My Wife Stole Everything, So I Took RevengeChapter 1
After my son was born, my health began to decline, sometimes so badly that I couldn’t even drag myself out of bed.
My wife knelt before me, her hands pressed together in desperation, begging me to let Silas Anderson join the household to help us stay afloat.
Not long after Silas moved in, my wife took our son and left, saying that farming wasn’t enough to survive. Her calls home grew sparse until, one day, they stopped altogether.
Left with no other option, I survived by selling my blood and scavenging for scraps.
Then, after what felt like an eternity, my wife finally returned, only to drag me straight to the hospital for our son’s bone marrow transplant.
“You’re a useless cripple anyway,” she spat. “Just think of it as doing your duty as a father!”
But years of malnutrition had worn me down and I had to stay in the hospital to recover before I could do anything for our son.
It was there, in that sterile room, that I overheard Silas complaining about the money being spent on me.
“What do you know? This money is for our son! Once the transplant’s done, we’ll just give this sickly waste an extra dose and send him off. Then, all his land will be ours!”
Fury tore through me and at that moment, I felt my heart give way.
When I opened my eyes again, I found myself back on the day Silas first arrived at my home.
This time, I would make these two scoundrels pay for their betrayal.
——
A sudden, burning itch crawled up my throat and the familiar taste of blood surged within me.
Coughing, it felt as though an invisible hand had gripped my insides and twisted them into a knot.
Before I could fully open my eyes, a sharp, desperate wail pierced my ears.
“Husband, you can’t die! If you leave me, how will we, just a poor widow and her orphaned child, survive?”
I glanced around at the dilapidated house and Amaris Camden, kneeling on the floor before me.
My breath came in ragged gasps and my vision blurred with darkness.
In my past life, Amaris had begged me to let Silas ‘help out’ at home, insisting she couldn’t support both me and the child alone.
But just before I died, I had learned the truth. My beloved wife had long been entangled with Silas.
That so-called ‘helping hand’ was a clever ploy to steal the land my father had left me.
“Once the transplant is done, we’ll just give this sickly waste a little extra dose.”