Chapter 1 · He Lost Everything

My husband was driving his first love, Claire Bennett, to a seaside hotel when they got into a terrible crash.

The doctors said he had lost all feeling from the chest down and would spend the rest of his life in a wheelchair or hospital bed.

Claire escaped with barely a scratch, yet sobbed as if she were the real victim.

I stood in the ER hallway and laughed.

Because just thirty minutes earlier, I had hired a lawyer and prepared to use proof of his affair to leave him with nothing.

I never got the chance to use the evidence, and he ruined his own life first.

*****

When Edward woke up, the first words out of his mouth were, "Where's Claire? Is she alright?"

The room fell silent for a moment.

The doctor glanced at me and spoke softly, "Ms. Bennett just had some minor scrapes. They've already been taken care of."

Edward let out a sigh of relief, a faint smile appearing on his pale lips.

He still hadn't realized he'd lost all feeling from the chest down. He just stared at the ceiling, relief written all over his face.

"That's all that matters," he murmured.

I sat by the bed, my fingers slowly tracing over the medical report.

High-level paraplegia, just three words, printed in black and white—clear and final.

If this had happened before, I probably would've broken down right then and there, grabbing the doctor's sleeve and begging for another way, crying until I couldn't even stand.

But now, all I could think was karma had come for him.

Three hours ago, the traffic police called me, saying my husband's car had crashed into the guardrail on the mountain road and he'd been taken to the hospital.

When I got there, Claire was sitting at the entrance of the ER, a nurse supporting her, Edward's suit jacket draped over her shoulders, her whole body shaking as she sobbed.

When she saw me, she called out in a small voice, "Olivia."

Then she covered her mouth, and her tears fell even harder.

"Eddie only got hurt because he was trying to protect me. Please don't blame him, and don't blame me either. We just wanted to clear our heads for a while. He's had so much on his mind lately," she said.

With every word she spoke, she kept glancing over at the reporters.

She looked so pure, fragile, and kind that even the nurse handing her tissues couldn't help but look at her twice.

I ignored her.

I just stared at my phone.

The location records showed that before the accident, Eddie's destination was a romantic hotel in South Bay.

Claire made the reservation, and Eddie paid for it.

The room was an ocean-view suite with a round bed.

I'd just forwarded the screenshot to my lawyer when the surgery room lights went off.

The moment Edward was wheeled out, Claire practically threw herself at him, faster than I could even react.

"Eddie!" she cried out.

She was crying like her world was ending, but her left hand never let go of her brand-new limited-edition bag, making sure nobody messed up her precious new purse.

Now, he was awake.

He looked at me, and finally realized something was off. His brows furrowed.

"Olivia, why can't I feel my legs?" he asked.

I pushed the report right in front of him.

"Doctor says you're never getting out of that bed again," I said.

His face went pale.

At that moment, Claire pushed open the door, her eyes red from crying as she looked at him.

Edward reached out for her, trying to pull her closer.

"Claire, don't be scared. I'll take care of you," he said.

Claire froze in the doorway, her gaze dropping from his face to his unmoving legs under the covers.

Her lips trembled, and she took a half-step back.

Edward noticed her retreat.

The light in his eyes flickered, just for a moment.

Claire quickly forced out a few tears.

She clutched her wrist, her voice choked with tears. "Eddie, you need to focus on getting better. I'm still shaken up, and the doctor said I should go home and rest."

Edward froze. "You're leaving?"

Claire glanced at me, her voice timid. "Olivia's here to take care of you. It wouldn't be right for me to stay. There are already reporters outside. If they start making things up, it could hurt the Grant Group's stock price."

Wow, how thoughtful.

She tossed the whole patient-care thing right back at me, making herself look squeaky clean.

Edward was silent for a moment, then his tone softened. "Alright, you go home. My secondary card is with you. Buy whatever you want, don't hold back."

Claire's eyes lit up for a second, but then she shook her head, her eyes still red from crying.

"Me? Spend your money? No way," she said.

Just then, her phone buzzed in her bag.

The screen lit up, and a shopping app notification popped up: [Order shipped. Total: 33,300 dollars.]

