His Childhood Sweetheart Returned, So I Chose Vengeance

I'd found out I was pregnant just yesterday morning. Figured I'd make peace with it and tell Paul that evening. By the afternoon, a dull ache had settled low in my belly. I called Paul, but he never picked up. It wasn't until Eleanor sent me a photo that I realized where he'd been. He'd thrown a party for her. Paul caught the shift in my focus, and a flicker of guilt crossed his face. He'd conveniently forgotten about Eleanor puncturing the condoms. Eleanor saw him about to step toward me and quickly looped her arm through his. "Paul, I heard that after a miscarriage, the body doesn't always... expel everything cleanly. And if I hadn't insisted on dragging you to that party, your wife wouldn't have ended up like this. It's all my fault." She drifted to the side of my bed, her gaze dropping to my stomach. A wave of dread washed over me. "Why don't I help press the residue out for her? Consider it my apology." Between the weakness draining my body and my scattered attention, I didn't react fast enough. She got her hands on me. The pain in my abdomen exploded through every nerve. Blood soaked through the sheets in a widening stain. Eleanor's eyes were bright with excitement. That look. It was the same look the monster from eight years ago had worn. She couldn't contain herself. "Paul, look! I really did press it out for her. See? I told you it wasn't clean." Her hands bore down harder. Paul stood rooted to the spot, making no move whatsoever to pull her off me. In my panic, my fingers found a glass IV bottle on the rolling supply cart beside the bed. I swung it at her head. Silence. Finally. Paul snapped back to reality and rushed forward to catch Eleanor as she crumpled. His eyes brimmed with concern for her. When they turned to me, all I saw was disgust and contempt. "Jessica, if anything happens to Ellie, I swear you'll pay for it." I lay on the bed and watched him carry Eleanor out. All I felt was a savage rush of satisfaction. The blood beneath me seemed to be gushing now. I used every last shred of strength to press the call button at the head of the bed. The sound of frantic footsteps in the corridor flooded me with relief, and the world went black. So tired. I want Mom and Dad. I just want to be their carefree little princess again. A doctor's voice wound through the darkness: "The patient has no will to survive. Increase the dosage. Find whoever matters most to her and bring them in. See if that gets a response." The person who matters most? They were all gone. The man I once believed I'd spend my life with had died in my heart just minutes ago. I sank into a long, long dream. Paul wasn't in it. Only the three of us: Mom, Dad, and me, happy together. Then, in a blink, my parents were ripped away mid-stride while we were shopping. Strangers seized them and dragged them off. They brought me to where my parents were being held and forced me to choose one of them. The ringleader looked like he'd swallowed something rotten. His eyes were wild, manic, brimming with a sick thrill. "No... please, no. What do you want? Money? I have money. I'll go get it for you, as much as you want. Just let my parents go. Please." I dropped to my knees, begging, pleading for their lives. One of the men dragged over a crate of cash and dumped it over my head. "Money? I've got plenty of money. What I want is their lives. You know how many of my brothers died because of them?" "If it weren't for your precious parents, I wouldn't have spent years running and hiding like a rat." He grabbed a fistful of hair at the back of my skull and wrenched my head up, forcing me to look at Mom and Dad. He leveled a gun at each of them. "Choose. Or they both die." "No..." When I refused, he put a bullet through my father's leg.

