Đang tải thông tin quảng bá...
His Regret: My Ex-Husband Wants Me Back
NovelShort
Hoàn thành
On the day of her mother's funeral, Beth Cox clutched the urn and sent her husband Melvin Henson ninety-nine voice messages before he finally showed up. But he arrived with his arm around his firm's y...
Chương (7)
第1章
On the day of her mother's funeral, Beth Cox's husband didn't show.
Beth stood in the funeral home lobby, clutching the urn, and sent him ninety-nine sixty-second voice messages before he finally rushed in, still wearing the court robes he hadn't had time to change out of.
The moment she saw Melvin, the floodgates opened. She couldn't help it. The words poured out of her in a torrent of hurt and accusation, one grievance tumbling over the next.
Melvin rubbed his temples with a pained expression, but he stood there and let her go on for half an hour before he finally spoke:
"Don't be upset. I was swamped today. I'll go with you to the cemetery right now, okay?"
"What good is coming now? When they were cremating my mother, when I needed you most, where were you?"
Beth's face flushed deep red. Her fists clenched at her sides, and she looked ready to launch into another round, fully prepared to keep going until she'd said every last word.
But Melvin frowned, something he rarely did, and raised a hand to cut her off:
"Your mother has passed. The cremation is done. What's the point of all this? Will it bring her back? I have an important wedding to attend tonight. I'm running late. I need to go."
Beth stared at him, eyes wide.
She couldn't comprehend it. Today was the day they laid her mother to rest, and he was leaving for a wedding.
She chased him to his car, her voice cracking with fury: "Melvin Henson, if you go watch someone else get married today, tomorrow you'll be watching us get divorced!"
Divorce. She'd lost count of how many times that word had left her mouth.
Everyone in Harbor City knew that Beth Cox, heiress to the Cox Group, was stunningly beautiful and impeccably pedigreed, but she was also a notorious chatterbox. Give her any topic, any person, and she could talk circles around them for hours, refusing to stop until she'd made her point.
Her family adored her. The people around her indulged her. So whatever she said went, and no one dared push back.
Melvin might have been a famous attorney, legendary for his silver tongue, but even he was powerless against her. The moment she dropped the word "divorce," he'd surrender on the spot and coax her back with soft words.
Beth waited for Melvin to step out of the car and soothe her. Instead, she turned and found herself face to face with a striking, ice-cold beauty.
The woman wore a perfectly tailored suit and gold-rimmed glasses, a stack of files pressed against her chest. Her expression carried the detached severity of someone perpetually on the clock.
"Mrs. Henson, don't you think you're being a little unreasonable today?"
"Attorney Henson took on a major case today. Three lives and tens of millions of dollars in financial disputes. Your messages were pinging nonstop in the middle of his court session. He rushed here the moment he finished, and you're still going after him like this. Tell me, which matters more: the victims who are still alive, or your mother who's already gone?"
That single remark nearly choked the words right out of Beth's throat.
Beth recognized her. Jeanette Pruitt, a recent intern at Melvin's firm. Melvin himself had said the girl lacked talent and wasn't worth investing in. When had she started keeping her at his side?
Melvin stepped out of the car and gently took the files from Jeanette's hands, smiling at her with a look full of warmth and admiration.
Beth's chest seized. Her eyes locked onto Jeanette, and she trembled with rage:
"You're nothing but an intern working under my husband. Since when do you get to lecture me?"
Jeanette offered a thin smile, adjusted her gold-rimmed glasses, and let her gaze drift toward Melvin:
"Mrs. Henson, first of all, I'm not an intern anymore. Attorney Henson has made me his partner and personal assistant. I'm not like you, chattering away all day until he can't stand it. I actually help him. In his work and in his life."
"Second, Attorney Henson spends every day in court, talking and listening for hours on end. When he's off the clock, all he wants is a little peace and quiet. I wonder if Mrs. Henson is simply too rich and too idle, which is why she's always so relentless and overbearing."
Beth saw the undisguised contempt in Jeanette's eyes and raised her hand, ready to slap that look right off her face.
A strong hand caught her wrist. Melvin's brow was furrowed, his eyes dark and heavy as they bore into her:
"Enough! Beth, you're not just running your mouth like a shrew anymore. You're starting to act like one too."
"Jeanette is the most important person by my side right now. I won't let you lay a finger on her."
The words drove through Beth's chest like a blade. Pain spread outward from the wound, so sudden and so total that her legs nearly buckled. She shook like a leaf caught in a gale.
His grip was crushing, as though he meant to grind her bones to dust.
He called her a shrew, yet he called Jeanette by her first name, soft and familiar.
So that was it. His absence today, the sudden shift in his demeanor, all of it traced back to this woman, who had somehow, at some point she couldn't name, become "the most important person by his side."
Once, Melvin had said those same words about Beth.
Years ago, the first time they met, Melvin was a fresh law school graduate. His very first client was unhappy with the outcome and stormed into the firm, berating him until he stood there red-faced and speechless.
Beth happened to be passing by. She couldn't just watch, so she stepped in and argued with the client, her quick tongue firing so fast and so sharp that the man eventually sputtered into silence and gave up.
