Ever since they took my right leg, winter has felt like a physical enemy. The cold settles directly into my bone, a dull, aching reminder of what I lost. Because of this, every winter Adam would clear his schedule completely, turning down every board meeting and corporate retreat just to take me to a tropical island where the warmth could soothe my body. On the nights when the phantom limb pain grew so intense that I shook violently under the sheets, he would kneel by the bedside until dawn, pressing his lips to my jagged, ugly scar over and over, whispering promises that I was safe. Everyone in our social circle raved about how devoted Adam was, how incredibly loyal he remained to a woman who was no longer whole. And for a long time, I considered myself lucky. I had lost a leg, but in return, I had found a love that was absolute and tender. After all, three years ago, it was his childhood sweetheart who had snatched away my rescue rope on that freezing, snow-covered mountain in the Swiss Alps, leaving me to fall and ultimately forcing the surgeons to saw off my leg. Adam had held me and wept for a whole night in that sterile hospital room. The very next day, he cut off all credit lines to her family’s business, ruthlessly driving them into bankruptcy. After that, no one in New York’s high society dared to cross me. Until our fifth annual winter getaway. I woke up in the middle of the night, startled by a sudden, violent thunderstorm, and reached out only to find his side of the bed cold and empty. Propping myself up on my crutches, I quietly made my way out of our master suite. Through the crack of the half-open door of the adjacent guest room, I saw her—Scarlett. The girl who was supposed to be ruined and living on the streets. Adam was holding her close to his chest, stroking her hair with a tenderness that made my stomach turn. “Don’t be scared,” he murmured softly. “It’s just a little thunder.” Scarlett pouted, hitting his chest playfully. “You spend every single day with that pathetic cripple. I’m sick of hiding in the shadows!” Adam leaned down, gently kissing the tears from her cheeks. “Be good, sweetheart. Just bear with it a little longer. I’m staying with you tonight.” … Scarlett snuggled deeper into Adam’s chest, her manicured fingers toying with the buttons of his silk pajama shirt. Her voice was dripping with disgust. “Doesn’t it make you sick? Going to her room every single night just to kiss that ugly, severed stump?” Outside, the torrential rain lashed against the floor-to-ceiling windows, the deafening roar drowning out the sound of my ragged breathing. I should have turned around. I should have walked away. But my remaining foot felt as though it had been nailed to the floorboards. Adam let out a soft, low chuckle. “Charlotte is like a piece of shattered porcelain right now,” he said, his voice entirely devoid of the warmth he usually reserved for me. “If I don’t handle her with kid gloves, how else am I supposed to keep her quiet and compliant in that wheelchair?” Scarlett pouted. “But how much longer do you have to keep up this act?” “The Kingsley Foundation is going public next month. She’s our golden poster girl; we can’t afford a scandal before the IPO.” “But you’re dosing her with such heavy sedatives every single day. What if you kill her?” Adam’s voice remained cold and detached. “The doctor said it won’t kill her. It just ensures she sleeps soundly and stays out of the way.” I bit down hard on the back of my hand, my teeth sinking deep into my flesh. The metallic taste of blood quickly filled my mouth, but I didn’t let a single sound escape. Vitamins. That’s what he had called them. Two little white pills every night to “boost my immunity.” He had looked at me with such gentle eyes, cupping my cheek like I was a fragile child. “Be a good girl, Charlotte. Take these, and the pain will go away.” Three years ago, when I first woke up from the amputation surgery and saw the horrifying emptiness beneath my hospital gown, I had lost my mind. I threw tantrums, screaming, shattering every piece of medical equipment and glass within my reach. When Adam pushed the door open, I was holding a heavy ceramic lamp, ready to hurl it against the wall. Without a second thought, he fell to his knees right onto the sea of jagged glass. Blood immediately seeped through his trousers, dyeing his knees crimson, yet he seemed completely oblivious to the pain. He pulled me down into a fierce, desperate embrace, kissing my forehead over and over, his voice cracking. “Charlotte, from now on, I will be your right leg. I will never let you suffer again.” I had cried until my body went limp, collapsing into his arms, believing with every fiber of my being that no matter what storms lay ahead, this man would protect me. How pathetic. A wave of violent nausea surged up from my stomach. I slowly released my hand from my mouth, leaving a deep, purple ring of bruised teeth marks on my skin. Inside the room, Scarlett’s whiny voice drifted out again. “Then don’t leave tonight. She took her pills; she won’t wake up anyway.” Adam didn’t answer, but the rustle of sheets and Scarlett’s low, satisfied giggles spoke volumes. Outside, another clap of thunder shook the villa. I summoned every ounce of strength to steady the crutches under my arms, dragging my remaining leg