I looked at her, and she looked at me.

The room was so quiet it was almost comical.

Edward didn't see it. He was still defending her. "Olivia, Claire's timid. Don't scare her."

I laughed. "I didn't say a word."

That familiar impatience flickered in his eyes.

"Honestly, your face is scary enough," he said.

Back then, hearing something like that would've left me feeling miserable all night.

But now, I found it funny.

His parents passed away early, and when he turned eighteen, he moved out of his relatives' place with just 1,000 dollars to his name.

I stuck with him through freezing nights in a basement with no heat, ate instant noodles twelve times a week, faked smiles for his clients, and helped him lug samples around in the pouring rain.

When his first attempt at raising funds failed, he drank so much he ended up with a bleeding ulcer, and I was the one who dragged him to the hospital.

When he finally scored his first ten-million-dollar deal, he hugged me and cried, promising he'd never let me down for the rest of his life.

But once the Grant Group took off and he moved into the top-floor office, he started complaining that I was too blunt, not gentle enough, and that I kept nitpicking the company's books.

Then Claire returned from abroad.

The first time they showed up together in a photo was at a charity gala.

He leaned in to help her with her necklace, looking at her with such tenderness, I barely recognized him.

I didn't cause any drama.

I hired a private investigator, checked his driving records, combed through the hotel logs, and went over every bank transfer.

I even had the divorce agreement drafted.

All I was waiting for was tomorrow, when my lawyer would file the paperwork and kick him and his beloved Claire out of my life for good.

But the day before the divorce papers could even be filed, he managed to turn himself into a cripple.

After Claire left, Edward finally started to panic.

He clutched my wrist, his fingers icy cold.

"Olivia, you know so many experts. There's gotta be something you can do, right?" he pleaded.

I lowered my gaze to him.

"The doctor already said everything there is to say," I replied.

"Impossible." Edward's voice shook. "When I had nothing, you were always by my side. Now it's just my legs. Can't you save me like you did before?"

I gently pulled my hand away.

"I'll get you a professional caregiver," I said.

He froze, his eyes going wide.

"What are you saying?" he stammered.

I smoothed out his blanket for him, my tone soft. "It means, starting today, you'll have to learn how to let others take care of you."

Chapter 1

My husband was driving his first love, Claire Bennett, to a seaside hotel when they got into a terrible crash.

The doctors said he had lost all feeling from the chest down and would spend the rest of his life in a wheelchair or hospital bed.

Claire escaped with barely a scratch, yet sobbed as if she were the real victim.

I stood in the ER hallway and laughed.

Because just thirty minutes earlier, I had hired a lawyer and prepared to use proof of his affair to leave him with nothing.

I never got the chance to use the evidence, and he ruined his own life first.

*****

When Edward woke up, the first words out of his mouth were, "Where's Claire? Is she alright?"

The room fell silent for a moment.

The doctor glanced at me and spoke softly, "Ms. Bennett just had some minor scrapes. They've already been taken care of."

Edward let out a sigh of relief, a faint smile appearing on his pale lips.

He still hadn't realized he'd lost all feeling from the chest down. He just stared at the ceiling, relief written all over his face.

"That's all that matters," he murmured.

I sat by the bed, my fingers slowly tracing over the medical report.

High-level paraplegia, just three words, printed in black and white—clear and final.

If this had happened before, I probably would've broken down right then and there, grabbing the doctor's sleeve and begging for another way, crying until I couldn't even stand.

But now, all I could think was karma had come for him.

Three hours ago, the traffic police called me, saying my husband's car had crashed into the guardrail on the mountain road and he'd been taken to the hospital.

When I got there, Claire was sitting at the entrance of the ER, a nurse supporting her, Edward's suit jacket draped over her shoulders, her whole body shaking as she sobbed.

When she saw me, she called out in a small voice, "Olivia."

Then she covered her mouth, and her tears fell even harder.

With every word she spoke, she kept glancing over at the reporters.

She looked so pure, fragile, and kind that even the nurse handing her tissues couldn't help but look at her twice.

I ignored her.