After the client left, Melvin wiped the sweat from his forehead and looked at her with pure gratitude:
"Thank you. If you hadn't been here, who knows how long that would've dragged on. You were incredible. I've always admired women who can talk like that."
Beth's face turned crimson. Every wealthy young man her family had set her up with over the years had fled within ten minutes, unable to handle how much she talked.
She'd failed ninety-nine blind dates. She'd all but given up, resigned to growing old alone.
And here was someone who didn't just tolerate her. He admired her for the very thing everyone else ran from. It felt like fate.
Soon, all of Harbor City knew that the Cox heiress was making no secret of dating a nobody junior attorney, parking her Ferrari outside his office every day, tagging along to eat street food from sidewalk carts.
The Cox family objected at first. But Beth talked at her parents day and night, going on and on about how wonderful Melvin was, how driven, how special, swearing she would marry him or no one.
Eventually, her parents gave in. They didn't just accept Melvin; they threw the family's resources and connections behind him. Combined with his own talent and relentless drive, he shot to prominence in just a few years, opening his own firm and winning the Bar Association's Elite Attorney Award.
After the wedding, Beth still talked as much as ever, and Melvin would sit there with a patient smile, listening.
But gradually, flickers of impatience crept in. Whenever they did, Beth got upset, because she believed communication was the most important thing between husband and wife.
So every time, she'd remind him by threatening divorce.
Melvin had long since learned the routine. All he had to do was pull her into his arms and say, "Alright, alright, I'm listening, okay?" and the tears would dissolve into a smile.
After all, she loved him that much. She would never actually go through with it.
But now, the woman who always had too much to say stood as if something had closed around her throat. Tears welled in her eyes. She stared at him for a long time before forcing out two dry, hollow words: "I want a divorce."
Melvin let out a cold laugh, turned around, opened the car door, and placed a protective hand over Jeanette's head as she ducked inside. "Get in, Jeanette. We need to get to the wedding. You still have to change into your gown."
Then, without so much as a backward glance, he said to Beth: "Fine. We'll talk about it when I get home tonight."
The black Maybach pulled away and vanished down the road. Beth stood where he'd left her, trembling.
She felt like she should say something. But she found she had nothing left to say.
Every urge to speak, every word she'd ever stored up, dissolved into nothing.
She lowered her head and texted her best friend overseas: "I'm going to divorce Melvin. After it's done, I'll come to you. Your jewelry design company still has an opening, right?"
Beth had studied jewelry design. She was extraordinarily gifted, but she'd turned down her friend's invitations again and again for Melvin's sake, passing up chance after chance at international recognition.
Her friend replied almost instantly: "Beth, come on. You say this every time, and every time you end up right back by his side. You two are married. Just sit down and talk it out!"
Beth smiled bitterly. There was nothing left to talk about.
She typed one more message: "I mean it this time. One month from now, I'll be done with him for good."
第2章
Melvin didn't come home until late that night, reeking of liquor.
He spotted Beth sitting on the couch and rubbed the bridge of his nose, irritation bleeding through his voice. "You're still up? If you're looking for another fight, save it. I drank too much and I'm exhausted. I don't have the energy."
Beth held a document out to him. "Just sign this."
"What is it this time? Jewelry? A new car?"
His vision was swimming. He didn't so much as glance at the words DIVORCE AGREEMENT printed across the top before picking up a pen and scrawling his name.
In the past, whenever he came home late and drunk, Beth would get angry. She'd lecture him about what alcohol and sleep deprivation did to the body, talking nonstop while she wiped his face with a warm towel and set a pot of hangover soup on the stove.
He would just listen in silence, drifting off to the sound of her fussing.
The next day, to smooth things over, he'd buy her a piece of jewelry or some rare artwork.
But tonight, Beth said nothing more. There was no soup simmering on the stove. She simply gathered the document, gave him one last look, and turned to walk upstairs.
Melvin felt a flicker of surprise, but figured she was just expressing her displeasure in a new way. Fine by him. At least he wouldn't have to listen to her nagging in his ear all night.
Beth paused at the turn of the staircase. She could see Melvin sprawled across the couch below, no blanket, visibly uncomfortable.
She didn't hesitate. She went straight to the bedroom and closed the door.
Early the next morning, Beth took the signed divorce agreement to the courthouse. Once the thirty-day waiting period passed, her marriage to Melvin Henson would be officially over.
After leaving the courthouse, she went to the auction house.
A pair of ruby earrings was going up for bid today. They had been donated for charity by Beth's mother before she passed.
They were her mother's favorite pair. Beth remembered being small, perched on her mother's lap, watching her unclasp the earrings and place them in her tiny palm. The deep red had seemed to pulse against her skin, warm as a little flame.
Her mother had smiled and said, "When you grow up, sweetheart, these will be yours. On your wedding day, I'll put them on you myself."
Her eyes had been so bright when she said it, like they held every star in the sky.
Later, when the illness came, her mother lay in the hospital bed, wasted down to nothing but bone. She held Beth's hand and whispered, "Sweetheart, I donated those earrings. For a good cause. Please don't be upset with me."