My mother stared at me with unyielding pride, not a trace of surrender in her eyes. "Sweetheart, remember what Mommy told you." I squeezed my eyes shut, the weight of grief crushing my chest as her words came flooding back. They had prepared for this. Somehow, they had always known a day like this might come. She had told me once: if anything ever happened to both her and Dad, save him. Not because she was blinded by love, but because she understood how much his work protecting the community mattered. I opened my eyes again and slowly raised my hand, pointing at the woman who had given me life, who had loved me with everything she had. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. This is my fault. I never should have dragged them out shopping. But the gun still came to rest against my father's forehead. My scream in that moment was the most useless sound in the world. That was when I learned just how naive I'd been. They had never intended to let either of my parents go. The "choose one" game was nothing but an appetizer to them. What they really wanted was to violate me in front of my mother. That was when Paul arrived with the police. "Boss, the cops are here." The leader swore. I seized the moment and sank my teeth into him. I barely made it two steps before he aimed at me and fired. My mother broke free from the men holding her and threw herself in front of me, taking the bullet. I've tormented myself with it ever since. If I hadn't fought back, would my mother still be alive? Under covering fire, the leader escaped. I held my mother's body and sobbed until I couldn't breathe. That was the first time I met Paul. He stood beside me, gently rubbing my back. I've thought about it many times since. If he hadn't shown up with those officers that day, the three of us would probably be reunited by now. "What's your name?" "Jessica Pruitt." He murmured, "Jessica." "Jessica. Jessica, wake up." I pried open my heavy eyelids. The man in front of me blurred and overlapped with the boy who had rubbed my back eight years ago. But that boy was long dead. I found out later that Paul had never been a police officer. The only reason he'd been there that day was because Eleanor had gone missing. The last place she'd been seen was near where I'd been held captive. As for how they eventually found Eleanor, I never learned. Paul's self-satisfied voice dragged me back to the present. He was standing beside Eleanor, showing off. "See? I told you. My wife can't bear to leave me. All I had to do was call her name a couple of times and she came right back from the brink." He turned to Eleanor with a grin. "You lost the bet. You're cooking dinner tonight." Eleanor pouted. "Come on, Paul, I'm still hurt, you know." "Fine, fine, fine. I'll cook. Happy?" They had actually made a bet over whether I'd survive. A woman who had one foot in the grave, and they'd turned it into a game. Pathetic. Revolting. The reason I came back was because my parents' killer was still out there. It had nothing to do with Paul. I pressed my cracked lips together and said nothing. Paul continued, "Jessica, you hurt Ellie. And since I'm the one who pulled you back from death's door, let's call it even. Tell your friend to drop the lawsuit." "Besides, Ellie was only looking out for you. She had no idea your health was that fragile. Just let it go." I beckoned Paul over with a small wave. He looked puzzled but leaned in anyway. "Can you help me sit up?" My soft, quiet voice landed in Paul's ears as agreement. He turned back to Eleanor with a wink. "See? I knew my wife would be reasonable."

Paul propped me up, and while he was distracted, I grabbed the bowl of porridge sitting on the nightstand—left behind by who knows who—and dumped it straight over his head. I let out a cold laugh. "In your dreams." Paul's face twisted with fury. Meeting my defiant stare, his hand rose instinctively. Slap! A sharp crack rang through the room. But it didn't land on my face. Jasmine Winfield stood there, a fruit basket in one hand and Paul's wrist caught in the other. She shoved him back and delivered a slap of her own across his cheek. "Get out, both of you. You and your little homewrecker." Eleanor rushed forward, tears streaming down her face. "I'm so sorry, Jessica. This is all my fault. Please don't blame Paul. As long as you two can work things out, I'll turn myself in. I'll go to prison willingly." The moment Eleanor cried, Paul's heart melted on cue. "Jessica Pruitt, don't push your luck." His voice dropped, low and venomous. "You think having some beat cop watching your back makes you untouchable? Your own parents couldn't protect you back then. What makes you think a cop is going to make any difference?" He shot a look at Jasmine. "I'm going to report her for assault." The air left my lungs. The people closest to you always knew exactly where to twist the knife. The hospital room went deathly still. Nothing but the rhythmic hiss of the ventilator filled the silence. When the anger drained from Paul's face, realization crept in. He looked down at himself, porridge still dripping from his hair, and took two halting steps toward me. Guilt flickered across his features. "Jessica... I—" Eleanor cut him off. "Paul, the back of my head really hurts. Can you check if the wound opened up again?" The guilt vanished from his face in an instant, replaced by panic. "Come on, let me take a look." They left. Jasmine slammed