My wife’s childhood friend killed my parents in a drunk driving accident. When I tried to report him to the police, my wife blindfolded me and dragged me into a dark basement. For three years, I lived without sunlight, enduring endless pain and torment. After every round of punishment, her cold, cutting voice would echo in my ears: “Do you still hate him, Evan?” Until one day, I lay sprawled on the freezing floor, begging into the phone like a broken man. “I don’t hate him anymore! I swear, I don’t hate him!” On the other end of the line, my wife laughed. When she finally came to let me out, I flinched away from her hug. She froze, confused and silent. And when I numbly asked her for a divorce, she snapped—completely and utterly lost her mind. The damp, suffocating basement reeked of mold. I sat slumped in a corner, dragging my mangled leg behind me. The wet walls soaked through my shirt, clinging to my skin. When the heavy door creaked open, the sudden flood of light blinded me, and I instinctively shielded my eyes. I heard footsteps. Panicked, I shrank deeper into the shadows without even thinking. “Mr. Carter, Mrs. Howell sent me to get you.” I glanced up slowly, my vision adjusting. It was one of Jessa Howell’s long-time bodyguards. Lowering my gaze, I muttered, “Alright.” I struggled to my feet, my body weak and unsteady. Dragging my injured leg, I hobbled forward a few steps. The bodyguard’s expression twisted with shock. “Sir, your leg… what happened?” I clenched my fists tightly, my nails digging into my palms. My head hung low as I replied, “A cabinet fell on it. Probably fractured.” The bodyguard’s brows furrowed in disbelief. “Why didn’t you tell Mrs. Howell?” I let out a bitter laugh, ignoring his question. Tell her? And what would that accomplish? Would she have let me go to the hospital? Or called a doctor for me? “I’ll help you walk,” the bodyguard said awkwardly, stepping closer to support me. We hadn’t even made it out of the basement when I saw her—Jessa Howell—stepping out of a car with her childhood friend, Logan Reed. “Jessa, what did I tell you?” Logan said, his voice laced with mockery. “He’s obviously playing the victim to get your sympathy. Look at him—he can’t even walk on his own without someone holding him up. Pathetic.” Jessa’s gaze shifted to me at his words. She didn’t say anything, but her eyes sparkled with smug satisfaction as she strutted toward me. When she got close, she suddenly opened her arms, as if to embrace me. But I recoiled violently, stumbling back with a flinch. My body curled up instinctively, and I muttered through choked breaths, “Don’t hit me… please, don’t hit me… I’m sorry, I’m so sorry…” Jessa froze, her arms still outstretched, her face a mask of disbelief. Slowly, she lowered her hands, her expression darkening as she turned to the bodyguard. “What’s going on here?” she demanded. The bodyguard, clearly shaken by my reaction, opened his mouth to respond but hesitated. “Ma’am, I—” “Jessa!” Logan interrupted loudly, pulling her attention toward him. The bodyguard immediately clamped his mouth shut, swallowing whatever he had been about to say. Logan smirked, his tone dripping with condescension as he sneered at me. “Evan Carter, are you seriously holding a grudge because Jessa locked you up to reflect on your actions? Is this whole act just to make her feel guilty?” He let out a low chuckle. “Come on, drop the act. You already admitted you were wrong. Jessa and I have decided to let it go. We’re not even mad about you falsely accusing me anymore.” He emphasized those last three words—”falsely accusing me”—with a sharp, pointed edge. I froze, my trembling stopping as a hollow emptiness settled over me. Logan laughed again. “See, Jessa? What did I say?” I stayed where I was, crouched on the ground, unwilling to get up. Jessa’s voice turned cold, her words cutting through the air like ice. “Evan Carter,” she said from above me, “three years wasn’t enough for you to learn your lesson?”