Now her mother was gone, and those earrings were the only piece of her left. Beth was going to win them back no matter what.
The auction began. The auctioneer presented the ruby earrings and opened the bidding at five hundred thousand dollars.
After several rounds, Beth called out one million. The auctioneer's gavel was already rising when a familiar voice cut through from the entrance.
"One point two million!"
Beth turned. It was Melvin.
He wore a deep blue velvet suit, and beside him stood Jeanette Pruitt in a red dress. They strolled in together, every eye in the room following them.
Jeanette walked right up to Beth, contempt written across her face.
"Mrs. Henson, I'm so sorry. I'm accompanying Attorney Henson to a very important dinner tonight, one that could shape the next decade of his firm. These earrings happen to match my dress perfectly, so he's decided to bid on them for me. I'm sure you don't mind, do you?"
Beth stared at her, every muscle locked tight. "Those were my mother's. You don't deserve to touch them."
Jeanette covered her mouth and laughed. "Her belongings? How morbid! Attorney Henson, never mind then. They give me the creeps."
Melvin patted Jeanette's shoulder gently. "Don't worry. I'm here."
Then he turned to Beth, his tone breezy, almost bored.
"Beth, you're a jewelry designer, and your family has more money than God. You can have any piece you want. Jeanette happens to like these earrings. Just let her have them. It's such a small thing. Why make a scene?"
Something detonated inside Beth's chest. She clenched her jaw and raised her paddle. "Not a chance. One point five million."
Melvin looked at her. A flash of displeasure crossed his face. He raised his hand, and though his voice was quiet, it carried to every corner of the room. "I'm calling the sky on this lot. No ceiling."
The words hit Beth like a bolt of lightning. Her whole body trembled. She had never imagined Melvin would go this far for that woman.
Whispers rippled through the crowd.
"Who is she? Why is Attorney Henson bidding against his own wife over her?"
"Apparently she's his new flame. She's been on his arm at every event lately."
"Well, well. Even the Cox heiress gets her turn."
Jeanette drank in every word, the corner of her lips curling upward. She accepted the earrings from the auctioneer, held them up to the light, and said loudly enough for the whole room to hear, "They're gorgeous. Thank you, Attorney Henson."
Then she moved to fasten one to her ear.
Beth snapped. She lunged forward and seized Jeanette's wrist, her voice tearing out of her throat. "Don't you dare put my mother's earrings on. You are not worthy!"
Jeanette let out a sharp cry of pain, her eyes instantly welling with tears. Her fingers went slack, and the earrings slipped free, hitting the marble floor with a small, bright crack. They shattered into pieces.
第3章
"No!"
Beth's scream tore through the auction hall, raw and guttural, and the entire room went silent.
She dropped to her knees, trying to piece the fragments back together. The jagged edges sliced into her fingers, blood streaming down and dripping onto the red gemstones until she couldn't tell which was blood and which was tears.
She couldn't feel the pain. She cradled the shattered pieces in her trembling hands.
Her mother's gentle face flickered before her eyes, over and over. Her mother wearing those earrings while watering flowers on the balcony. Her mother holding her on her lap, telling her stories.
Jeanette stood off to the side, clutching her wrist, her voice thin and teary: "Mr. Henson, look, my wrist is all red. It really hurts."
Melvin turned immediately, taking Jeanette's wrist in both hands, examining it with exaggerated care, his brow furrowed deep: "How is it this bad? Is it swelling? Someone call an ambulance!"
Beth rose slowly to her feet. She walked up to Jeanette, her voice hoarse but clear: "Jeanette Pruitt, get on your knees. Right now. Apologize to my mother."
Jeanette's face went white. She shrank back a step. "I... I didn't mean to break them."
"Didn't mean to?" Beth let out a cold laugh, her eyes rimmed red. "Do you have any idea what those earrings meant to me? You did it on purpose."
She seized Jeanette by the arm and forced her toward the ground. "I said apologize. Apologize to my mother!"
Jeanette was shaking all over, her knees inches from the floor, when a pair of hands caught her.
Melvin stepped forward and crouched down, shielding Jeanette behind him, pulling her into his arms. He looked up at Beth, his eyes ice-cold:
"Enough! Beth, can you be reasonable for once? I bought those earrings for Jeanette. They were hers. She broke her own property. What right do you have to demand an apology?"
"And you grabbed her first. You hurt her, and that's why she dropped them. When it comes down to it, you brought this on yourself. If you'd just let her wear them, none of this would have happened. You're the one who should be apologizing!"
Beth stood frozen. She was the one who should apologize?
Her mother's only keepsake, stolen from her, smashed to pieces, and wanting it back was her fault?
Jeanette's wrist didn't even have a mark on it, and he was ready to call an ambulance.
Her fingers were slick with blood, and he hadn't spared her a single glance.
"Melvin Henson." She spoke each word separately, each one a blade. "Say that again."
Melvin's frown deepened. "I'll say it as many times as you need to hear it. Jeanette did nothing wrong. You're the one who went too far. Look at yourself right now. You're acting like a lunatic. Where's the Cox family heiress in any of this?"
