Chapter 3 No.3

The doctor, a middle-aged woman with kind eyes, stood beside me, her expression shifting from concern to determination as she glanced at the door.

"Mr. Carter," she began, her voice steady but firm, "after seeing your wife's injuries and the trauma she's endured, it's clear she was assaulted by at least four to five men. You cannot seriously believe she is pretending." Her words offered a flicker of hope amidst the chaos, but I could feel the weight of the situation pressing down on me.

As I looked up, expecting some form of understanding, Mr. Carter's face twisted in disbelief, his arrogance palpable. "I don't trust her who claims to have been assaulted," he spat, his voice dripping with disdain. "She must have seduced them; after all, she already did it once. How can I trust her now? I don't have time for her drama."

The doctor's expression hardened, but she pressed on, "Mr. Carter, your unborn child was lost due to this trauma. This is serious."

His response was cold, cutting through the air like a knife. "You brought this upon yourself, Charlotte " he said, his words laced with venom. "And I'm not going to pay her medical bills either. This is all just an act."

I felt my heart shatter at his cruel dismissal. How could he be so heartless? My mind raced with disbelief and despair. The doctor's gaze flickered between us, her frustration evident. She opened her mouth to protest, but Mr. Carter turned on his heel, striding out of the room without a backward glance, leaving me alone with my pain.

The day I got kidnapped, a few hours back, his eyes were blazing with anger. He didn't trust me; he thought I had been unfaithful. The words he spat were not his own but echoes of Anastasia's malicious whispers, planted in his mind like seeds of doubt. It was infuriating.

"Howard, you have to believe me! I've never-" I started, but he cut me off, his voice rising.

"Don't lie to me! I saw the pictures!" He threw a handful of photographs onto the table, each one a dagger to my heart. They depicted me with another man, laughing, carefree-moments taken out of context, twisted into something sinister.

The memory of that night two months ago flooded back. It was his birthday, a night I had hoped would mark a turning point for us. We had finally crossed a line that had felt insurmountable for so long. Howard had touched me with a tenderness I had longed for, igniting a spark of hope within me. I could still feel the warmth of his hands on my skin, the way he had looked into my eyes as if seeing me for the first time. That night was unforgettable; it was more than just physical-it was a connection I had yearned for during our three years of loveless marriage.

But now, that connection felt shattered. The anger in Howard's eyes was a mirror reflecting the pain in my heart. I remembered how he had made love to me that night, pouring out all his pent-up emotions. It was as if he had finally allowed himself to feel, to care, and I had thought it was the beginning of something beautiful between us.

But here we were, standing on the precipice of destruction.

"Howard, please! You have to listen to me!" I pleaded, desperation creeping into my voice. My heart raced as I searched his eyes for any sign of understanding.

"Why should I? You've betrayed me!" His words were like ice, cutting through my resolve, leaving me exposed and vulnerable.

I felt tears prick my eyes, the weight of his accusations pressing down on me. "I'm pregnant," I finally managed to say. For a fleeting second, I saw his eyes soften, a flicker of something that resembled hope. But it was quickly masked by a wave of anger.

Before I could process his reaction, he grabbed my hand and dragged me out of the room. "Howard, wait! Please!" I protested, stumbling to keep up with his furious pace. I caught a glimpse of his parents watching the scene unfold; their expressions were normal. Karla, his mother, was smiling-was she behind this? My heart sank further as I struggled against his grip, but he didn't stop.

We reached the estate's entrance, and he suddenly halted, throwing me to the ground. I was in disbelief that he could do this to me, his own wife. "Please listen to me," I begged, scrambling to my feet. "It's all planned! It's a lie! It's all your mother's and Anastasia's plan! It's all fake! I could never betray you. Trust me!"

"Trust you?" he shot back, his voice laced with venom. "Are those pictures fake? Is my mom lying, or is Anna lying? Anna is the one who took all those pictures! She tried to hide this, but I saw! She was trying to save you, and you're blaming her for what you did! You are nothing but a slut!"

His words struck me like a physical blow, and I felt the world around me blur. "Get out of this place right now! Don't dare step foot here again. I'll send you the divorce papers soon. I have no place for a cheater."

With that, he turned on his heel and walked back inside, leaving me standing there, stunned and shattered. The cool ground beneath me felt like a stark reminder of my reality, and I sank to my knees, the weight of his betrayal and my own heartbreak crashing down on me.

I wanted to scream, to make him understand, but the words caught in my throat. How could he believe them over me?

Anastasia walked toward me, her lips curling into a mocking smile that sent a chill down my spine. She settled herself on the floor beside me, her eyes glinting with cruel amusement. "Oh, poor baby. Now what will you do?" she taunted, leaning closer.

With a conspiratorial whisper, she continued, "I have a perfect place for you." Her breath was laced with malice as she leaned in even closer, her voice dripping with mockery. "My friend owns a brothel. You could give him good service." She chuckled, the sound sharp and piercing.

Fury surged through me, igniting a fire I thought had long been extinguished. "You... you ruined my life, and I will make you pay for this," I spat, my voice trembling with rage.

Her laughter only grew louder, echoing in the hollow space between us. She was the very definition of a cruel heart, relishing in my pain as if it were a delicious secret she alone could savor.

"Make me pay?" she repeated, amusement dancing in her eyes. "Oh, sweetie, you're in no position to make threats. You're the one on the ground."

As her laughter filled the air, I felt a mix of anger and despair. I knew I had to rise above her taunts, but in that moment, all I could do was stare into the abyss of her cruelty, realizing just how far she would go to see me suffer.