I had been married to Lydia Hale for five years, and she had never respected me. Worse, she and her golden boy, Caleb Monroe, framed me, leading to a brutal beating that landed me in the hospital. She even walked into the operating room in front of me to terminate our child—just because she couldn’t stand the idea of having a baby with my genes. My sister, Victoria Sterling, also believed Caleb’s lies and grew to despise me. The worst part? They conspired to send me to prison in Caleb’s place. I endured hell in Blackstone Correctional Facility, and when I finally decided to give up on all of them, they started to regret it. Content When Lydia came to pick me up, I was still in Warden Gregory Maddox’s office, enduring one of his punishments. He had me on my knees as he lashed my back with a whip. “Warden, Prisoner #8074’s family is here,” Officer Adam Carter announced from the doorway. Maddox paused, setting the whip aside. He glared down at me. “#8074, you know what to say and what not to say once you’re out, don’t you?” Trembling, I nodded. “I… I understand.” Satisfied with my submission, he nodded and grabbed the paperwork Adam handed him. “Sign this,” he barked. I took the pen with shaky hands and scrawled my name—Ryan Sterling. It had been so long since anyone had called me by my name that I hesitated before writing it. Maddox walked me to the prison gates himself, a clear threat lingering in the gesture. Outside, the blinding sunlight burned my eyes. As I adjusted, I saw her standing next to a luxury car, stunning as ever—my wife, Lydia Hale. The same woman who had orchestrated my imprisonment. And not just her. My sister, Victoria Sterling—the sibling I had vowed to protect—had been complicit. The two women I loved most had worked together to send me to hell. “Ryan Sterling, what are you dawdling for?” Lydia snapped, her tone dripping with impatience. Reluctantly, I picked up my meager belongings and approached her. But the closer I got, the more revolted I felt. A wave of nausea hit me, and I doubled over, retching dryly. I hadn’t eaten in a day; there was nothing to vomit. Lydia didn’t even feign concern. Instead, she sneered, “What, playing the sympathy card again? You’re disgusting. Is that all you know how to do?” Straightening up, I caught her gaze—cold, disdainful, as though I were nothing more than dirt beneath her designer heels. Before I went to prison, Lydia had been pregnant with my child. She took me to Memorial General Hospital and, without a shred of hesitation, entered the operating room. When she emerged, the baby was gone. I’ll never forget the first thing she said to me after. “Ryan Sterling, you’re so vile that just carrying your child made me sick. Now that it’s gone, I feel lighter.” With one callous remark, she killed our child. “What are you staring at now?” Lydia’s voice jolted me back to reality. “Hurry up and get in the car. We don’t want Caleb waiting too long,” she added. The mention of Caleb Monroe sent a sharp pang through my chest. If not for him, I wouldn’t have ended up like this. Lydia tried to grab my bag, but I yanked it away instinctively. “No… I can handle it myself.” She raised an eyebrow. “Prison taught you some independence, I see. Good. At least it cured you of your spoiled brat tendencies.” Her words were absurdly amusing. Prison had taught me independence? It was Caleb’s drunk driving that had caused a fatal accident. Lydia and Victoria couldn’t bear the thought of him in prison, so they framed me instead. In Blackstone Correctional Facility, I experienced horrors beyond comprehension. When I first arrived, Maddox had me placed in solitary confinement. For a moment, I thought Lydia had bribed him to give me better accommodations. But I soon realized his “special attention” was anything but kind. On my first day, I noticed a group of inmates ganging up on others. Naively, I reported it to Maddox. That night, I was dragged into a secret room filled with torture devices. They stripped me to the waist, tied me to a beam, and lashed my back until it was raw and bleeding. I passed out from the pain, but they revived me with a bucket of saltwater poured over my wounds. The agony was indescribable. When they’d had their fill, they tossed me into the same cell as the bullies I’d reported. Those men tortured me all night. Later, I learned they had bribed Maddox for protection, and I had crossed the wrong people.