Beth stared at him, her chest heaving. Then, all at once, a cold smile settled on her face. "Fine. You say it's my fault."
She turned, picked up a glass of red wine from the table, and hurled it straight into Jeanette's face. Jeanette shrieked. The wine ran down her hair in dark rivulets, and in an instant she looked utterly wrecked.
Beth smashed the glass on the floor, shards scattering in every direction. "Then I don't mind making one more mistake."
Melvin's face went ashen. He grabbed Beth's wrist. "Have you lost your mind?"
Beth lifted her gaze to his. Her eyes were full of tears, but not a single one fell. She wrenched her wrist free, turned, and walked out of the auction hall.
When she got home, Beth packed her things and moved into the guest room. After what had happened, she could no longer share a bed with Melvin Henson.
Melvin came knocking when he got back. She refused to open the door.
She stood on her side of it and said, "I have nothing to say to you. Leave."
Melvin was caught off guard. Lately her words had grown fewer and fewer. Before, she could talk his ear off for hours about nothing at all.
But after everything that had happened recently, she wouldn't give him a single extra sentence.
What was she doing? Learning to use silence as a weapon against him? Trying a new tactic to get his attention?
He was quiet for a moment, then kept his voice measured: "Fine. Keep this up if you want. But the Cox Group anniversary gala is tomorrow night. Make sure you're there on time."
The next evening, Beth arrived at the banquet hall with Melvin. Despite every fiber of her being resisting, she held a champagne flute and made the rounds with him, exchanging pleasantries with each guest as if nothing were wrong.
Jeanette was there too. Melvin had recommended her as the emcee, and she was up on stage now, adjusting the equipment.
Without warning, a ripple of commotion swept through the hall. Someone gasped. Whispers broke out. Every head turned the same direction.
Beth followed their gazes to the stage, where the massive LED screen had come to life with a video.
Her pupils contracted. The air locked in her throat. Her whole body began to shake so violently she nearly collapsed.
On the screen, she was strapped to a chair in a psychiatric ward, undergoing electroconvulsive therapy.
Electrodes on her forehead. Her mouth wrenched open. Her body seizing. Her eyes vacant and hollow, like something that had already stopped living.
She had suffered from bipolar disorder. The compulsive talking that people mocked had been mania all along: relentless highs she couldn't stop, relentless crashes she couldn't escape. Back then, Melvin hadn't recoiled. He had stayed. He had gone to every appointment with her.
But it was a memory soaked in agony, and even now, thinking of it made her skin crawl.
And at this moment, every guest in the room, every person of influence in Harbor City, was watching that footage. Some were stifling laughter. Some were whispering behind their hands. Some had their phones out, recording.
"The Cox heiress is mentally ill?"
"No wonder she never shuts up. Turns out it's a manic episode."
"Tsk. Poor Attorney Henson. Married a crazy woman."
The words hit Beth like a physical blow. The room tilted and spun.
Up on stage, Jeanette still held the remote in her hand. She pressed her other palm to her mouth, wide-eyed, the picture of innocence, as though she had no idea how this had happened. But at the corner of her lips, a smile she couldn't quite suppress flickered through.
Beth understood everything. A cold clarity settled over her. She charged up the stairs and ripped the power cable from the screen.
Then she turned, seized Jeanette's jaw in one hand, and forced her face up. "Jeanette Pruitt. Who gave you the nerve to do this?"
Jeanette's eyes streamed with tears under the grip, her body twisting, fighting to break free.
Melvin rushed the stage and shoved Beth back. "What are you doing? Let go of her!"
Beth stumbled backward. At that same instant, the lighting rig behind her caught on the power cable. Metal shrieked against metal, and the entire frame came crashing down toward them.
第4章
In that split second, Melvin threw his arms around Jeanette and shoved Beth away with his free hand.
Beth slammed into the heavy metal rig. Sharp edges drove into her back and left arm, and pain tore through her entire body.
She heard her own bones break.
She hit the ground hard, the lighting rig pinning her down, and she couldn't move. Melvin already had Jeanette cradled against his chest, backing them both to safety.
Jeanette's ankle had barely grazed the edge of the rig, but her eyes were already brimming with tears. "Attorney Henson, my foot hurts so much. Do you think it might be broken?"
Melvin crouched down and cradled her foot in both hands, his face tight with worry. "Don't be scared. I'm here. Can you stand?"
Jeanette tried to put weight on it and sucked in a sharp breath, tears rolling down her cheeks. "It hurts so much..."
Without another word, Melvin scooped her up into his arms.
Beth lay in a spreading pool of her own blood, the rig crushing her back. Every breath was agony. She opened her mouth to call out to him, but all that left her throat was a faint, broken moan.
Melvin carried Jeanette two steps, then finally glanced back. His eyes held nothing but blame and disgust.
His voice came out cold enough to freeze:
"Beth, look at what you've done. If you hadn't lost your mind and charged up on stage, would any of this have happened? If Jeanette's foot is really injured, can you even begin to take responsibility for that?"
