The plaster cast didn't just break—it crumbled, scattering white dust across the floor. Beneath it, my unhealed wounds tore open, fresh blood seeping through my clothes.

The people before me looked right through the gore.

Tiffany's voice, usually sweet, was now a serrated blade. "How can you be my mom when you're this vicious? All my classmates laugh at me. They say I have a monster for a mother. You're a disgrace!"

Adam didn't look at my bleeding leg. His gaze was fixed on my face, burning with disgust. "If you won't apologize, fine. But hurting Lola? Since when did you become such a rabid psycho?"

They flanked Lola, supporting her as if she were made of glass. The three of them looked like a perfect family portrait.

I was the one cheated on. Framed. Broken. Humiliated. Yet somehow, the arrow of guilt pointed at my chest.

Only after his tirade did Adam notice—my face drained white, my clothes dark with blood.

He stiffened, then moved to lift me back onto the bed.

Lola's hand shot out, grabbing his waist. She buried her face in his chest, eyes glistening. "Adam, didn't you promise to take me ring shopping? Please, let Layla come with us to choose one. You know you're clumsy with these things."

Adam glanced at me, then at the blood dripping onto the floor. He hesitated. "But she's injured. Maybe—"

"I'll go." I forced a smile that felt foreign on my face.

They both froze.

Adam's brow furrowed. "What game are you playing? Don't think I don't know you're just looking for another chance to bully Lola."

The smile stayed fixed. Inside, my heart turned to ice.

His first thought wasn't that I was bleeding out. It was that I—the cripple—might somehow hurt his precious mistress.

He dropped me onto the bed with zero tenderness, the impact jarring my spine, and turned to leave.

But Lola tugged his sleeve. "Adam, she doesn't look that sick. Let her come. If I'm in danger, I'll just scream for you."

I didn't even have a cane. I had to drag my shattered leg to the car.

Before we started the engine, I held out my hand. "Adam, let me see your phone."

Confusion flickered across his face, but he handed it over.

He hadn't changed the password. Still my birthday.

My fingers flew across the screen—locating his private files, attaching them to an email, hitting send. The moment the notification appeared, I deleted the evidence and handed it back.

The car pulled up to the luxury jewelry store.

As I climbed out, a hand shoved me hard from behind.

"Hurry up!" Lola hissed, low enough that only I could hear.

I stumbled. Hit the pavement hard. Knees scraped against sharp gravel. Fresh blood bloomed on my skin.

"Layla!" Lola shrieked, rushing over with practiced panic, helping me up while casting wide, fearful eyes at Adam. "It's all my fault! I'm so clumsy—I didn't see her fall."

Adam stepped forward, gently wiping a tear from Lola's cheek before glaring at me. "She wasn't watching where she was going. It's not your fault."

I bit my lip until I tasted iron. Silently, I limped after them into the store.

Adam was at the counter, card in hand, ready to buy Lola whatever she desired.

Glass shattered.

A man in a black mask crashed through the display window, wielding an axe. Before anyone could react, he lunged forward and pressed the blade against Lola's neck.

"Hand over a hundred million! Now! Or I carve her up right here!"

Behind him, several thugs circled, greedy eyes locking onto Adam's watch and wallet.

Lola screamed. "Adam! Save me!"

Adam's face went pale. He raised his hands, emptying his pockets, tossing his wallet onto the counter. "There's ninety million on those cards! Take it! Just let her go—I'll get the rest from the bank!"

The leader spat. "You think we're stupid? Let you go, cops show up in five minutes."

His gaze shifted. Landed on me. A predatory grin spread beneath his mask.

"Wait. This one's your wife, isn't she? The dignified Mrs. James." He licked his lips. "Always wondered what high-society women taste like."

The gang erupted into coarse laughter.

Adam looked at the axe against Lola's throat. Then at me.

Silence.

Then, without hesitation:

"Fine. Let Lola go. Take my wife. Do whatever you want with her."

My blood turned to ice.

Memories flashed—years ago, when Adam and I were nobodies running a street stall. We'd encountered thugs back then too. Adam had thrown himself in front of me, taking countless blows. Afterward, holding me with bloodshot eyes, he'd sworn an oath.

"I will never let anyone bully you in this lifetime."

The irony was bitter. Now, to save his mistress, he was feeding me to the wolves.

Before I could process the betrayal, Adam shoved me toward the criminals. Lola let out a theatrical sob, burrowing into his chest.

Rough hands grabbed me. Greasy palms roamed my skin.

"Adam!" I screamed, struggling. "Help me!"

He didn't look back. He was already walking away, shielding Lola while leaving me to hell.

Fabric ripped. My clothes were being torn to shreds.

Panic surged, but instinct took over. I clamped my teeth onto one man's forearm. He howled, his grip loosening.

I scrambled up and sprinted into the darkness, screaming for help. My old wounds tore open, blood soaking my skin, but I couldn't stop.

"Get her!"

Footsteps thundered behind me. I pushed faster, lungs burning.

My foot caught on a loose stone. I went down hard.

Before I could scramble up, searing agony exploded between my shoulder blades.

A sharp axe had buried itself in my back.

White-hot pain radiated through me. Something inside shattered—not bone, but hope. My heart finally died.

Sirens wailed in the distance. The attackers scattered.

Lying in my own blood, vision blurring, I fumbled for my phone. With trembling fingers, I uploaded every video file I'd prepared.

If I die, I'm taking you all with me.

Only when the screen flashed "Upload Complete" did I let my eyes close.

Adam walked a few paces before a chill crawled up his spine. He stopped, an inexplicable weight settling in his chest.

Lola tightened her grip on his arm. "Adam? Why are you stopping?"

He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Something feels off."

She wrapped her arms around his waist, her voice soft. "Don't worry. I arranged those people. Just a scare tactic to teach your wife a lesson." She looked up at him. "Don't you trust me?"

Adam considered her words. The logic seemed sound. Layla had been out of control lately; perhaps a fright was exactly what she needed.

"You're right," he muttered.

He turned and continued walking.

Neither noticed the tiny red light on the recording pen in Lola's pocket, blinking rhythmically, capturing every word.

That evening, a violent thunderstorm battered the city.

Lightning split the sky. Adam jerked awake, sweat clinging to his forehead.

He looked at the empty space beside him. The anxiety he'd suppressed returned with a vengeance.

His phone buzzed. His assistant.