After that, Warden Gregory Maddox seemed to take pleasure in finding new ways to torment me. In the dead of winter, during one of Blackstone’s infamous blizzards, he dragged me out of the prison unnoticed. He stripped me down to nothing, threw me into the snow, and ordered me to crawl forward on my knees, shouting, “I’m nothing but scum! I don’t deserve Lydia Hale!” Another time, he used a medieval-style hand press on me, forcing my fingers apart until the bones cracked. My hands became limp, useless appendages that could no longer hold anything, let alone a melody on the piano. Every time he tortured me, my screams were so guttural they shredded my vocal cords. My voice, once clear and resonant, was now a hoarse rasp. They even jammed a sharp object into my right ear, rupturing my eardrum. All I could hear on that side was a faint, distorted hum. But I was a pianist. My hands and my ears were my life. And in Blackstone, both were destroyed. “#8074,” Maddox would sneer as he delivered another blow. “You’re nothing but trash. You tricked Lydia into marrying you, sabotaged Caleb Monroe, and almost drove him to suicide. Everything happening to you now is what you deserve.” “You should be grateful. Suffering here is your penance.” He repeated these words every day like a mantra, as if trying to make me believe them. Lydia drove silently, glancing at me with irritation when I didn’t respond. “What’s wrong with you now, Ryan? Gone mute?” I turned my head slightly, my right ear catching only fragments of her voice. I chuckled bitterly. Once, I would have talked endlessly around Lydia, eager for any acknowledgment, even if it was just a dismissive word. Now, my silence seemed to bother her more than my presence. “I didn’t want to irritate you,” I rasped, my voice barely audible and nothing like the way it used to sound. She seemed momentarily taken aback by my tone but quickly brushed it off, glaring at me. “Ryan Sterling, I’ve told you before—your pathetic tricks won’t work on me.” She thought I was playing the victim, trying to gain her sympathy. In the past, I might have tried to explain myself, but now, I didn’t see the point. The car pulled up to Sterling Manor in Manhattan’s gated community. Lydia parked and stepped out, motioning for me to follow. Before entering, she turned and said, “Caleb doesn’t know you went to prison for him. Don’t let anything slip. Understand?” I lifted my head to look at the house. This used to be my home, my sanctuary, the place where Lydia and I were supposed to build a life together. Now, it was someone else’s domain. And I was no longer welcome—not as a husband, not even as a human being. Caleb Monroe came out of the house, his face lighting up with a smile. “Ryan!” he called, hurrying toward me. “You’re finally back! All these years studying abroad, and you didn’t visit us once. We’ve missed you!” I stared at his face, familiar and repulsive. Did he really believe I didn’t know the truth? That I had spent three years in Blackstone for him? Impossible. I could still hear Maddox’s words, the ones I overheard during a rare moment of solitude: “Mr. Monroe says this one’s trash. Do whatever you want with him, but make it hurt. Your reward is guaranteed.” The bribes Caleb had paid ensured my suffering. During those three years, Lydia only visited me once. I’ll never forget that day. Desperation clung to me like a second skin as I picked up the phone in the visitation room. “Lydia,” I begged, my voice cracking, “Caleb bribed Maddox to hurt me. I’ve already taken the blame for him—why is he still doing this?” “Please,” I pleaded, my throat tightening. “I can’t take this anymore. Get me out of here.” She laughed—a cold, empty sound. “What blame? You caused the accident, Ryan.” Her next words plunged me into despair: “You’re still trying to frame Caleb? You’ll never change. Stay here and learn your lesson. I’ll have Maddox work on fixing your attitude.” I screamed after her, ripping at my vocal cords until the sound became a garbled mess. “Lydia, I’ll die in here!” She hung up, walking away without a backward glance. Maddox heard about my plea and made me pay. He tied me to a wooden pole in the isolation chamber, stripping my shirt off and whipping me with a spiked lash. The barbs cut deep into my skin, leaving long, jagged scars that bled profusely. I blacked out from the pain, but they brought me back with electric shocks. When I was conscious again, they made me repeat degrading phrases, calling myself a worthless wretch unworthy of Lydia. If I hesitated, they pressed a knife to my fingers. The first time, I resisted. But when they pressed harder, threatening to sever the tendons in my hands, I broke. “I’m nothing! I’m unworthy of Lydia Hale!” I screamed until my voice was raw. But they didn’t stop there. The knife came down anyway, slicing clean through my ring finger. I didn’t even have the strength to cry out. My pain was their entertainment. Before I passed out again, I heard their laughter and jeers. “This is what happens when you cross Mr. Monroe. You’re nothing but a pathetic excuse for a human being.”