"I am so disappointed in you. A perfectly good anniversary gala, ruined. You've humiliated the entire Cox family tonight. If your father saw this, I can't imagine how furious he'd be. Can't you just be still for one single day? Do you have to drag everyone around you into your chaos?"
Beth wanted to speak. She wanted to tell him she'd gone up on stage because Jeanette had played that video to humiliate her, that she hadn't knocked the rig over.
She wanted to tell him, I'm in so much pain. I think my bones are broken. Can you please call me an ambulance.
But she couldn't get a single word out.
Her lips moved. Her throat felt sealed shut. All she could manage were thin, threadlike gasps.
Melvin stared down at her, unmoved, as though she were putting on an act. Jeanette clutched his collar and whispered, "Attorney Henson, doesn't Mrs. Henson look seriously hurt? Shouldn't we call an ambulance?"
"She got knocked around a little. She'll be fine," Melvin said. "You're the one we need to worry about. That foot can't wait."
He turned and walked away without a second of hesitation, Jeanette still in his arms.
Beth lay on the ground and watched his back grow smaller and smaller until it vanished through the ballroom doors.
People rushed over. Someone was dialing 911. Before consciousness slipped away, a memory surfaced from years ago.
She and Melvin had just gotten together. She'd been walking through the living room and bumped her shin on the coffee table. The bruise was tiny, no bigger than a fingernail.
Melvin's face had gone white. He crouched down and touched the bruise so gently, his brow knotted with worry. "How could you be so careless? Does it hurt?"
She told him it didn't. He picked her up anyway and carried her to the hospital. They took X-rays. The doctor said it was nothing, and only then did he relax even slightly.
Back home, he followed her everywhere, step for step. When she needed the bathroom, he carried her there and waited outside the door, knocking every ten seconds: "Beth, are you done yet? Let me carry you out."
She'd laughed. "I'm not an invalid."
He'd said, "When it comes to you, not even a scratch is acceptable."
Back then, she'd believed she was the luckiest woman alive. Now she lay on the floor in a pool of her own blood, and he had walked away carrying another woman without even calling her an ambulance.
She closed her eyes, and the darkness swallowed everything.
When she woke again, Beth was in a hospital bed, encased in plaster, pain radiating from everywhere at once.
Melvin sat in the chair beside her, holding her hand. He hadn't shaved. The skin beneath his eyes was bruised with exhaustion.
The moment he saw her open her eyes, he shot to his feet, relief flooding his face. "Beth, you're finally awake? You were unconscious for two days. You scared me half to death."
He gestured toward the bedside. "Beth, I got you all kinds of gifts. I wanted them to be the first thing you saw when you woke up, so you'd feel a little better."
Beth turned her head. The nightstand was buried under a pile of things.
The newest Chanel bag. She used to buy one every season, but he hadn't given her one in over a year.
A Tiffany diamond necklace, limited edition. She'd lingered on it for a moment in a magazine once.
A full set of her favorite high-end skincare, the limited-run collection, arranged in a neat row.
And a large bouquet of white lisianthus, the same flowers from their wedding.
There was something ingratiating in his voice:
"Beth, don't worry. I flew in that top orthopedic specialist from Paris. He arrived last night and reviewed your scans this morning. He said your surgery went well and your recovery should be smooth."
Beth looked at the gifts. Then she looked at Melvin.
The specialist, the gifts, the flowers. He was making amends. The same way he always did.
"Beth, I owe you an apology for what happened that day."
His voice was soft, coaxing. "I panicked. I was so worried about Jeanette's foot that I assumed you were fine, and I didn't get to you in time. Don't hold it against me, okay?"
Beth pulled her hand free.
Melvin sighed. "I already had someone look into it. The rig was tripped by a power cable. It wasn't your fault. And I was wrong to say those things in front of everyone. So we're even now, aren't we?"
A bitter laugh flickered through Beth's mind. Even?
Jeanette had broadcast that humiliating video in front of the entire crowd. Melvin had shoved her into a collapsing lighting rig to protect Jeanette, then left her half-dead on the floor. And now one sentence was supposed to make them even?
Beth closed her eyes. She didn't want to look at him. Everything hurt, and she didn't have the energy for a single word more.
Melvin took her silence for fatigue. He tucked the blanket around her. "Get some rest. I'll be right here."
The words had barely left his mouth when his phone rang.
He glanced at the screen and picked up immediately:
"Jeanette? What's wrong? Your foot's hurting again? What did the doctor say? Don't cry. I'm on my way."
He hung up and stood, pulling on his jacket:
"Beth, Jeanette says her foot is really hurting. I'm going to go check on her. I'll be back soon."
Beth didn't open her eyes. She didn't answer.
Melvin paused at the door and looked back at her. He seemed about to say something, but in the end said nothing, and left.
Beth lay alone in the empty hospital room, staring at the pile of expensive gifts and the white lisianthus on the nightstand.
She laughed. He actually thought she cared about any of this.
When had Beth Cox, heiress to the Cox Group, ever cared about things? What she'd cared about, the only thing she'd ever cared about, was him.
Did he really believe it was still the same as before? That a few sweet words and some gifts could make her smile through her tears and forgive him?
