Chapter 3

Just then, Heather abruptly came in, prompting me to shove the phone into the nurse's pocket as quickly as I could.

Heather shot the nurse a look, which made the nurse hurry off.

Claire, who came in after Heather, questioned, "Christopher, what were you doing just now? You're about to marry Heather. If you dare mess around, I won't go easy on you."

I stayed silent. After Heather and Claire gave me some honey and lemon water, Claire suggested taking me out for a bit of fresh air.

Before I could even say anything, they exchanged a glance and wheeled me out without another word.

After the car stopped in front of a bar, they helped me into my wheelchair.

Unexpectedly, Heather said she had forgotten to bring my prescribed medicine, so they drove off without me, leaving me shivering in the cold wind alone.

That was when a group of women in their 50s or 60s appeared not far off. The one leading the group, a woman with a pitted face, strode toward me.

"Ladies, I found us a fine catch. Come check him out."

A lecherous-looking woman eyed me hungrily. "Look at all his injuries. Doesn't he look endearing with how pitiful and delicate he is? I've never had the chance to mess around with a disabled guy before."

They dragged me into the bar, shut the private room door, and began pouncing on me.

The pitted-faced woman started a live stream. "Everyone, check out this little thing. Isn't he pathetic?"

Several women started pulling at my shirt. I screamed for help, "Somebody help me! Is there no law left in this world?"

Someone smashed a bottle on my head. "Who said you could scream? Can you afford to handle the consequences of ruining my mood?"

As my shirt was ripped off, the wound on my stomach was exposed. The pitted-faced woman looked disappointed. "So not only is he a cripple, but he's also missing a kidney!

"He can't even be considered a man anymore. Ladies, what should we do with this useless thing?"

The viewers in the live stream continued to grow, clearly enjoying the spectacle. "Tie him up and make him crawl around like a dog."

"Since he's useless now, just throw him in the river. Seeing people like him pisses me off."

Right then, the door was kicked open. Narrowing my eyes to see better, I saw that it was Claire and Heather.

Heather ordered her bodyguards to subdue the women while Claire hurried to drape her coat over me.

Though the women were grabbed, they showed no fear at all. On the contrary, they looked completely at ease, like actors after "cut" was called.

As Claire wheeled me out, Heather said the women would be punished appropriately. But when I rolled the wheelchair back and peeked through the glass into the private room, I saw Heather handing them money.

My heart dropped, as if it had fallen into an icy abyss. So they had done all of this on purpose. They just wanted to rub salt into my wounds over and over again.

After returning to the hospital, I stared blankly at the ceiling, overwhelmed with despair. I refused to eat, acting like a living corpse.

Suddenly, the TV began reporting the news. "Famous racecar driver Christopher Bowman was spotted in a bar with several women in their 50s and 60s. He seemed to have a very messy private life."

Claire tried to turn it off, but switched it to a different channel that showed Samuel giving an interview.

He held up the trophy that should have been mine. "I earned this trophy on my own merit. Hard work always pays off."

As the TV abruptly turned off, I grew so mad that I passed out from overwhelming fury.

When I woke up groggily, I heard Claire worriedly say, "Christopher's already traumatized… If we keep ruining him like this, he'll never recover."

Heather spoke in a cold voice. "Breaking him mentally is exactly what I want to do. He must never pose a threat to Samuel, even if I have to take care of him for life. After all, Samuel saved our lives."

Pain shot through my waist when I heard that. They had no clue that if I hadn't taken action during that car accident, they wouldn't even be alive right now.