as I retreated silently back into the pitch-black master bedroom. That night, I stared blankly at the ceiling, my eyes wide open. I listened to the muffled, agonizing sounds drifting from the next room until the first light of dawn broke through the clouds. In the morning, the storm still raged outside. The bedroom door clicked open quietly, and Adam walked in carrying a glass of warm water, his eyes filled with that same tender devotion I had trusted for years. “Morning, Charlotte. Are you awake?” He walked over, gently helping me sit up and placing a plush pillow behind my back. Then, he tapped two white pills from a bottle and held them out to my lips. “It rained hard last night. Your leg must be aching. Take your vitamins, sweetheart.” I stared at the two pills, motionless. A look of deep concern softened Adam’s features. “Come on, be good. The specialist prescribed these new vitamins specifically to help with the joint pain. You’ll feel much better once you take them.” I didn’t refuse. I opened my mouth, let him place the pills under my tongue, and took a sip of the water he held to my lips. “Good girl,” he murmured, smiling as he ran a hand through my hair. He turned around to pull open the heavy blackout curtains. The split second his back was turned, I tilted my head and spat the partially dissolved pills into my palm, curling my fingers into a tight fist. He paused halfway through drawing the curtains, as if sensing a shift in the air. “Charlotte? You’re unusually quiet today.” Adam turned around, his sharp gaze locking onto my face. Before I could react, he stepped forward, cupping his hand under my chin and forcing my face up. “Did you swallow them?” His eyes drilled into my lips. “Open up. Let me see.” My heart skipped a violent beat. Forcing my facial muscles to relax, I obediently opened my mouth, showing him a completely empty tongue. Adam stared intensely for two agonizing seconds before the suspicion in his eyes melted away. He let go of my chin, his thumb brushing my cheek with practiced affection. “Rest a little more. I’ll bring you some breakfast.” The moment the door clicked shut, I unfurled my sweaty palm. The chemical pills had already begun to turn chalky and melt against my skin. I popped open the small locket hanging around my neck, scraped the damp residue inside, and snapped it shut. When the storm finally cleared, the island was bathed in brilliant sunshine. Adam insisted the weather was too beautiful to waste and wheeled me down to the beach for some fresh air. The salty breeze whipped across my face, and as I watched the waves crash against the shore, my chest felt like a barren, frozen wasteland. “Thirsty? Let me grab you some fresh juice,” Adam said, positioning my wheelchair under the shade of a large umbrella before walking off toward the beachside bar. A few minutes later, a server in a crisp hotel uniform approached with a silver tray. She placed a tall glass on the small table next to me. “Your juice, Miss Kingsley.” At the sound of her voice, my entire body froze. I looked up. Scarlett was staring down at me, a smug, venomous smile playing on her lips. Adam, walking back from the bar, caught sight of her and his expression instantly darkened. He stormed over, stepping between us to shield me, and hissed in a low, furious whisper, “Who allowed you out here?” “What is she doing here?” I asked, my voice flat and icy. Scarlett’s reaction was seamless. Instantly, her eyes welled up with tears, sobbing softly. “Charlotte, please, I beg of you, just let me go!” She wept so pitifully that nearby resort guests began turning their heads to whisper. “Because of one word from you three years ago, my family lost everything! I’ve been stuck on this island scrubbing floors and serving tables just to survive. I know I made a mistake, but why won’t you let me live?” Every word was perfectly engineered to paint me as a cruel, vindictive heiress driving a poor, repentant girl to ruin. My body began to shake violently—a trauma response I couldn’t control. Adam noticed immediately. He dropped to one knee in front of my wheelchair, placing a comforting hand on my lap with just the right amount of pressure, exactly as he had done a thousand times over the last five years. “Charlotte,” he murmured quietly. “Take a deep breath. It’s okay. I’m right here.” I couldn’t speak. I could only stare at Scarlett. In my mind, the pristine beach dissolved, replaced by the howling winds of the Swiss Alps three years ago. The blizzard had been blinding. I was dangling over a precipice, my fingers turning blue as I desperately clawed at a slippery rock. Scarlett was standing right above me. She had looked down at me with a cold, malicious grin. Then, she raised her heavy snow boot and slammed it onto my frozen fingers. “Go to hell, Charlotte Kingsley.” For years, I had woken up in a cold sweat, haunted by that cruel sneer. Every time, Adam would pull me against his chest, kissing my hair, whispering, “It’s over, my love. It’s in the past. She paid for what she did.” So this was the price she paid. He had hidden her right under his nose, keeping her pampered and protected. A sudden, hot fury surged through my veins. I violently pushed Adam aside, forced myself up on my one good leg, and swung my arm, slapping Scarlett across the face with everything I