Not anymore. The moment the divorce was finalized and her visa came through, she would disappear from his life without a backward glance.
She reached out, pulled the lisianthus from the vase, and dropped them into the trash.
The gifts she gave away to the nurses looking after her, every last one.
The nurses crowded together, buzzing with delight:
"Mrs. Henson, Mr. Henson spoils you rotten! Look at all the things he got you!"
"Mrs. Henson is so lucky. I wish I had a husband that good!"
Beth smiled, a thin, self-mocking curve. A good husband. The words landed in her ears now as nothing more than a cruel joke.
The day she was discharged, Melvin didn't come. Beth called a car herself. As it neared the gated community, she looked up at the sky full of stars and decided to get out and walk.
She strolled alone down the tree-lined path, letting the cool night breeze wash over her, and for the first time in a while, something in her chest loosened.
Then she heard someone behind her. Before she could turn, a needle pierced the side of her neck, and something ice-cold flooded into her veins.
A man's voice cackled behind her. "Finally. Payback time."
第5章
When Beth woke, the back of her skull throbbed like it was splitting apart.
She was lying on the ground, hands bound behind her, the restraints biting into her wrists. A few yards away, Jeanette was tied up too, duct tape over her mouth, eyes rimmed red, muffled whimpers spilling out nonstop.
A bald man with a knife scar across his face stood in the center of the room. Melvin was at the door, chest heaving, eyes bloodshot.
The man held a knife, staring at Melvin with something unhinged in his gaze:
"Melvin Henson! You put me away for five years. My wife left. My mother died, and I never got to see her one last time! Today, I'm going to show you what it feels like to wish you were dead!"
Melvin raised his hands, voice hoarse and thin: "Whatever you want, take it out on me! Let them go!"
The man laughed, wild and unrestrained:
"Attorney Henson, one of these women is your wife, the other's your little sweetheart. You only get to take one. Don't say I didn't give you a chance! Whoever you pick walks out alive. The other one? I'll make her wish she'd never been born. That's what you owe me!"
Melvin's face went white. His fists clenched at his sides.
Beth watched him. She saw his eyes dart between her and Jeanette, back and forth, back and forth. His lips trembled. His throat worked. Sweat beaded across his forehead.
She waited. She told herself he would choose her.
They were husband and wife. She was the woman he'd married before God and everyone. She'd fought her own family for him, helped him build his firm from nothing, stood beside him through every lean year until they reached this point. He had to remember that.
Beside her, tears streamed down Jeanette's face. She shook her head frantically, choking out garbled sobs through the tape:
"Mr. Henson, I don't want to die! I still want to stand by your side and fight for justice for all those victims!"
Melvin flinched. He turned to Jeanette, and his eyes filled with something that looked like anguish.
He closed his eyes. The words scraped out of his throat: "I choose Jeanette."
Those three words were three knives, each one driving into Beth's chest, one after another, until she couldn't breathe.
Her ears rang. Her mind went blank. She thought she would scream, thought she would cry, but nothing came.
She just looked at him. Like she was looking at a stranger.
No. A stranger wouldn't have been able to hurt her like this.
Melvin's voice grew more urgent, as if he were trying to convince her, or maybe trying to convince himself:
"Beth, I'm sorry. Jeanette is a rising star in the legal world. You can't imagine her talent. The cases she'll take on, the people she'll help, there are so many. If she lives, she can put more monsters like this behind bars! You don't want these criminals walking free either, right?"
"Beth, you're the Cox family heiress. You have money, resources. Even if you get hurt today, you'll be fine. But Jeanette is different. She has nothing. All she has is me. I can't just abandon her!"
Beth listened to every word. A bleak smile spread across her face.
She bit down on her lower lip, hard, until she tasted blood, just to keep herself from falling apart completely.
Jeanette's ropes were cut. She threw herself into Melvin's arms, sobbing so hard her whole body shook.
He held Jeanette and walked toward the exit. When he passed Beth, he stopped.
"Beth, I'll come back for you. I promise. Just hold on."
Beth looked into his eyes. There was guilt in them, and reluctance, but not a shred of hesitation.
The heavy iron door of the warehouse slammed shut.
The bald man crouched down in front of Beth, a sickening grin on his face:
"Mrs. Henson, your husband picked her. How does it feel to be thrown away? The lawfully wedded wife, and you still lost to some little assistant. Looks like your husband thinks of you as garbage, tossed out without a second thought!"
Beth closed her eyes. She said nothing.
The man kicked her square in the chest. Her body flew backward, her spine slamming into the wall. The fractures from before tore open like fresh wounds, and the pain turned her vision black.
He walked over, knife in hand, and pried her right pinky finger open:
"Five years in that hellhole, they broke two of my fingers. I'm only taking one of yours. Count yourself lucky, and tell that bastard Henson he got off easy!"
The knife came down.
Beth felt the blade bite into skin, slice through muscle, scrape against bone. The agony ground through her inch by inch. Her body convulsed. Tears and sweat ran together down her face, and a raw, ragged scream tore from her throat.
Before she blacked out, only one thought crossed her mind.
Back in design school, her professor had told her that the right pinky was what steadied your grip on the pen. Without it, your lines would shake. Your stone settings would be crooked.
