After He Left Me to Die, I Ruled Finance

The moment I turned around, I saw Violet rushing straight toward me. "Sylas, my eyes are almost completely healed now," she said, her voice sounding like a pout as I watched her wrap both arms tightly around his neck. "When are you going to leave that woman? I hate seeing you being affectionate with her. It drives me absolutely crazy!" I watched Sylas gently stroke the top of her head, his touch light and familiar. "Don't talk about your sister-in-law that way," he replied. "Haven't I already stopped being close to her just for your sake? Besides, every time you felt upset because of her, I stood right there and took your side." His voice stayed as soft and calm as it always did, but hearing those words sent a cold chill running all the way through my bones. "Remember when you said the warm water she prepared turned too hot for you to drink? I told you to splash a whole basin of hot water right on her. And when you said she accidentally tore the dress on that doll you love? I told you to stab her. I was only protecting you!" But Violet would not let the subject drop. "Even after all that," she pressed, "you still slept with her for the ninety-fifth time!" Sylas shifted his posture, pulling her closer against him as he spoke to soothe her. "I've spent all my free time talking and staying with you, right? You're always the only one I give my attention to." I stood hidden around the corner, listening, and felt tears roll silently down my cheeks. Violet lifted her head from his chest and asked the exact question I had carried in my own heart for so long. "If you don't even like her anymore, why did you ever marry her in the first place?" I saw the way Sylas's expression changed, his shoulders slumped slightly, and his gaze drifted downward, looking weary and matter-of-fact. "She had been with me since high school," he said quietly. "She helped me find investors, and she stayed by my side all the way until the company went public. After everything we went through, I still have some attachment to her… Don't worry," he added, lifting one hand to brush a strand of hair away from her face. "Once she is completely unable to move or take care of herself, legally, she's still my wife, but my heart and my whole life will belong only to you." I do not remember how I found my way out of that building. My legs felt weak, and I stumbled forward without really seeing where I was going. When I finally came back to myself, night had fallen completely. My phone lit up in my lap, showing several voice messages from Sylas. "Lily, where did you go so late at night?" His tone sounded urgent, filled with what seemed like genuine worry. "Come home right away! Violet knows she was wrong. She's been crying for hours." There was a pause, then his voice softened further. "Please, don't be angry with her anymore." It was always the same pattern, every single time. No matter what Violet did, no matter how much harm she caused, I was always expected to just suffer in silence and let it go. I gave a bitter, empty smile and opened my social media feed. Right at the top was a new post from Violet. The photo showed Sylas walking beside her, carrying shopping bags, moving from one high-end boutique to the next all day long. At that moment, I was sitting in my wheelchair just outside the rehabilitation center. If he truly cared about me, how could he have passed by without noticing I was there? Raindrops began to fall, cold and heavy, and a sharp, throbbing pain shot through my injured back. Suddenly, I remembered the days right after I was first hurt. I spent every hour crying from the pain and the shock. Sylas would always sit beside me, holding me gently, whispering the same words over and over again. "Lily, don't worry. From now on, I am here for you. I will take care of everything." To calm my fear, he once picked up a hammer and struck his own hand hard enough to draw blood, right in front of my eyes. "This is my punishment," he had said, "to pay you back for what Violet did to you." Looking back, I had truly believed then that he loved me. I had seen how his face would look drawn and sorrowful whenever I went through the painful sessions of physical therapy. I knew he had hired top specialists from abroad to design my recovery plan. He even named a newly developed project for advanced artificial limbs after me, saying he wanted my story to be a symbol of hope for millions of people living with disabilities. But now, hearing what I had just heard, I finally understood. All that so-called devotion and love had been nothing but a carefully built lie from the very beginning. Just then, a new email notification popped up on my phone screen. Congratulations on passing your final interview. We would be pleased to offer you a position at our international investment bank, starting one week from today. Finally, something worth celebrating. I let out a long, deep breath, feeling a flicker of something other than pain or betrayal. I looked out across the river and saw hundreds of drones flying in formation, lighting up the dark sky to form a huge, glowing portrait of Violet. People walking along the bank stopped to stare, their faces open with envy and admiration. Meanwhile, from my waist down, I could feel almost nothing at all. The constant ache had turned into a dull, heavy numbness. I checked Sylas's profile next. Today marked the anniversary of the day Violet was first brought into our home. The post was pinned right at the very top. Forever remember this day… the day my light came into my life. If it hadn't been for this post, if I hadn't confronted him about it, Violet would never have thrown that wine bottle across the room by accident. It struck me hard enough to leave me with a skull fracture. Part of me wished I could have let this day pass without remembering what it truly meant. It was already deep into the night when I finally arrived back at the house. From behind the closed door of the master bedroom, I could hear soft laughter and quiet, playful whispers. The housekeeper glanced at me, her eyes nervous and her voice low as she spoke. "Violet refused to take her medicine. Mr. Sylas is in there right now, trying to persuade her." I froze where I stood. It felt as if all the blood in my body had turned cold and heavy, like ice in my veins. Now I understood why, every time I woke up alone in the middle of the night, Sylas was never beside me. I pressed my lips together, forcing down the sharp, rising pain in my chest, and tried not to picture what was happening behind that door. But then I heard Violet's voice, sweet and teasing, clear enough to cut through the wood. "Sylas, the medicine tastes too bitter. I want you to feed it to me just like you used to, please?" I heard a soft shifting of fabric, then Sylas's voice, low, warm, and utterly indulgent. "Alright. I will do whatever you want." Next came soft, satisfied sighs, mixed with wet, intimate sounds that made my skin prickle. Violet spoke again, her tone bright and proud. "Sylas, your mouth tastes so sweet. Your throat tastes sweet too… and so does everything else below." Sylas's reply came rougher, breathless and filled with desire, as I heard the sound of movement from inside. "Violet… stay still. We haven't finished the medicine yet." Five minutes later, all movement and sound faded. Then Violet's bright, happy laugh rang out clearly, followed by the soft, wet sound of kisses against her skin. I could not see what was happening, but the sounds alone made every muscle in my body tighten with tension. Violet let out another loud, satisfied moan. I clenched my fists so tight my nails dug into my palms. She had taken over my bedroom, my private space, the room that was supposed to belong to me and my husband. The only place left for me to sleep now was the small, narrow room meant for the house staff. But the moment I stepped inside that cramped, cold room, I felt a surge of hot anger rise up inside me, burning bright until my vision blurred red.