he moment the wheels touched down in Germany, I exhaled a breath I didn’t know I’d been holding.
I was free. Not healed, not whole–but finally out of his reach.
As soon as I left the airport, I stepped into a kiosk, bought a new SIM card, and tossed the old one straight into the trash bin outside. No more calls. No more messages. No more Colton.
My hands trembled as I installed the new chip into my phone. A clean slate. A fresh number. A life far fromT the man who once swore to love me and chose to destroy me instead.
I hailed a cab and gave the driver the hospital address.
When I walked into the sterile room, my heart dropped. There he was–my baby brother- still and pale, tubes running from machines into his body. I stood at the door for a long moment before I took a slow step forward, then another, until I was finally at his side.
“Hey,” I whispered, voice tight. “It’s me.”
I took his cold hand in mine.
“I’m sorry,” I began. “For everything. I should’ve come sooner.”
Tears pricked at my eyes.
“I… I married the wrong man,” I whispered. “I thought he loved me. For a time, he did. At least, I think he did.”
I sat on the edge of the bed, stroking his hand with my thumb.
“Colton wasn’t always like this. In the beginning…” My voice drifted.
And for a moment, I wasn’t in this hospital room anymore. I was back in the tiny beach house he took me to on our first anniversary.
“Close your eyes,” Colton had said, holding my hand as he guided me onto the sand.
“What are you doing?” I laughed.
“Just trust me.”
When I opened them, there was a candlelit dinner on a blanket, a small cake with our initials carved on top, and the sound of waves crashing behind us.
“You did all this?” I’d asked, stunned.
Colton grinned. “I wanted you to have your moment. You’re my wife, Ellie. And I intend to love you better every year.”
My Husband Believed I Kidnapped His Mistress
1/3 29.3%
08:18 Sat, 24 May ĠES
Initials carved on top, and the sound of waves crashing behind us.
“You did all this?” I’d asked, stunned.
Colton grinned. “I wanted you to have your moment. You’re my wife, Ellie. And I intend to love you better every year.”
We danced barefoot in the sand that night, and for once in my life, I had believed in forever.
I snapped back to the present as a tear slipped down my cheek.
“I held onto that version of him for too long,” I whispered. “But he’s not that man anymore. And I can’t wait around, hoping he’ll come back.”
Just then, something twitched under my palm.
I sat up, breath hitching.
“Lucas?”
I stared at his hand.
“Lucas, are you–did you…?”
His fingers twitched again.
“Oh my God,” I gasped, standing quickly. “Doctor! Nurse!”
No one answered. I fumbled for the call button, but nothing lit up. I rushed into the hallway. and sprinted toward the front desk.
“Please! I think my brother is waking up–he moved!” I shouted.
The nurse looked alarmed. “We’ll alert the doctor right away.”
I turned to run back to his room–and that’s when it happened.
I collided hard into someone.
“I’m so sorry!” I said quickly, stumbling back.
But the man didn’t move. He simply caught my arm and steadied me.
When I looked up, my breath caught.
Dark eyes. Sharp jaw. Designer suit.
I knew that face. I had seen it countless times in newspapers, in magazines beside
Colton’s name. This was-
Sebastian Rhys. Billionaire. Tech mogul. Colton’s rival. His brows drew together slightly, as if he was trying to place me. But I couldn’t deal with this right now.
“I’m sorry,” I said again and rushed off.
Later that evening, the doctor confirmed what I already knew: Lucas was stable. They’d begin weaning him off the breathing machine, and soon, hopefully, he’d wake up fully.
I cried in relief. I spent the night in the chair beside his bed, holding his hand, whispering stories, begging him to wake up.
The next morning, I decided to take a walk. The hospital garden was quiet, filled with winter air and blooming snowdrops. My fingers were tucked into my sleeves as I wandered along
Chanter B
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08:19 Sat. 24 May
Later that evening, the doctor confirmed what I already knew: Lucas was stable. They’d begin weaning him off the breathing machine, and soon, hopefully, he’d wake up fully.
I cried in relief. I spent the night in the chair beside his bed, holding his hand, whispering stories, begging him to wake up.
The next morning, I decided to take a walk. The hospital garden was quiet, filled with winter air and blooming snowdrops. My fingers were tucked into my sleeves as I wandered along the stone path, finally breathing again.
And then I saw him. Sebastian.
He was leaning against the iron gate, a phone pressed to his ear. When he saw me, he straightened. I turned to walk past him, but he stepped forward–quick, confident, sure. “Wait,” he said, his voice deep and firm.
I hesitated.
He walked over, took my wrist gently, and turned me toward a man approaching behind him–an older gentleman in a tailored coat, leaning slightly on a cane.
“Grandfather,” Sebastian said smoothly, never taking his eyes off mine, “she is my wife.”
My lips parted.
What?
My heart thundered.
What was he saying?
His grip didn’t loosen.
And I could only stare at him, stunned, as the older man’s eyes widened with delight. “Your wife?” the man repeated. “Well, it’s about time.”
Sebastian gave me the faintest smirk.