Did this mean she would never be a designer again?
In the darkness of despair and pain, her consciousness slipped under.
When she woke again, Beth found herself in a VIP suite at a private hospital.
The man sitting at her bedside was the last person she expected: her father, who had been managing the family business in Australia all this time.
The moment he saw her eyes open, Irvin Cox's face crumpled with heartache:
"Beth, why didn't you tell me you'd been suffering like this? Your finger's been reattached. It's going to be okay, sweetheart. Someone dared to do this to my daughter. I will make sure they pay for every last bit of it."
Her father stroked her hair gently. She had so much she wanted to tell him, so many grievances bottled up inside, but the pain and exhaustion pulled her under, and before she knew it, she had drifted off again.
Early the next morning, Beth was jolted awake by a door slamming open.
Melvin stormed in, face twisted with rage, and hurled a stack of documents onto her hospital bed:
"Beth Cox, you vicious woman! Is using your family's power to crush people the only thing you know how to do?!"
第6章
Beth stared at Melvin. "What did you just say?"
His voice exploded through the hospital room, raw with fury:
"Drop the act! Your father pressured the Bar Association into filing a professional misconduct complaint against Jeanette. They're holding a disciplinary hearing, and she could lose her license! Is that what you wanted? Are you happy now?"
He grabbed Beth by the arm and dragged her out.
The hearing was held in a conference room. Three investigators sat behind a long table, and both sides of the gallery were packed with lawyers and spectators.
Jeanette sat in the respondent's chair, face pale, tears clinging to her lashes, yet a thread of stubborn defiance in her voice:
"I truly had no idea that USB drive contained a video from a psychiatric hospital. Someone set me up! I have no grudge against Mrs. Henson. Why would I ever do something like that?"
One of the investigators pressed a button on the projector. Surveillance footage filled the screen: on the day of the anniversary gala, Jeanette stood at the control console, pulled a USB drive from her own purse, and plugged it into the media player.
Jeanette's mouth fell open. Not a single word came out.
Murmurs rippled through the gallery:
"So she really did it on purpose! That's disgusting!"
"She wanted to destroy Mrs. Henson's reputation. A lawyer who breaks the law on purpose doesn't deserve to practice!"
A middle-aged woman shot to her feet and pointed straight at Jeanette:
"You have the nerve to cry? Mrs. Henson was humiliated in front of hundreds of people because of you, and you're still playing innocent!"
Another voice followed: "Morally unfit to practice! Revoke her license!"
Jeanette hugged herself, trembling head to toe, tears streaming faster than before.
Beth stood in the doorway, watching it all. There was no satisfaction in her chest, no pity either. The whole scene felt like a circus that would never end, and she was bone-tired of it.
A water bottle sailed from the gallery and struck Jeanette's shoulder. She screamed, threw her arms over her head, and crouched down.
A binder followed. Then a notebook, pens, a drinking glass. Security rushed forward but couldn't contain the crowd's fury.
"Enough!"
A firm male voice cut through the chaos. Melvin charged up to the front in full view of everyone.
He pulled Jeanette behind him and spread his arms wide, shielding her. A glass tumbler caught him square on the forehead with a sharp crack. The glass shattered. Blood ran down from his brow, tracing a line past his eye.
He didn't flinch. He didn't wipe it away. He faced the room and spoke, his voice ringing out like a closing argument in court:
"That USB drive was mine! She had no idea what was on it! All responsibility falls on me!"
The room went dead silent.
Behind him, Jeanette clutched the hem of his jacket, shaking her head through her tears. "Attorney Henson, don't... You can't take the blame for me."
Melvin didn't turn around. He simply reached back and kept her shielded, his voice softening: "Jeanette, listen to me. Your talent shouldn't be destroyed by something like this. You're the future of the legal profession, and I have to protect you."
He turned back to the room, and his voice rang like steel:
"Jeanette Pruitt is the most gifted young attorney I have ever seen! Her litigation skills, her legal acumen, her commitment to justice surpass anyone her age! If we let a baseless accusation destroy her career today, it will be a loss for the entire profession!"
Blood still trickled down his forehead, but his back was ramrod straight, his eyes blazing with the conviction of a man defending a sacred cause:
"If someone has to face disciplinary action, discipline me! If someone has to pay the price, revoke my license! I will bear every consequence for Jeanette, because she is worth it!"
Jeanette lifted her head and gently took his hand.
Beth watched the scene before her, her gaze ice-cold.
The two of them stood side by side on that stage like comrades facing a common enemy, like lovers bound by life and death.
Her hands began to tremble. She wanted to laugh at how absurd it was, how utterly, impossibly absurd.
She remembered Melvin's first time in court, visibly nervous, and how she'd sat in the gallery and given him a thumbs-up. He'd taken a deep breath, straightened his spine, and won the case.
She remembered when he wanted to open his own firm but had no connections and no capital. She'd gone on a hunger strike against her own family to secure the Cox Group's backing. On opening day, he'd held her hand and said, "Beth, I will never let you down. Not in this lifetime."