“Come on, Jessa, don’t get worked up. We have that meeting with Mr. Collins soon,” Logan said casually, glancing at his watch. Jessa Howell turned to look at me, still crouched on the ground. Her fingers tightened around the strap of her Hermès bag as she snapped at me, her voice dripping with disdain. “Evan Carter, you’re such a pathetic loser! Look at Logan, and then look at yourself!” “For the past three years, it’s been Logan who’s stood by my side, helping me through everything. If it weren’t for him, I would’ve fallen apart by now! And you—just look at the sorry state you’re in! Do you really think you deserve me anymore?” With that, she looped her arm through Logan’s and turned to leave. Logan glanced back at me, a smug smirk on his face. He mouthed the word: “Loser.” I trembled as I watched the two of them walk away together. The bodyguard beside me looked down, startled. “Sir! Your little finger… What happened to it?” I slowly lowered my head, staring at my twisted pinky finger on my right hand. In three years, Jessa hadn’t even noticed it. She hadn’t noticed my limp either. She didn’t even look at me long enough to see the way my body had broken. I forced a bitter smile. “It’s nothing. Just an old break… didn’t heal right.” “…Let me take you to the hospital.” The bodyguard helped me to my feet, my weight leaning heavily on him as my strength gave out. Logan Reed had only come back into Jessa’s life three years ago. I’d always known she had a childhood friend—a boy she grew up with, someone her family and mine used to joke she’d marry one day. When his family hit hard times, they sent him abroad. For all those years, Jessa stayed single. She never showed interest in anyone else. I knew why. She was waiting for him. But I was waiting for her. During that time, my family introduced me to dozens of women, but I turned them all down, one after another. I was so steadfast in my devotion that my parents started to wonder if I might secretly prefer men. Then, one day, Jessa showed up at my door, drenched from the rain. “Evan,” she said, trembling, “I’m done waiting. Do you have someone you want to marry?” “If you don’t… what about me?” I couldn’t contain myself. I wrapped her tightly in my arms, overwhelmed by the love I’d been holding back for so long. She never knew how deeply I loved her. After we got married, I gave her everything I had—my patience, my devotion, my unconditional love. And for a while, it seemed to work. I thought I’d finally won her heart. But everything changed the moment Logan came back. When my parents were killed, I found a witness who confirmed what I already suspected: Logan Reed had been the driver. He was drunk. When he hit my parents, he panicked and tried to flee. But when they were still alive, he ran them over again. And again. Just to make sure they couldn’t survive. But Jessa refused to believe it. She swore up and down that Logan had been with her all night. She even testified for him in court. And when I finally brought my witness forward, the man suddenly changed his story. I became the crazy husband. The jealous fool who was desperate to make Logan pay for “stealing” Jessa’s love. But I’ll never forget that day. When I arrived at the hospital and saw my parents’ mangled, lifeless bodies on those cold slabs, I thought I’d lose my mind. And I’ll never forget what Jessa did next. She tricked me. She told me she wanted to help, wanted me to calm down. And then she locked me in that basement. Her face was cold, unfeeling, as she said, “Evan, you’re too emotional. You need time to reflect.” At the hospital, the doctor frowned as he examined me. “What happened to your hand?” he asked, glancing at the bodyguard. “Are you his family?” The bodyguard hesitated, then nodded stiffly. The doctor sighed and shook his head. “This injury’s been left untreated for too long. Even if we reset the bone, it’ll never fully heal.” “And your leg,” he added, gesturing toward my limp. “What happened there?” I glanced sideways at the bodyguard. We both knew the answer, but I couldn’t say it. Jessa had made it clear: if I ever told anyone about the basement, she’d make sure I never found out where my parents were buried.
