Drowning in Misguided Love

I never imagined that someone like me, who always cared about how I looked, would die in such a wretched, hideous way.

After the kidnappers brutally tortured me, they tossed me by the seaside, letting the freezing waves wash over my body again and again.

Blood gushed from my wounds, staining the water around me.

Sven Guerrero was completely consumed with Alina Leclair. He didn't spare a single thought about me.

By the time I was brought to the hospital, all the blood had drained from my body, and my legs were shattered like those of a broken doll.

The doctors and nurses looked at me as if they'd never seen such a tragic patient. Faced with my ravaged body, they didn't even know where to begin.

One nurse quietly suggested, "Should we call Dr. Guerrero? He's a brilliant surgeon. Maybe the patient can still be saved."

Another nurse immediately countered, "Dr. Guerrero is busy saving his childhood sweetheart. How could he leave the woman he loves to help a stranger?"

But I wasn't a stranger. I was his wife.

Perhaps due to resentment, my soul floated above and drifted in the air, unable to move on.

I stared at my disfigured body and was unsure of what to do.

Then, I heard a familiar voice. A powerful force yanked my soul away, and I was suddenly standing in the treatment room, watching Sven and Alina.

Alina lay on the bed, while Sven, dressed in a white coat, was carefully stitching up her wound. The injury wasn't even that serious. Sven was overreacting.

But in his eyes, I saw worry and fear.

"Alina, don't be afraid. I promise you won't have any scars," he reassured her.

After bandaging Alina up, Sven transferred her to a regular ward. When they were alone, he gently kissed her forehead with a tenderness I had never seen before.

A nurse came in to disinfect Alina's wound. She glanced at Sven as she worked.

"It's so unfair, really. Both were kidnapped, yet Ms. Leclair was lucky to survive thanks to your care, whereas that other woman who came in around the same time—"

Sven cut her off sharply. "Don't talk about the kidnapping in front of Alina. It'll affect her recovery."

He knew the nurse was talking about me, but he didn't want to hear about it.

The nurse looked at Alina, who was still sound asleep, and nodded.

I couldn't help but laugh bitterly. Sven cared for Alina so deeply. He was worried that a scar would ruin her modeling career and afraid she'd have lasting trauma from the kidnapping.

Conversely, he couldn't care less about what happened to me.

Of course, it made sense. He despised me after all.

When Sven had arrived with the ransom to save Alina, I had crawled toward him with every bit of strength I had left and begged him to save me and the baby in my womb.

He had merely cast a disgusted glance my way and, with mercy, called 911.

"Tracy Leclair, you're rotten to the core. You'd even make up a pregnancy to try and survive. It's sickening. You're the reason Alina got kidnapped in the first place. I'll never forgive you.

"I've repaid my debt to you for saving my life. Come by the hospital later to sign the divorce papers."

After that, Sven had held the terrified, sobbing Alina in his arms, climbed into the ambulance, and insisted they take her to the hospital first.

As the ambulance doors were about to close, I had still been desperately crawling toward the shore.

The wind at the seaside had been freezing, and blood poured from my body. The rising tide had been moments away from swallowing me whole.