A nurse fished the phone from my pocket, scrolled to my contacts, and dialed the first number.
It rang. And rang. And rang.
Finally, he picked up.
"Hello, this is the hospital emergency room. Are you Ms. Perez's husband?"
"She's been in a serious car accident. Internal bleeding. She needs emergency surgery right now. Please come immediately—"
Ryan cut her off, his voice flat with irritation.
"Is this Noreen's latest stunt? Couldn't think of a better excuse, so she got herself hit by a car?"
"What, the drama this afternoon wasn't enough? Now she's pulling this at night?"
The doctor grabbed the phone. "Sir, this is not a joke! The patient's injuries are critical—life-threatening! We need family consent for surgery!"
Sandra's laughter tinkled in the background. "Ryan, who is it?"
"Noreen. Says she got hit by a car. Dying, apparently."
Sandra giggled. "Then let her die."
The doctor's voice rose. "Sir, please take this seriously! She genuinely needs surgery!"
Ryan scoffed. "Noreen, drop the act."
"You think this will make me feel guilty? It won't work."
"If you really got hit by a car, then your family must've done something terrible in a past life. Karma finally caught up. The Perez line deserves to end."
End.
Dad was dead. I had no siblings.
If I died too, the Perez family would be extinct.
"The patient is in critical condition! We've already called the police!"
Ryan didn't miss a beat. "Noreen, if you die, I hope you die fast and reincarnate faster."
Click.
The doctor stood frozen, the phone trembling in her grip.
They say when your heart dies, it stops hurting.
They're wrong. It still hurts.
"I'll sign... myself..."
And suddenly, I understood.
No one in this world was going to save me.
Except me.
During my entire hospital stay, Ryan never visited once.
He took Sandra to Iceland to see the Northern Lights. To the Maldives to wade through crystal waters.
He was busy making up for five years of what she'd missed.
The day I was discharged, my lawyer sent a message:
"Ms. Perez, the divorce petition has been filed."
"Additionally, we've obtained the video footage from your father's accident."
"The person who hit you has been arrested. They've confessed—Sandra Henson hired them."
I turned and looked one last time at the home I'd lived in for five years.
Then I signed the papers to sell it.
"Thank you for handling this case. I don't want any settlement. I want them to pay."