the door behind them. "Disgusting." Then her expression softened as she turned to me, eyes full of concern. "Jess, don't take any of that to heart. Your mom and dad were the bravest, most incredible people in the world." I nodded. "Thank you, Jasmine." Our families went way back. I'd known her since we were kids. Her father and mine had both been cops, and when she grew up, she followed in their footsteps. The difference was that her parents worked in the open, while mine worked in the shadows. Soon enough, I would step into those same shadows. "How did you know I was here?" I asked. I couldn't imagine Paul had called her. "The night you called 911, I was on duty. Jess, do you have any idea how terrified I was when my colleague read out the address? I kept calling your phone and you never picked up." It came back to me. That night, after the bleeding started, the first call I'd made was to 911 for an ambulance. But every unit had already been dispatched, and they had to reroute one from another district. The delay stretched on and on, so I'd called Paul instead. But he hadn't believed me. So my only option was to call the police. I gave her an apologetic look. "Sorry for worrying you." Jasmine shot me a look. "Don't be ridiculous." Then her face brightened. "Oh, I almost forgot. That transfer request you submitted? It went through. You got approved." My heart leaped. "Really? When do I report?" "No rush. The higher-ups know about your condition. They want you to recover for a month first." Eight years. For eight years, I'd been stuck behind a desk doing administrative work. All I'd ever wanted was to be out in the field, hunting down fugitives, the way my parents had. I'd submitted seven transfer requests. Every single one had been denied. Because I didn't have the physical skills to hold my own. So over those eight years, I'd trained in every form of martial arts I could find, earned every certification available, all building toward one goal: avenging my parents. "Jasmine, I need you to look into Eleanor Lambert's background for me." The next time Paul appeared was three days later. His eyes were bloodshot. "Jessica Pruitt, you vicious woman. If you hadn't cracked open the back of Ellie's skull, she never would have ended up paralyzed from the waist down."

I froze. Eleanor was paralyzed? She'd been standing right in front of me the day I woke up, playing her sweet little act. Now she was paralyzed? "Since I'm so vicious, let's just get a divorce." I'd been racking my brain for a way to bring it up. Since he'd come to me first, I might as well settle everything at once. Paul's gaze flickered, darting away for just a second. "You did this to Ellie, and you think you can just walk away? Not a chance." We were past the point of no return. If this was going to end, it would end in flames. "Then I'll see you in court. What I did was self-defense at most." Paul clearly hadn't expected this. The woman who'd always done whatever he said was now pushing back. His jaw tightened. "Jessica, what the hell has gotten into you? I already told you, she's just the daughter of a family friend. Her father asked me to look after her before he passed. What exactly are you so jealous about?" "And if this is about the baby, once you've recovered, I'll give you another one." The moment he mentioned the baby, a nameless fury roared to life inside me. I grabbed everything within reach on the bedside table and hurled it at him. "Get out! The entire Fletcher bloodline deserves to die out!" Paul dodged as he backed toward the door. "Jessica, as long as I'm alive, you will never make it into the Fugitive Unit." "Unless you apologize to Ellie and drop the charges. Otherwise, you'll deal with the consequences yourself." I stared after him. "Paul, what is that supposed to mean? Get back here and explain yourself!" His only answer was the door slamming shut hard enough to rattle the frame. Once trust collapses, every word that came before it starts to rot. I picked up my phone and texted Jasmine, asking her to look into it for me. That evening, Jasmine walked in carrying takeout from my favorite spot. But I had no appetite. All I wanted was the truth. "Jasmine, what did you find?" She set the food down, her expression heavy. "Jess, I asked my uncle to dig into it." "His findings show that every single one of your transfer applications over the past seven years was blocked by a distant cousin of Paul's." A cold laugh escaped me. The irony was almost poetic. "Eight years I've known the man, and I never once heard about this relative." Because I'd trusted Paul, I had told him about every single application over the years. Without fail, each one came back rejected. I thought it was because I wasn't good enough. That I didn't have what it took to follow in my parents' footsteps. On countless sleepless nights, I'd drowned in self-blame, hating myself for being so useless. It had all been rigged from the start. The eighth time, I was so afraid of another rejection that I didn't tell Paul. Sitting here now, I was endlessly grateful I hadn't. But he knew how badly I wanted to avenge my parents. What possible reason could he have for blocking me at every turn? "The background check I asked you to run on Eleanor. What came back?" Jasmine's hand froze on the lid of the takeout container. She looked up at me, dead serious. "We believe Eleanor is the daughter of the man who led the operation that year."