The Simpson family hated me. They wanted him to marry Lilith—the perfect daughter from their elite circle. But he fought. He endured imprisonment, exile, even gave up his status as heir, just to marry me.
Finally, after all the struggle, they relented. We married. I thought that was the end of our battles. I thought we were untouchable. I thought we would grow old together.
Then Lilith returned. Spoiled, arrogant… and he treated her as if she were his responsibility. Her work, her failures, her surgeries—he handled them all. He chauffeured her, tended to her, cared for her more than me. One day, without even asking, he brought her into our home, put her in a guest room…
That day I realized the truth. I was no longer his choice. I was just his wife on paper. Lilith… Lilith had been his choice all along.
When the phone was pressed into my hands, they shook so violently I could barely hold it. Thorne, without a word, reached out and wiped my tears away, then opened the recording app and even pressed the button for me, making the video himself.
Thirty seconds. That was all I had. I stammered through my lines, declaring I wouldn’t hold anyone accountable, that everything was merely an accident. When I handed the phone back, my voice was weak as I asked, “Can we… finally operate on my father now?”
He looked at me for a long moment before nodding. “Go ahead…” he said.
But before I could even process the word, a scream pierced the air from the operating room. “Ah! My head… I feel so dizzy!” Lilith collapsed, utterly helpless.
Thorne’s composure shattered instantly. He dashed toward her, lifting her into his arms as if the world depended on her alone. The doctors followed, leaving my father unmoved on the bed, alarms wailing around him. I screamed, “No! Save my dad! Please, Thorne, you promised!”
I tried to block him, but he didn’t even glance at me. His eyes were locked on Lilith. He shoved past me, running toward her bed with the doctors at his heels. Their frantic steps echoed in my chest, but the weight of my fear stole the words from my throat.
I was too late.
I clutched at his legs, begging him to turn back, but he shoved me aside with such force I stumbled and hit the wall. My vision caught my father lying helpless, and it felt as though my heart had been ripped from my chest.
“Dad! Dad!” I cried. But Thorne’s voice cut through everything.