had. The force of the blow snapped her head to the side. A trickle of blood appeared at the corner of her lip as she stared at me in absolute shock. The entire beach area fell dead silent. The fake tenderness in Adam’s eyes vanished in an instant. He stepped forward, pushing me back down into the wheelchair with a heavy hand, his brow furrowed in deep annoyance. “Have you lost your mind?” I looked up at him, my voice trembling. “I’m the one making a scene?” Adam let out a long sigh, his face a mask of disappointment. “She has suffered enough, Charlotte. She paid her dues. Look at yourself—bitter, cruel, vindictive. Don’t let your hatred turn you into an ugly, unrecognizable monster.” I stared at his handsome, hypocritical face. Three years ago, he swore on his life that he would make Scarlett suffer. Today, he was lecturing me for being monstrous. I didn’t argue. I silently brushed his hand off my shoulder, grabbed the wheels, and spun my chair around, pushing myself back toward the resort. Behind me, Scarlett’s whimpering voice carried over the sound of the ocean. “Adam, it hurts so bad…” followed by his quiet, soothing reply: “I know, baby. Let’s get you some ice.” I didn’t look back. I only felt that the warm tropical sun had never felt so freezing. By nightfall, a severe hurricane made landfall on the island. Howling winds slammed the rain against the glass panes, cutting off all ferry services and internet connection to the mainland. At two in the morning, I rolled off the bed, crashing hard onto the floor. Without the heavy sedatives in my system, a brutal wave of withdrawal symptoms coupled with phantom limb pain hit me all at once. The phantom stump of my right leg throbbed with a burning, white-hot agony that left me trembling. Cold sweat soaked through my silk nightgown. Desperate for a drink of water to soothe my parched throat, I reached for the glass pitcher on the nightstand, but my hands were shaking so violently that I knocked it to the floor. It shattered into a thousand pieces. Jagged shards sliced deep into my palms as I tried to crawl, blood pooling on the polished hardwood floor. Right then, the door swung open. Adam and Scarlett stood side-by-side in the doorway. They were wearing matching silk pajamas, their coordinated outfits looking like a cruel mockery in the dim light of the stormy night. Scarlett’s eyes lit up when she saw the bloody mess. She quickly hurried over, putting on a show. “Oh my goodness, Charlotte! What happened? Let me help you up!” She knelt down beside me, her voice dripping with mock concern. Seeing this, Adam turned and went back to the living room to find the first-aid kit. The absolute second his back was turned, the mask slipped. Scarlett reached out and grabbed the sensitive, scarred stump of my right leg, driving her sharp acrylic nails deep into the tender flesh. “You were so tough this afternoon, weren’t you?” she whispered in my ear, her voice venomous. “Look at you now, groveling on the floor. You’re nothing but a pathetic, crippled dog.” Pure survival instinct took over. I lashed out, shoving her away with all my remaining strength. “Get off me!” Scarlett let out a dramatic, piercing shriek and threw herself backward, landing directly in the pile of broken glass. Shards sliced into her forearm, and blood began to seep through her sleeve. Clutching her bleeding arm, she looked toward the door with tear-rimmed eyes. “Adam! It hurts so much…” Adam rushed back in with the medical kit. He didn’t even glance in my direction. He immediately dropped down, pulled Scarlett into his arms, and carefully inspected her bleeding arm with frantic worry. Once he was certain her wounds were shallow, he finally whipped his head around to glare at me. “I let it slide this afternoon because I thought you were just overwhelmed,” he spat, his voice trembling with a cold, controlled rage. “But she was trying to help you, and you pull a vicious stunt like this? Charlotte, when is your madness going to end?” Scarlett whimpered, trembling against his chest. “Adam, I’m terrified of her… What if she tries to hurt me again?” Adam’s gaze drifted down, landing coldly on my right leg. He released Scarlett and stepped toward me. “For your own safety—and everyone else’s—you need to calm down,” he said flatly. He reached down toward the harness of my prosthetic leg. My eyes went wide with sheer terror. I clawed at his hands, trying to shield my leg. “Adam! No! What are you doing? Let go of me!” Click. He stripped away my prosthetic leg without a shred of mercy. It was my last piece of dignity, and now he was tearing it away from me. I bit my lip until I tasted blood, my voice hoarse. “As soon as this storm passes, I’m going home.” Adam let out a soft, mocking laugh. “Go home? Charlotte, the accounts for your foundation were frozen yesterday. Tell me, who is left in your family to come and save you? You can’t even make it past that door on your own. Just be good and stay put.” With that, he wrapped an arm around Scarlett and walked out, locking the heavy bedroom door from the outside. Slumped on the floor amidst the bloody shards of glass, I stared at the closed door. After a long, deafening silence, a low laugh escaped my throat. I laughed until tears streamed down my face. I was an only child. When I was ten, feeling desperately lonely, I