and save him!"

The area instantly fell silent.

Five years ago, Noah suffered massive blood loss during surgery for kidney failure.

Ignoring my weakened condition, I donated a full 800cc of blood and pulled him back from death's door.

Doing so nearly cost me my life.

Noah flew into a rage. He jumped to his feet and pointed at my nose as he cursed.

"You lunatic! What nonsense are you talking about? Your blood is filthy! Draining it all was a blessing that let you climb into the Morgans!"

I turned to look at Amelia.

She wasn't looking at me at all.

Instead, she was sitting on a sofa, perched on Liam's lap.

Peeling a grape with her fingers, she fed it into Liam's mouth.

After he finished eating it, Amelia pulled out a wet wipe and cleaned her hands. Then she casually waved to the bodyguards.

"Push Damien farther away. Don't let him disturb Grandpa or the guests."

The bodyguards immediately stepped forward and roughly dragged my wheelchair backward.

Holding their wine glasses, the guests pointed and whispered without restraint.

"See that? The former business genius is nothing more than a drooling cripple now."

"Ms. Morgan has already done more than enough for him. Besides, she and Liam already have a child. He's the real son-in-law."

I wiped the moisture from my face.

Using my hands, I turned the wheels myself and slowly rolled toward the back garden.

After passing along a stone path, I stopped outside a huge glass greenhouse.

The lights inside were off, but by the moonlight, I could see everything clearly.

Amelia was straddling Liam's lap, and the two of them were tangled together.

Liam gripped her waist with both hands.

"Honey, does it feel good?"

Breathing heavily, Amelia covered his mouth with her hand.

"Keep your voice down. What if that idiot comes looking for us..."

Then she turned her head.

Her gaze passed through the transparent glass and met my eyes.

Liam followed her line of sight and looked over.

Not only did he not stop, but he deliberately moved closer to her.

Looking directly at me, he exaggerated each word with his lips.

"Cripple."

A twisted excitement flashed through Amelia's eyes.

Without the slightest hesitation, she turned around and let Liam press her against the glass.

Dull thuds echoed through the greenhouse.

I watched the shameless scene before me.

Expressionless, I turned my wheelchair away.

‘Since everything had been my own wishful thinking and the two of you were worse than animals, I'll give you exactly what you want.’

I wheeled myself into the most secluded corner of the garden.

From inside my sleeve, I pulled out a photograph.

In the picture, my sister wore a ponytail and smiled brightly.

Now, she was locked behind the iron doors of a psychiatric hospital, injected with large doses of sedatives every day.

Tears burst from my eyes.