Chapter 1

CINDY’S POV

“I became crippled because of you,” I whispered, voice trembling. “And now you have the guts to bring another woman into this house?”

Henry didn’t flinch.

He stood by the doorway in his perfectly tailored shirt, tall and broad-shouldered, looking all smug and vile.

One hand rested on Monica’s waist like she was some fragile trophy. Monica, with her fake blonde hair and perfectly arched brows, batted her lashes and clung to him like she might disappear if he let go.

He smirked. “You think I owe you forever just because you pushed me out of the way three years ago? Get over it, Cindy. That was pity, not love.”

My heart thudded like a war drum, so loud I could barely hear anything else.

Vivian, his mother, cold and wicked, snorted from behind him.

“Honestly, Cindy. You’ve milked that accident long enough. Maybe if you spent less time playing victim and more time acting like a real wife, he wouldn’t need Monica.”

“Real wife?” My voice cracked.

“I married into this family after saving your son’s life. I couldn’t walk since then. Your husband begged me to marry Henry because he was grateful that his son was still breathing.”

Henry scoffed. “My father was a sentimental fool.”

Wow.

The air left my lungs like someone had punched me.

“Your father was the only decent person in this family,” I said, my throat raw. “And the moment he died last year, you all changed. You, your mother, even Lydia.”

Lydia strutted down the stairs, twirling a strand of jet-black hair around her finger, gum popping in her mouth.

“You’re just jealous,” she sneered. “Henry finally has someone who looks like a woman and not a patient from a nursing home.”

Monica gave a tearful little gasp, tucking a piece of that too-blonde hair behind her ear.

“Maybe I should leave… I don’t want to come between you and your wife, Henry. Maybe… maybe I’ll just go…”

Henry turned to her, holding her gently like she was glass.

“No. You’re not going anywhere, baby. You’re the woman I really love. You always were.”

My chest twisted. My hands shook violently on the wheels of my chair. I couldn’t stop the tears spilling down my cheeks.

Because I loved him.

God help me, I loved him.

Even after everything.

“Oh, and in case you forgot,” Henry said sharply, “Monica is the one I loved before you limped into my life pretending to be a savior. She’s back now, and she’s staying.”

I almost laughed. Not because it was funny, but because it was sick.

That day, three years ago, I saw him walking, dazed, into traffic. I didn’t think. I threw myself forward, pushed him out of the way, and the truck hit me instead.

My legs were shattered, my spine cracked, and I spent months in recovery.

I didn’t even know him. Why couldn’t I just leave him? Why did I have to endanger my life to save a total stranger?

Later, I found out the truth. He had just been dumped by his ex, Monica. That heartbreak was what had him wandering the street like a man with nothing left to live for.

Gregory Callahan, his father, knelt at my bedside, grateful I had saved his only son’s life, and begged me to marry him. He swore Henry would love and treat me right and even had legal documents drawn up.

Henry could never divorce me. Only I had the right to end the marriage.

He did it to protect me.

I thought love would grow from gratitude.

I believed it.

And now?

“I should never have said yes,” I murmured.

Lydia rolled her eyes. “Then why are you still here? Why don’t you just file the damn divorce papers already?!”

Vivian stepped forward, her voice venomous.

“That’s right. If you’re tired of being here, just leave. No one’s stopping you.”

I met their stares, trying to hold myself together. My voice cracked.

“Your father was smart. He knew exactly what kind of son he had. That’s why he made sure Henry can never divorce me.”

Silence.

Then I added, through gritted teeth, “I know you want me out so bad. Don’t worry, I will leave. But not yet.”

Vivian slapped the table so hard it made me flinch.

“You little—”

“Mom, stop,” Henry muttered coldly. “Don’t waste your breath on her, she’s not worth it.”

My fingers clenched into a tight fist.

How dare him!

Lydia’s heel clicked loudly as she stepped closer.

“You’re pathetic. You’re doing all this just to stay relevant. But the truth is, you’re already nothing.”

She leaned in, voice dripping with venom.

“Once you leave my brother, no one will ever marry you. I’m very sure you bewitched my dad into forcing this marriage. Because look at you, crippled, ugly, and stricken with poverty. Without our family, you’re nothing. We’re tired of you. You’re a disgrace to us. Leave us alone.”

The words hit like knives. I gasped, just a small, broken sound, but it echoed louder than anything.

For a second, I couldn’t move. I just sat there, spine stiff, heart hollowed out.

Then I straightened my back the best I could, wiped the tears from my cheeks, and forced my voice to stay steady.

“Fine.”

I turned my chair, wheeling away from their smirking faces.

Vivian’s voice rang out like a final slap. “Go, then. You’re just an orphan with nothing. So you can go hang yourself for all we care.”

I didn’t stop.

Didn’t look back. I rolled into my room, the only space left in this mansion where I wasn’t openly humiliated.

The door clicked shut behind me.

I couldn’t breathe for a second. My shoulders shook. I buried my face in my hands and cried, gut-deep, soundless sobs.

My throat burned from holding it in.

I couldn’t believe it.

I, Cindy Virelli, heiress of Virelli Global Holdings and daughter of Leonardo Virelli, one of the top ten richest men in America, had reduced myself to this.

Since I was little, I had always hated the attention that came with being a billionaire’s daughter. I never had real people in my life.

That’s why, at eighteen, I left my father and younger brother, Alaric, behind in Washington and moved to Texas to live with my late mother’s mom, using the name Cindy Hart.

When she passed away on my twentieth birthday, Dad and Alaric begged me to return home and take my rightful place as heiress.

But I refused. I loved my low-key life.

Then, at twenty-three, the incident with Henry happened and somehow, I became emotionally attached to him.

I told my family I didn’t want them involved.

I chose this life, this man, thinking that love built from sacrifice would last longer than love built on luxury.

But now?

Now I was nothing but a crippled inconvenience they can’t wait to get rid of.

But I’m not leaving. Not yet.

Not until I make them crawl and tremble at my feet.

I grabbed my phone from the nightstand with trembling hands.

My heart thudded in my chest. I hadn’t spoken to him in months. I’d shut the door and vanished from their lives.

Now, I needed him.

I dialed the number and it rang once. Then—

“Hello?”

I swallowed the lump in my throat.

“Ric… it’s me. Cindy.”