The bodyguard dropped me off at the villa and left without a word. Before opening the door, I clearly saw him input the passcode. It wasn’t the same as it used to be. This time, the code was Logan Reed’s birthday. I limped inside, taking in the house that was both familiar and utterly foreign. Everything looked the same as it had three years ago, yet it was completely different. By the door, there were two pairs of slippers—one for a woman, clearly Jessa’s, and the other for a man. Logan’s. In the bedroom, there were two pillows on the bed. The closet was divided—her clothes on the left, his on the right. In the bathroom, two toothbrushes sat neatly in matching cups. The counter was cluttered with men’s toiletries, from shaving cream to cologne. Every detail screamed the obvious: Jessa and Logan were already living together. As I stepped out of the bedroom, a soft thud drew my attention. Turning toward the living room, I saw two figures entwined in the dim moonlight, locked in a kiss. The sound of their intimacy was suffocating. “Click!” I flipped the living room lights on. Jessa turned, her flushed face frozen in shock. She instinctively pushed Logan away. “When did you get back?” she asked, her voice defensive as she rubbed her temple. “I drank too much,” she continued quickly, “and if it weren’t for Logan bringing me home, I don’t know how I would’ve escaped those old drunks at the party.” Her tone shifted, becoming accusatory. “Evan, things like this—you should’ve been the one handling them. If you hadn’t lost your mind back then, I wouldn’t have had to struggle so much all these years.” I stood silently, unmoving, letting her words wash over me. She kept complaining, her voice relentless, until Logan walked out of the kitchen carrying a glass of warm water. “Here, drink this. It’ll soothe your throat,” he said gently, offering it to her. The tenderness in his actions, the way he hovered beside her—it was the kind of care that made him look more like her husband than I ever had. Jessa rolled her eyes at me, sighed heavily, and took the glass from Logan. After finishing the water, she spoke again, her tone flat. “Logan’s been looking for a place to stay. Until he finds one, he’ll be living here.” Her words hung in the air, daring me to respond. But this time, I did. “I know,” I said quietly. “His things are already everywhere in your bedroom.” Jessa’s face hardened, the glass slipping from her hand and shattering on the floor. “You went into my bedroom?” she asked sharply, her voice low and cold. The sound of her tone, combined with the crash of glass, sent me spiraling. For a moment, I was back in that suffocating, moldy basement. My mind went blank. The only thing I could do was stammer out an apology. “I’m sorry… I’m so sorry…” Jessa froze, her expression softening with confusion as her brows furrowed. She stepped closer, her voice quieter now. “Evan, what’s wrong? I was just asking a simple question.” I didn’t respond. Before I could, Logan let out a dramatic sigh, breaking the tension. “Evan, man, this is just too much,” he said, shaking his head in mock pity. “I didn’t expect you’d still hold such a grudge after three years. You’re not seriously pretending to be this broken just to make Jessa feel guilty, are you?” Jessa blinked, as though Logan’s words had suddenly illuminated a truth she hadn’t considered. “Is that it, Evan?” she asked, her voice sharper now. “I’ve told you a hundred times—Logan was with me that night. He was at a business dinner, keeping me company. Why can’t you believe me? Do you have any idea how much trouble you caused him? You almost ruined his life!” Her voice cracked as her frustration grew. “Because of you, Logan lost his job. His company fired him because of your ridiculous accusations. Everywhere he goes, people whisper behind his back, calling him a killer. Do you have any idea what you’ve done to him?” Her eyes burned with anger as she continued. “He almost jumped off a building, Evan! He almost ended his life because of you!”