I deserve to be punished. But never for offending Caleb. Rather, it was for loving Lydia. Seeing me dazed, Lydia slapped my arm in an unkind manner, trying to rouse my thoughts. But when I saw her raise her hand, I hurriedly squatted down and covered my head, “Don’t hit me… It’s me who did wrong… Please… Don’t hit me anymore…” Seeing me like this, Lydia was stumped in place. She seemed to notice something was wrong and hurriedly asked, “Ryan, what’s wrong with you.” Caleb changed his face and blocked in front of Lydia so that she couldn’t see me before pretending to be concerned about me, “Ryan, are you not feeling well somewhere, let me help you to rest inside.” When I heard Caleb’s fake concern, my stomach instantly retched and I reflexively pushed Caleb away. However, I hadn’t used much force, but Caleb cried out and then fell to the ground, looking at me with a soft look. Lydia instantly got angry and pushed me away, rushing to Caleb’s side, “Caleb, are you alright, are you hurt?” Caleb gripped Lydia’s hand tightly and put on a look that I was the one who was aggrieved and said, “It’s me who didn’t stand still, it’s none of Ryan’s business.” Lydia heard Caleb’s words, even more angry tilted his head to look at me: “Ryan, you have not yet entered the house you are so bullying Caleb, went to prison for so long actually have not learned a good lesson.” I didn’t dare to refute Lydia. But I was already well-behaved enough. Those inmates knew that the warden was targeting me, and made things even more difficult for me. They would beat me up in groups while I was working, throw all my food on the floor during meals, step on my back to make me lie down on the floor, and lick up the food like a dog. When I didn’t finish licking, they would step on my head and force me to finish licking. Then laugh as if I was their next meal. The warden and the other guards knew about it, but no one came out to refute it. Oh, there was that too. There was a new guard who couldn’t stand to look at me and help me, but he ended up being taken by the warden to the small dark room and beaten half to death that day, and the next day he went to serve elsewhere. So no one dares to help me in this prison. They all bullied me. Some of them even got a reward from the prison warden for bullying me, which is why they are even more unrestrained. Lydia helped Caleb into the house. I hesitated outside the door for half a day, but still entered the house. It was winter now, and I was wearing thin clothes that didn’t fit the season, and it was really cold outside. Just as I entered the house, I could smell the smell of seafood emanating from the dining table. I resisted the urge to vomit and followed Lydia’s lead to the dining table. “Ryan, I remember you used to love seafood the most, I don’t know if you’ve changed in the few years you’ve been abroad.” Caleb said and put the seafood on the plate in my bowl. The fishy odor of the seafood rushed directly into my nose, causing my breath to stutter. Then it was those things in my stomach that were churning. I slammed my head down and grabbed the corner of the table to vomit. But it was still the same, there was nothing in my stomach in the first place, and now even if I wanted to vomit, I couldn’t get anything out. Caleb immediately said as if he felt sorry for me, ”Ryan, what’s wrong with you? Is it because the food I made is not to your liking? Or did you go abroad for so long and change your tastes, tell me and I’ll go and redo it for you.” Lydia pulled Caleb away and glared viciously at me, “Ryan, what tricks are you playing again? Caleb knew that you were coming back today and made your favorite meal early, how hard is it to make Caleb’s heart feel like this now.” I raised my eyes, and with tear-stained eyes, I saw Lydia’s undisguised hatred for me. But I didn’t ah. My stomach had already gone bad a long time ago. After I asked Lydia for help that time, the prison warden had locked me in a small dark room where I couldn’t reach my fingers after torturing me in order to punish me. For three whole days I didn’t eat a single meal or drink a single mouthful of water, just lying on the ground like that. It was as if I was waiting for my death. Until I was about to starve to death, the door of the small dark room was opened. The warden walked in with a bowl of stinking rice, and when he threw the bowl in front of me, the smell made my stomach instantly sick. He pressed my head and placed my mouth on that rancid rice and said mockingly, “You cheap bastard, you can only eat these dog’s rice know?” I tasted the rotten meat that no dog would eat, and it was so hard that I wanted to vomit. But I had to eat in order to stay alive. So I picked up the bowl and wolfed down all that rotten rice, as if I couldn’t taste them as long as I ate fast. But it was no use, the flavor spread from my five senses to my lungs, making my whole body want to vomit. “Look at 1931, you guys are like an animal, what a lowly person, just like that you still want to compete with Mr. Monroe for Miss Hale? What a fool’s dream.” “You natural born bitch, calling you a dog insults the dog, you don’t deserve Miss Hale at all.” “1931, you should be tortured in prison for robbing Mr. Monroe.” In the midst of their mockery, I spit out another stream of those things I had just eaten. After that, my stomach was bad. Never again could I smell these smelly things. Even just eating something good was unbearable.