begged my parents to adopt an older brother for me. To make me happy, they brought home twelve-year-old Adam. He became the cherished eldest son of the Kingsley family, and eventually, the person I leaned on for everything. When my parents died in a tragic car accident and I lost my leg, the senior board members who held power in our family company were systematically ousted by Adam under various pretexts. “Charlotte, they’re greedy vultures trying to take advantage of you,” he had whispered, comforting me. “I’m only doing this to protect your inheritance.” How blind I had been. I couldn’t see the insatiable, predatory ambition hiding behind his protective facade. My family was gone, yes. But so what? I was still alive. And as long as I breathed, there was a way. By the next morning, the hurricane had weakened into a tropical depression. An urgent public relations crisis had apparently broken out at the corporate headquarters in New York, forcing Adam to head to the resort’s business center early to handle it. The lock on my door clicked open, and Scarlett strolled in. She walked over to the nightstand and lazily kicked over the fresh glass of water that had been kept just out of my reach. The water spilled across the floor. “Thirsty?” she sneered, looking down her nose at me. “Why don’t you lick it off the floor like the dog you are?” I didn’t give her the satisfaction of a reaction. I just stared at her, cold and unblinking. Scarlett took a step closer, letting out a sharp laugh. “You still think you’re the high-and-mighty Charlotte Kingsley, don’t you?” “Charlotte… do you still believe I was the one who caused your amputation?” My eyes narrowed, my posture instantly stiffening. Delighted by my sudden shock, her smile grew wider. “I was dangling halfway off that cliff myself. Where on earth would I have found the leverage to kick you off?” She leaned in close, whispering each syllable right into my ear. “It was Adam. He had someone partially cut your backup safety rope before we even started the climb.” My pupils dilated in sheer horror. “What a pathetic little heiress you are.” Scarlett smirked, savoring every second of my silent devastation. “Your parents’ fatal crash, your missing leg—it was all engineered by the loving big brother you trusted so blindly. You practically invited the devil into your home and let him destroy your entire family.” “You’re lying,” I choked out, my voice cracking. No matter how much Adam might have secretly resented me, my parents had given him a life of luxury and loved him as their own son. How could any human being be so cold-blooded? “If you want to drive a wedge between us, at least come up with a believable lie,” I sneered back, trying to steady my racing heart. “Believe what you want.” Scarlett shrugged, standing up and humming a light tune as she turned to leave. She was too blinded by her own smugness. She didn’t notice that during her dramatic display, a spare burner phone had slipped from her pocket. The moment she turned her back, I quietly swept it under the edge of my blanket. Late that night, another downpour began lashing the villa. When Adam opened the door, I was already tucked beneath the sheets. I kept my eyes closed, forcing my trembling body to lie perfectly still, feigning the deep, drug-induced sleep he expected. He walked to the edge of the bed and gently tucked the covers around me. A moment later, he quieted his footsteps and stepped out onto the covered balcony. He left the sliding glass door open just a crack. Through the whistling wind and rain, I could hear him speaking to his assistant on the phone. “I don’t care how much money that bastard in London wants! Keep his mouth shut!” Adam’s voice was stripped of its usual warmth, sounding sharp and venomous. The assistant on the other end must have voiced a concern, because Adam let out a cold, sharp laugh. “Greedy bastard.” “Remind him that he was the one who physically cut Charlotte’s rope on that mountain. I only funded it; his hands did the deed. If this gets out, I have a dozen ways to salvage my reputation. He won’t survive it. Tell him to think very carefully about his next move.” The call ended, leaving nothing but the sound of the storm outside. Inside the dark bedroom, I pressed both hands over my mouth, sobbing soundlessly as tears flooded my face. It was true. Every horrifying word of it. The man who had wept over my hospital bed, the man who swore to be my right leg, was the very monster who had orchestrated my fall. I had spent three years living inside a beautifully constructed lie, playing the grateful, fragile fool. But as the wave of grief washed over me, a strange, crystalline clarity settled in its place. Masked by a loud crack of thunder, I pulled Scarlett’s burner phone from beneath the mattress. My fingers shook violently, but my mind was perfectly steady as I dialed a number from memory. The call connected on the second ring, and a man’s anxious voice filled the receiver. “Charlotte? The island has been off the grid for days—are you okay? Did Adam—” “Gideon,” I interrupted, my voice flat and remarkably calm. “I need you to find the lead rescue officer from the Swiss expedition, a man named Officer Keller. Find him, and get me the forensic report on the cut safety rope.”
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