My silence finally pushed Jessa Howell over the edge. She grabbed a glass from the table and hurled it at me. The glass shattered on impact. Blood began trickling down my forehead. Jessa froze, her eyes wide with shock as she stared at me. “Why… why didn’t you dodge?” Dodge? Could I even dodge? Hadn’t she made it clear that I wasn’t allowed to? If I had tried to avoid it, she’d have threatened to desecrate my parents’ remains—to feed their bones to the dogs. Jessa always meant what she said. I still remembered her icy words from years ago: “Evan Carter, if you dare spread lies about Logan, I’ll make sure you regret ever being born.” And in that dark, damp room, she followed through on her threats. When Logan lost a few strands of hair from stress, she sent people to beat me senseless. When Logan couldn’t eat, I wasn’t allowed to eat either. Not only that—she controlled how much water I could drink. When Logan almost jumped off a building, she had my legs and hands broken. Now, as the blood dripped steadily down my face, my vision blurred. I blinked, trying to stay conscious. Jessa rushed toward me. “Logan! Get me the iodine and some bandages!” Logan didn’t move. He stood there, watching with a smirk. “Jessa,” he said slowly, “this is exactly what Evan wants. He stood there and let you hit him so you’d feel guilty. Don’t fall for it.” Jessa hesitated, her hand still reaching for my arm. Then, as if Logan’s words flipped a switch, she let go. Her voice dropped, colder than before. “Evan Carter, are you serious? Do you really think pulling a stunt like this will give you control over me?” She straightened, her tone sharp and commanding. “You’ve been out for a while now, haven’t you? Have you even apologized yet? If you get down on your knees right now and sincerely apologize to Logan for your reckless accusations, I’ll let this go. I’ll forgive you.” Logan chuckled mockingly. “Just an apology, Jessa? That’s all?” Jessa glanced at me, her expression conflicted, before nodding firmly. “Yes. Evan, get on your knees and apologize.” The blood on my forehead dripped onto her hand, the warmth making her flinch. She yanked her arm back instinctively. Logan stepped forward, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her close. He handed her a tissue and carefully wiped the blood off her hand. “Evan,” he said with a smirk, “what are you waiting for?” Jessa’s expression darkened, and she looked at me expectantly. I raised my head slowly, my breaths shallow. After a long pause, I took a deep breath and spoke, my voice steady. “I’ll apologize. I’ll even kneel. But first, I want to know—where are my parents buried?” Jessa froze, caught off guard by the question. Logan’s expression flickered, his eyes darting away. The room fell into silence. After what felt like an eternity, Jessa turned to Logan, her brows furrowing. “Logan,” she said cautiously, “I remember you handled that. Where are they buried?” Logan’s shifty gaze told me something was wrong. I took a step forward and grabbed his arm. “Where are they?” I demanded. “Let go of me,” he snapped. I tightened my grip. “Tell me where you buried my parents!” Logan’s face darkened, but then he broke into a twisted smile. “Evan, you seem angrier than ever. What’s your plan? Make Jessa believe you’re sorry, and then turn around and run me over with a car, just like you think I did to your parents?” Jessa’s eyes widened in shock. “Evan Carter, let go!” she shouted. I didn’t move. “I said, let go!” Her voice grew sharper. “Do you want to go back to that basement? Is that what you want?” Back to the basement? No. Anything but that. My hand dropped from Logan’s arm, and I turned to look at Jessa, exhaustion etched across my face. “Jessa,” I said softly, “let’s get a divorce.” The room fell silent. Jessa stared at me, her expression cracking as if she couldn’t process the words. “Divorce?” she repeated, her voice shaky. “Are you joking?” Her tone turned incredulous. “I told you to let go of Logan, and your response is to ask for a divorce? Are you seriously doing this over a little scratch on Logan’s arm? Evan, what the hell are you trying to pull?” I didn’t answer right away. I just looked at her—the woman I had loved so deeply, who had turned my life into a waking nightmare. Every day in that basement had been a living hell. I couldn’t believe she had done all of this for Logan. I couldn’t believe she had ordered people to torment me, just to make him feel better. I spoke again, my voice devoid of emotion. “If you love him so much, I’ll let you have him. Isn’t that what you want?” Jessa’s composure shattered. Her eyes darted away, her guilt written plainly across her face. “Evan, stop talking nonsense. Be reasonable. I never wanted to divorce you. Logan and I—” “But I want to divorce you.” I cut her off. Her face twisted, her anger returning in full force. Logan, on the other hand, laughed mockingly. “Evan, where would you even go? Jessa owns the company. You’re limping, your hand’s messed up—you’re going to end up homeless. Is that what you want?” His words hit me like a blow, but I refused to show it. Jessa, however, looked startled. “What? You’re limping? What happened to your leg? And your hand?” I followed her gaze as she looked down at my injuries. Then I laughed bitterly and raised my hand. “You didn’t already know? Why are you acting so surprised?”
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