She remembered the night he won the Elite Attorney Award. He'd looked straight at her from the stage and said, "I want to thank my wife, Beth Cox. Without her, I wouldn't be standing here today."
Now he stood on a different stage, bleeding for another woman, swearing oaths for another woman, gambling everything he treasured without a second's hesitation.
He said she was worth it. Then what about Beth Cox?
She had spent years by his side, loving him with everything she had, giving up her own career, helping him climb from a nobody to the youngest elite attorney in Harbor City.
What was she worth? Nothing. She was worth nothing.
Beth let out a cold laugh, loud enough to turn every head in the room. She walked straight up to Melvin, contempt etched across her face, and spoke one deliberate word at a time:
"Since Attorney Henson feels so strongly, the Cox Group is pulling every cent of its investment from his firm. Effective immediately. Your little firm? Shut. Down."
"Melvin, the building your firm sits in belongs to the Cox Group. The capital belongs to the Cox Group. Even your earliest clients came through Cox family connections. Without the Cox family, you are nothing. Who exactly do you think you are? What do you have left to protect her with?"
She turned to Jeanette. "And you. Get out of the firm. Now. And I promise you, not a single firm in Harbor City will ever take you in."
Melvin's face flushed crimson, his lips trembling. Jeanette went white, her fingers digging into his hand.
The room was silent as a grave.
Then Jeanette pulled out her phone, faced the crowd, and spoke:
"Everyone, I have a piece of evidence. I didn't want to use it, but today, I'm going to show all of you exactly what kind of person Beth Cox really is!"
第7章
She tapped play, and a woman's voice spilled from the phone speaker:
"I'll pay you two million dollars. You pretend to kidnap both me and Jeanette, then make Melvin choose between us. I want to see who matters more to him."
It was Beth's voice.
Beth froze. She had never said those words. She had never even met the kidnapper. How was this possible?
The room erupted. A tidal wave of noise crashed over her, voices overlapping, accusations flying from every direction.
Melvin turned to look at her. Shock gave way to fury, and fury hardened into something glacial:
"Beth! Have you lost your mind? You're actually capable of something like this?"
"I didn't do it! That recording is fake! Jeanette set me up!"
Melvin let out a cold laugh. "Fake? You're still lying, even now? You think I can't recognize your own voice?" He turned to the bailiffs. "Escort this suspect to the detention center. She orchestrated a kidnapping."
Before Beth could react, two officers seized her arms from either side.
In the interrogation room, the officer across the table asked, "Mrs. Henson, would you like to have your husband serve as your defense attorney?"
Before she could answer, the door swung open. Melvin walked in with Jeanette trailing behind him. He set a file on the table and slid it toward the officer.
"These are Beth Cox's psychiatric records. Bipolar disorder, with a documented history of manic episodes. She's extremely dangerous. I recommend housing her with the maximum-security inmates."
"And no, I won't be representing her. On the contrary, if the victim, Jeanette Pruitt, requires counsel, I'll serve as her prosecuting attorney."
Beth stared at him, trembling so violently she could barely stay upright. A thousand words jammed in her throat. She wanted to explain, to scream, to curse him until her voice gave out. None of it mattered. The heavy iron door slammed shut in front of her, cutting off the last sliver of daylight.
The forty-eight hours she spent in that detention center would stay with her for the rest of her life.
They put her in a cell full of violent offenders. Several women circled her, grinning. They slapped her across the face, kicked her in the stomach, stomped on her shins. Someone ripped the gauze off her right hand and ground a lit cigarette into the freshly reattached pinky finger.
She blacked out from the pain more than once, only to be jolted awake by cold water thrown in her face. Then the beating resumed.
Forty-eight hours later, the iron door opened.
"Beth Cox. The investigation is complete. The recording was forged. You're free to go."
She stood. Her body was a map of damage: bruises mottled her face, dried blood crusted along her hairline. She braced one hand against the wall and made her way out, one slow step at a time.
Outside the detention center, the sunlight was blinding. Melvin leaned against his car. When he saw her, he frowned.
"What happened to you?"
Beth said nothing. Her gaze drifted past him, flat and empty, fixed on something far away.
He sighed.
"Beth, this whole thing was just a little lesson for you. Stop letting jealousy drive you to pull stunts like that. Behave yourself, and I'll still treat you as the one and only Mrs. Henson."
He was still talking when she turned and walked away. She never once looked at him.
It happened to be the last day of the mandatory cooling-off period. Beth went to the courthouse and picked up her divorce certificate.
She thought of that night a month ago, when Melvin had signed the papers, too drunk to read what was in front of him. He still had no idea what he'd put his name to.
He thought she was just throwing a tantrum. Using every trick to get his attention. He thought she still loved him that much. Thought she could never leave.
He didn't know she had stopped wanting any of it a long time ago.
Beth went home, packed a single bag, and booked the earliest flight to Paris.
At the airport, she pulled out her old SIM card and threw it away. She snapped in a new one and sent a message to Carol: "The divorce is final. I land tomorrow."
The plane lifted off. Beth watched through the window as the city shrank beneath her, block by block, street by street, until it was nothing.
She would never come back.