The Comatose Man I Married Pulled Me Out of Hell

Kelsey's POV

A month before the wedding, my mother asked me to pretend to be my younger sister, Belinda Ferguson, to lure out a stalker. She promised I’d be safe.

But she broke that promise.

When I was dragged into a nightmare by that man and begged Francis Tomlinson for help, he ignored my calls and moved into our new house with Belinda.

I came home bruised and bleeding, but he didn’t even glance at my injuries. Instead, he looked at me with nothing but disgust and instructed, “Belinda’s pregnant. She needs peace and quiet, so move out of the master bedroom. From now on, you’ll cook three meals a day at home. Here’s the menu. Whatever Belinda wants, you cook it. After all, cooking is probably the only thing you’re good at.”

I froze, my mind going completely blank. “What… did you just say?”

Francis frowned, clearly annoyed. “You’re just an adopted daughter. And you can’t even have children. Belinda’s safety matters more. So yeah, sacrifice a little. It’s not like pretending to seduce a stalker would get you pregnant anyway.”

He didn’t notice how pale I’d gone nor the medical documents lying on the table, proving the "infertility" was a misdiagnosis, and the other confirming a successful operation to fix it.

Completely crushed, I called my father. “I’ve lost, Dad. I’ll marry that comatose rich man. We’ll hold the wedding next month.”

His voice was raspy as he spoke coldly after a pause, “Glad you’ve come to your senses. Ross may be a vegetable, but your zodiac signs are perfectly compatible. Luck might strike you two, and your wedding would wake him up.”

Tears slid down my cheeks, bitter and salty, slipping into the corners of my mouth.

My throat burned as I forced out the words, “Got it.”

Right after I hung up, Francis burst into the room, looking grim.

He tossed a set of keys onto the bed and said flatly, “Here’s the car key and tonight’s dinner list. Remember, Belinda doesn’t like cilantro, carrots, or bell peppers, and she’s allergic to yams.”

I clutched my throbbing arm, my forehead dripping with cold sweat. Staring at the keys on the bed, I felt a sting in my chest.

Three years of dating, and he couldn’t even remember what I liked to eat.

Listening to him list all of Belinda’s preferences like they were etched in stone, I couldn’t help but ask, “Do you even remember what I like?”

He clearly wasn’t expecting that question. He paused, then frowned with irritation. “What kind of question is that? Don’t be petty. We’re talking about Belinda here. She’s carrying my child. Shouldn’t I be paying attention to her?”

Then, without missing a beat, he added with a scolding tone, “You were supposed to lure that psycho, and you still failed. What, did you want your sister to get hurt instead?”

I stared at him in disbelief. My heart was pounding from the anger boiling inside me.

“I called you for help. But where were you? None of you cared whatever happened to me. You said you’d protect me, what happened to that?”

At that, he was left speechless. He just stood there, scowling, before snapping again, “Well, you’re back safe, aren’t you? Why are you being so aggressive? Since you’re so useless, the least you can do is cook. Go buy the groceries already!”

Then came Belinda’s sugary voice behind him.

“Francis, don’t be so harsh. She’ll feel bad if I make her cook for me. Why don’t you come with me to the supermarket instead? It’ll be a nice little walk.”

She held her belly, which was barely showing, and walked over to him with a coy smile, brushing her chest against his arm like I wasn’t even there.

Francis glanced at me, then immediately softened his tone for her. “Alright. If that’s what you want, I’ll go with you.”

As soon as they walked out the door, my mother walked in, arms full of fruit and tonics.

She saw the first aid kit in my hands but didn’t even blink.

After setting down the supplies, she walked into the bedroom and slapped me hard across the face.

“Kelsey! Is it true that Belinda was stalked because of you? I told you to lure the stalker! How did you come back without a scratch?!”