Lydia grew angrier as she watched me, grabbing more seafood with her chopsticks and slamming it into my bowl. “Eat! Eat it all! Caleb worked hard to prepare this. You’re not allowed to waste a single bite.” Her tone left no room for argument. I grabbed the bowl with trembling hands, shoveling the food into my mouth as if by instinct. Years in Blackstone Correctional had trained me to obey commands without hesitation—disobedience only invited more pain. I ate mechanically, forcing the food down like a lifeless automaton. But my stomach couldn’t handle the rich, fishy flavor anymore. As soon as I swallowed, waves of nausea gripped me, and I began to gag uncontrollably, trying to keep the food down. It didn’t take long to finish what was on my plate, but the effort left me doubled over, pounding my chest in a futile attempt to ease the burning discomfort. Then, without warning, my body betrayed me. I retched violently, expelling everything I’d just eaten onto the floor. Lydia leapt back with a look of pure disgust, clutching her nose. “Ryan Sterling, what the hell are you doing?” Her disgust was palpable. I remembered she had a severe aversion to anything unclean. In a panic, I grabbed a rag and began scrubbing the floor with shaking hands, muttering under my breath. “I’m sorry… I did something wrong… Please don’t hit me… Please don’t hit me…” I repeated the words like a broken record, lost in the cycle of apology. Lydia noticed something was wrong, her brows knitting together as she hesitantly stepped closer. “Ryan? What’s wrong with you?” I recoiled from her approach, crouching defensively and clutching my head. “Stay away! I didn’t do anything wrong! Don’t hit me…” Her confusion deepened. “Who’s hitting you?” Caleb interjected, his voice slick with false concern. “Lydia, he’s clearly unwell and rambling nonsense. He’s been abroad, remember? No one’s hitting him.” Her initial suspicions faltered at his reassurance. Caleb was careful to keep her ignorant about what had really happened to me in Blackstone. She shook her head, brushing it off. “Caleb, call a doctor to take a look at him. I don’t want him dropping dead in my house—it’d be bad luck.” Caleb nodded quickly, dragging me upstairs to a bedroom. He locked the door behind him, leaving me alone. Lying on the bed, I took deep, gasping breaths of fresh air. The quiet and solitude were almost unbearable after so long. After calming down, I made my way to the bathroom, splashing cold water on my face. As I pulled off my gloves, I caught sight of my left hand—the missing tip of my ring finger a cruel reminder of the hell I’d endured. Even with prosthetics, my hands were ruined for music. My hearing was too damaged to feel the nuances of sound. The piano, my first love, was lost to me forever. I rinsed my face and returned to the room, staring at the closet. I began packing what little belonged to me, determined to leave this place—a house that had once been my home, but now felt like a stranger’s domain. Just as I zipped my bag shut, I heard a voice echo from downstairs. “Ryan Sterling, that little bastard, is back? Where is he?” The sound froze me in my tracks, my stomach tightening with dread. I recognized the voice.
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