99 Acts of Revenge for Her Beloved

I caught a glimpse of Patricia Zeller through the crack in the door. At that moment, she was sitting on the bed. Her cheeks were flushed with color, looking nothing like someone who was supposed to be ill.

Meanwhile, her friends were chattering away, voices buzzing with excitement.

"Trish, remember freshman year? You paid someone to mess with Bradley, and he was ostracized by the entire class. He couldn't even go back to his dorm for a month," one of them said.

Another chimed in, "And during senior year, you had someone wipe his final project. That cost Paul Jenner his honors award. In the end, Bradley got jumped in an empty classroom and walked out with a broken arm.

"This one makes 93. Just six more times, and you'll have enough to put together a scrapbook of love letters for Warren. He'll be so moved by how far you've gone for him!"

A wave of nausea twisted in my gut. I had never imagined that the love I thought was meant to be was nothing but a carefully planned revenge.

Panicked, I turned to leave. But I was still too weak from surgery.

I stumbled and then collapsed to the floor, the impact ripping open my stitches. Blood soaked through my gown almost instantly.

I had never been in great health. The doctors had warned me again and again not to go through with the liver transplant.

But I had been desperate to help Patricia recover, so I ignored everything and went through with the surgery.

This was the hospital's most exclusive ICU ward, and the hallway had been cleared to give Patricia peace and quiet. There wasn't a soul in sight.

So, the sound of my fall immediately drew attention.

Patricia's expression changed the instant she saw me.

"Bradley? You just had surgery. What are you doing here?"

Before I could answer, she shoved the person next to her and barked, "Go help him! Get him over here and tend to his wound!"

At her command, everyone rushed over. Their hands fumbled as they tried to lift me. Then, they placed me beside her.

Patricia cupped my face, her expression full of concern. Reaching for the antiseptic on the table, she said softly, "The doctor's still finishing up the post-op. Let me clean the wound first, okay? He'll redo the bandage properly once he's done."

Her voice was as gentle as ever. And if I looked close enough, there was guilt and pity in her eyes. But I knew it was all just an act.

It wasn't until today that I finally learned the truth.

Patricia had turned me down for three years, then confessed the day after the college entrance exam scores were released. Turns out, she was just avenging her first love, Warren Reeves.

Yet, I had been stupid enough to believe my sincerity had finally gotten through to her. Even knowing she once loved Warren deeply, I still gave her everything I had.

I squeezed my eyes shut, gritting my teeth as the sharp pain from my reopened incision tore through me.

Right then, Patricia tore off the bandage and poured the antiseptic straight onto my wound.

The searing burn hit instantly. I screamed in pain before shoving her away on instinct.

Her lower back slammed into the bedrail, and she gasped. A beat later, she kicked me hard enough to send me tumbling off the bed.

I clutched my wound and writhed on the floor, groaning.

That was when the on-call doctor finally showed up. Seeing the state I was in, the staff rushed to examine me.

The moment he touched the corroded skin, the doctor's eyes widened in alarm. "What did you do to him? These are chemical burns from concentrated sodium hydroxide!"

"What?" Patricia gasped. "That's impossible!"

Right on cue, she put on a look of shock. Then, she turned to the table, her voice full of horror as she said, "I ordered antiseptic and disinfectant online. I just wanted to prevent infection after the surgery.

"When I saw Bradley bleeding, I panicked. I didn't even read the label…"

She turned to me quickly. "I'm so sorry, darling. This is all my fault. I hurt you again!"

After saying that, she started beating her chest like she was overwhelmed with guilt. But if she really cared about me, she wouldn't have kicked me off the bed like that.

I stayed silent as they lifted me onto the stretcher and wheeled me away.

While waiting for the elevator, I heard cheers erupt from Patricia's room.

One chirped, "Trish, you're a genius! You actually knew that dumbass Bradley would come check on you, and you switched the antiseptic with sodium hydroxide. That loser is probably going to have permanent scars!"

"Did you see the state he was in? He looked like some pathetic mess. I thought I'd die laughing!" another cackled.

My hands clenched into fists. I had known the truth deep down, but hearing it out loud still gutted me.

…

After the doctor left, I grabbed my phone and quickly booked a stay at a rehabilitation center.

Then, I dialed the number I knew all too well—the one overseas.

"Mom, I've made up my mind. I'm coming home."