I just stared at my phone.

The location records showed that before the accident, Eddie's destination was a romantic hotel in South Bay.

Claire made the reservation, and Eddie paid for it.

The room was an ocean-view suite with a round bed.

I'd just forwarded the screenshot to my lawyer when the surgery room lights went off.

The moment Edward was wheeled out, Claire practically threw herself at him, faster than I could even react.

"Eddie!" she cried out.

She was crying like her world was ending, but her left hand never let go of her brand-new limited-edition bag, making sure nobody messed up her precious new purse.

Now, he was awake.

He looked at me, and finally realized something was off. His brows furrowed.

"Olivia, why can't I feel my legs?" he asked.

I pushed the report right in front of him.

"Doctor says you're never getting out of that bed again," I said.

His face went pale.

At that moment, Claire pushed open the door, her eyes red from crying as she looked at him.

Edward reached out for her, trying to pull her closer.

"Claire, don't be scared. I'll take care of you," he said.

Claire froze in the doorway, her gaze dropping from his face to his unmoving legs under the covers.

Her lips trembled, and she took a half-step back.

Edward noticed her retreat.

The light in his eyes flickered, just for a moment.

Claire quickly forced out a few tears.

She clutched her wrist, her voice choked with tears. "Eddie, you need to focus on getting better. I'm still shaken up, and the doctor said I should go home and rest."

Edward froze. "You're leaving?"

Wow, how thoughtful.

She tossed the whole patient-care thing right back at me, making herself look squeaky clean.

Edward was silent for a moment, then his tone softened. "Alright, you go home. My secondary card is with you. Buy whatever you want, don't hold back."

Claire's eyes lit up for a second, but then she shook her head, her eyes still red from crying.

"Me? Spend your money? No way," she said.

Just then, her phone buzzed in her bag.

The screen lit up, and a shopping app notification popped up: [Order shipped. Total: 33,300 dollars.]

I looked at her, and she looked at me.

The room was so quiet it was almost comical.

Edward didn't see it. He was still defending her. "Olivia, Claire's timid. Don't scare her."

I laughed. "I didn't say a word."

That familiar impatience flickered in his eyes.

"Honestly, your face is scary enough," he said.

Back then, hearing something like that would've left me feeling miserable all night.

But now, I found it funny.

His parents passed away early, and when he turned eighteen, he moved out of his relatives' place with just 1,000 dollars to his name.

I stuck with him through freezing nights in a basement with no heat, ate instant noodles twelve times a week, faked smiles for his clients, and helped him lug samples around in the pouring rain.

When his first attempt at raising funds failed, he drank so much he ended up with a bleeding ulcer, and I was the one who dragged him to the hospital.

When he finally scored his first ten-million-dollar deal, he hugged me and cried, promising he'd never let me down for the rest of his life.

But once the Grant Group took off and he moved into the top-floor office, he started complaining that I was too blunt, not gentle enough, and that I kept nitpicking the company's books.

Then Claire returned from abroad.

The first time they showed up together in a photo was at a charity gala.

He leaned in to help her with her necklace, looking at her with such tenderness, I barely recognized him.

I didn't cause any drama.

I hired a private investigator, checked his driving records, combed through the hotel logs, and went over every bank transfer.

I even had the divorce agreement drafted.

All I was waiting for was tomorrow, when my lawyer would file the paperwork and kick him and his beloved Claire out of my life for good.

But the day before the divorce papers could even be filed, he managed to turn himself into a cripple.

After Claire left, Edward finally started to panic.

He clutched my wrist, his fingers icy cold.

"Olivia, you know so many experts. There's gotta be something you can do, right?" he pleaded.

I lowered my gaze to him.

"The doctor already said everything there is to say," I replied.

"Impossible." Edward's voice shook. "When I had nothing, you were always by my side. Now it's just my legs. Can't you save me like you did before?"

I gently pulled my hand away.

"I'll get you a professional caregiver," I said.

He froze, his eyes going wide.

"What are you saying?" he stammered.

I smoothed out his blanket for him, my tone soft. "It means, starting today, you'll have to learn how to let others take care of you."