Chapter 3

"I want to go home... I want to go home..."

I wailed at the top of my lungs in the hospital room, throwing pillows and water cups onto the floor.

Amelia pushed the door open, and her brows instantly knitted together.

She hurried over and grabbed my flailing hands.

"Okay, okay. We're going home. I’ll take you home right now."

She knew very well that I was now an irrational madman.

To calm me down, she immediately had her assistant handle the discharge paperwork.

She helped me off the hospital bed and carried me all the way to the underground parking garage.

After settling me into the backseat of her black Maybach, she climbed in right beside me.

Inside the black Maybach, Amelia held me in her arms, her chin resting beside my ear.

"Damien, from now on, I'll be your legs. Wherever you want to go, I'll carry you there.

"For the rest of my life, I'll never let go of your hand."

I leaned against her chest and listened to her steady heartbeat.

So it seemed the heartbeat of a cold-blooded animal was no different from that of a normal person.

The car stopped in front of the Morgan estate.

Amelia carried me into the living room.

The moment I looked up, my gaze locked onto the object in the center of the room.

A portrait and an urn stood in the middle of the living room.

It was a Chihuahua Liam had raised.

Amelia placed me in a wheelchair and pushed me in front of it. Suddenly, she reached out and pressed down hard on the back of my neck.

"Kneel and pray, Damien."

Her voice was soft, but it carried an authority that could not be resisted.

Since my legs were completely useless, I fell straight out of the wheelchair and landed heavily on my knees before the dead dog's portrait.

Amelia crouched down and stroked my face.

"Our baby was lost due to premature illness. A priest said we need to pray for other living creatures so our baby's soul can rest in peace. Can you offer a few prayers for the dog?"

She looked at me gently.

"Why aren't you praying? Don't you want our baby to rest in peace?"

I stared at the dog's portrait.

For the past three years, every morning at six o'clock, Amelia had unfailingly woken me up and forced me to kneel here and pray.

She said it was to help our dead daughter pass on peacefully.

If my prayers weren't loud enough, she would punish me by not letting me eat for the entire day.

For three years, my knees were frequently bruised and bloodied, and I had exhausted every tear I possessed.

It turned out I hadn't been offering prayers to my daughter, but to a dog.

My stomach churned violently.

I collapsed onto the floor and opened my mouth.

"Blegh."

Amelia immediately covered her nose and took two disgusted steps backward.

Then she shouted dramatically, "Mrs. Garcia! Come clean this up! Damien is acting up again!"

She grabbed a tissue and carelessly wiped my mouth before taking me back to the second-floor bedroom.

After throwing me onto the bed, she turned and went into the bathroom.

I rolled off the bed and dragged my crippled legs with both hands as I slowly crawled toward the space beneath it.

From a narrow gap at the very back, I pulled out an old cell phone I had hidden there six months ago.

Hundreds of text messages flooded in instantly.

Every single one was from Liam.

In a photo, Liam was shirtless, pinning Amelia down on the deck of a luxury yacht.

The caption stated, [The yacht Amelia bought for me. You've probably never even seen one, cripple.]

The next photo was of the two of them wearing custom attire worth a fortune, kissing.]

[What an idiot. Amelia is about to transfer all of the Johnsons’ shares to Ben. Thanks to you and the death of your entire family, my son and I are set.]

I recalled three years ago when I ignored the pain in my stomach and stayed awake for three consecutive nights helping Amelia write the proposal that secured the multibillion-dollar project.

On the night of the celebration banquet, she handed me a bowl of oatmeal.

She said the company was still in its early stages and that we needed to learn to live frugally.

Then I looked at the final message on the phone.

Liam had suddenly sent a voice recording.

I tapped it open.

"I hired the guy who smashed your head. Amelia made you pray to my dog every day because she wanted to vent my anger. Watching you crawl on the floor like a dog was the most satisfying thing ever. Hahaha..."

I turned off the phone before raising my head and stared at the calendar on the wall.

Three days later would be my wedding anniversary with Amelia.

It would also be the day she planned to use my shares to hold the wedding of the century with Liam.

I pulled out my backup phone and dialed a hidden overseas number.

"It's me.

"Prepare to receive me. In three days, I want the Morgans gone."