Chapter 3

That evening, I arrived at the hotel in my wheelchair.

"Wendy, it's been too long," Sylvia greeted me with a smile, gliding over in a custom white dress. Her skin glowed, and her eyes sparkled—she was clearly thriving.

How cruel the irony felt. The one who destroyed my life got to live a carefree life, with a man willing to clean up her mess and pay for her mistakes.

She looked satisfied with herself, her tone smug. "Did you enjoy those photos and videos I sent you lately?

"So what if you came back and got everything from the Foley family? You're still stuck in that wheelchair. That old fool can't shield you forever. And your precious fiancé? His heart belongs to me."

My hands tightened on the wheelchair's armrests until my knuckles turned white.

Sylvia leaned in close, smirking as she whispered in my ear, "Do you think Charlie can even stand to touch you when he knows you're a cripple?"

I fought to keep my voice steady despite the rage burning inside me. "So you lured me to that mountain and hit me with your car just to turn me into this?"

Sylvia let out a laugh, feigning innocence. "Don't make wild accusations if you don't have any proof."

She shoved me right into the grand ballroom. "You'll get to watch firsthand as your fiancé proposes to me with all the passion he once reserved for you."

As I took in the elegant guests, the lavish roses, and the floating balloons, my heart wasn't aching anymore. Instead, all I could feel was a twisted sense of irony.

There on the stage, Charlie went down on one knee in front of Sylvia, his eyes shining with emotion. "Sylvia, will you marry me?" he asked.

"Yes!" Sylvia cried out.

As they embraced passionately, Charlie's gaze suddenly found mine in the crowd. His face turned ghostly pale, and he abruptly pushed Sylvia aside.

"Wendy!" he called out, rushing toward me with a look of panic and something I couldn't quite place and didn't bother to understand.

"Police! Stay where you are!" A squad of officers in full uniform stormed into the ballroom, pinning Charlie to the ground.

The cheerful celebration fell into dead silence.

Charlie fought to raise his head, his gaze snagging on me as I approached in my wheelchair. Disbelief and panic flashed across his face.

His voice trembled as he asked, "Wendy, you already knew the truth?"

I glanced at the pathetic man before me, nodding with a mocking smile. "What do you think?

"But I really want to know why the man who's supposed to marry me was publicly proposing to the woman who tried to destroy me. Isn't that just the biggest joke?"

Charlie stiffened, panic flashing in his eyes as he scrambled to explain. "No, that's not it... You've got it all wrong."

Before he could finish, Sylvia's agonized scream cut through the air from behind him.

Charlie instinctively spun around, his eyes full of unmistakable concern.

Sylvia, already in handcuffs that chafed against her raw wrists, pleaded pitifully with Charlie. "Charlie, you told me she wouldn't press charges.

"It hurts so much. Please, Charlie, you have to help me."

When Charlie turned back to me, his eyes were bloodshot with desperation. "Wendy, why do you have to drag things out until we're all destroyed?

"Can't you think about what's best for you—for us and for your baby?

"If you insist on going through with this, don't expect me to claim that child as my own."

My hand drifted slowly across my flat, empty belly, my expression clouded with sadness.

I met Charlie's gaze, a bitter smirk on my lips. "There is no baby anymore, Charlie."

Charlie stood frozen for several seconds, stunned into silence. Then, he tore free from the officers and rushed straight at me.

Rage contorted his features. His face was pale, almost frightening.

I'd never seen him like this before.

Charlie gripped my wheelchair tightly, on the verge of falling apart as he demanded, "What are you talking about? What do you mean there is no baby?"

His bloodshot eyes locked with mine before dropping to my abdomen. "Wendy, where's our baby?" he asked sharply.

I stared right back, refusing to back down. With a cold, mocking laugh, I spat, "Our baby?"

The irony was almost laughable. Charlie had constantly used my pregnancy against my father and me, insisting that it was a child he never wanted.

But he suddenly pretended to care about the child I'd been carrying.

I glared at the beaded bracelet wrapped around his wrist, disgust curling in my stomach. "The baby's gone. I lost it weeks ago."

Charlie completely snapped at my words, practically shouting, "Who gave you the right? That was my child too!"

I found myself more confused and repulsed by the man before me. With a cold, biting laugh, I spat, "You said it was an unwanted kid, using it as a bargaining chip. What now? You suddenly develop fatherly feelings?"

My words hit Charlie like a physical blow. He stood frozen, unable to respond. He knew exactly how badly he'd messed up.

We stared each other down, the silence stretching on between us until the tension was almost suffocating.