Chapter 1

My husband, Calvin Fuller, missed the desperate call from his childhood friend, Sheena Miles, because he was by my side while I hemorrhaged after childbirth. By the time he realized it, it was too late—Sheena's delayed medical care left her permanently paralyzed from the waist down. For ten years, Calvin blamed me, resenting both me and our son, Harry Fuller, forcing me to serve Sheena as her caretaker. One morning, while driving Harry to school, we got into a horrific car accident. My legs were fractured, and Harry was rushed to clinging to life. When I begged Calvin on my knees to cover the medical bills, he just laughed in my face. He stomped on my broken legs and made me crawl to Sheena to lick her feet as an apology. Yet, even after I did, he used Harry's treatment money to buy her a designer purse instead. The moment I held Harry's lifeless body in my arms, it finally hit me that my marriage had been in ruins for years. And now, I was done. ... The car accident shattered both my legs, and I was covered in wounds. Meanwhile, Harry was wheeled straight into the ICU. His condition was critical. The moment I regained consciousness, a doctor came in with a bill and said, "You're Harry Fuller's legal guardian, right? His situation is extremely dangerous. The next surgery costs a lot—if you can't pay soon, we can't proceed." With shaking hands, I grabbed my cracked phone and dialed Calvin, but the voice on the other end was not his. A woman purred, "Josephine Lambert? Cal's… busy right now. Try again later." "I need to speak to him. It's an—" Before I could explain it was an emergency, a breathy moan cut through the line. "Mm—not so rough!" Then, the unmistakable sounds of them panting flooded the receiver. I froze. Before I could say a word, the line cut off. Then, I called again, and again over a dozen times, only to be met with cold rejection. Eventually, I heard that familiar mechanical voice. "The number you are trying to reach has been turned off." I lowered my head, and tears slipped from the tip of my nose and dripped onto the floor as I thought of Harry clinging to his life. In the past ten years, I had lost count of how many times I had seen them tangled up together. Every time I confronted him, Calvin would spit back, "If it weren't for you, Sheena wouldn't be like this. You owe her, and you're going to take care of her for the rest of your life." At first, I fought back—screamed, sobbed, threatened to leave. But over time, I just turned numb. I thought about leaving so many times, but whenever I thought of Harry's innocent face, I changed my mind. I just could not let him grow up in a broken home without a father. So, I swallowed it all—the humiliation, the pain—and served Sheena like a caretaker for ten whole years. Everyone treated me like the Fuller family's help, while they treated her like the real Mrs. Fuller. And now, with Harry's life on the line, Calvin could not even pretend to care. My grip tightened around the phone, shards of glass digging into my palm. My legs were bound with plasters and pins, and the pain in my legs was excruciating with every movement, but I did not care. Ignoring the doctors' protests, I grabbed my crutches and dragged myself out of the hospital. ... I rushed back home as fast as I could. There, I found Calvin sitting in the living room, and when he saw me limping in with crutches, his face twisted in disbelief. He mocked, "What kind of act are you pulling now? Faking an injury just to get out of taking care of Sheena?" "Cal, Harry's in the hospital. He was in a car crash, and he's in critical condition... I need a lot of money for his surgery." He froze for a second, like he had just heard the punchline to a joke. "Harry's in the hospital? Come on, stop messing around. His teacher literally just sent me a picture of him in class."