His Regret, Her Vengeance

Chapter 3

Vivian awoke. The woman who had been lost to the world for three long years finally stirred back to life.

When Ethan saw her, he froze. Her glassy eyes held no recognition, only the vacant stare one gives a stranger.

For ten agonizing minutes, she stared at him unblinking before finally whispering, "Who are you?"

A sharp pang shot through Ethan's chest, his throat tightening painfully.

The doctor quickly explained, "She was comatose for too long, and with that severe brain trauma, her memories are likely gone. "

His jaw clenched, his eyes darkening with grief.

Vivian was his elder brother's fiancée, the girl he had secretly loved for ten years. Three years ago, she was supposed to marry Miles Bennett. But he had been selfish, demanding she choose between them.

Their argument turned violent in the car. Then came the horrific crash—a freight truck T-boning their Bentley with a deafening screech of metal. Miles died instantly. Vivian became little more than a breathing corpse.

Ethan's fists clenched until his knuckles cracked, guilt rising like bile in his throat.

"I remember," Vivian trembled. "A girl. Haunting me. It terrified me."

Before he could speak, she continued, her voice small. "Did I wrong her? Why would she torment me?"

Ethan's brow furrowed. Gently, he pulled her close, his voice a honeyed whisper. "Shh, you are safe now, Vivian. I will not let anyone hurt you."

She burrowed into his arms like a scared child.

Blinded by rage, he snapped at the butler. "Starve Quinn out. Let her learn what happens when she frightens Vivian. "

After three full days in the hospital, he finally discharged Vivian.

Meanwhile, Quinn had endured her own torment—three endless days trapped in that lightless cellar. Her crippling fear of the dark tormented her, while hunger gnawed at her insides like a wild animal. When starvation became unbearable, she dragged the blade across her wrist, drinking just enough blood to stay conscious. The wound barely healed before she ripped it open anew, until, just before blacking out, he finally showed up.

The cellar door creaked open. Light flooded in, harsh and blinding, and there he stood. Quinn instinctively raised a trembling hand against the glare. Through her fingers, she saw his face—once so familiar, now a stranger. Behind him stood that trembling, doe-eyed woman.

In one furious motion, Quinn launched herself forward. The slap landed with a sharp c***k, loud as a gunshot, her voice colder than steel. "Ethan, you should have died in that fire. I regret saving you."

His head snapped sideways from the impact, but then he smirked, licking blood from his split lip. "Still causing trouble, Quinn?"

She struck again before he could finish, her chest heaving with rage.

Then chaos erupted. The woman behind him suddenly charged like a mad dog, swinging a wooden rod. Quinn crumpled forward, helpless as the rod slammed into her bony back with a brutal thwack.

A pained whimper escaped her lips, her features twisting in torment.

For a heartbeat, shock flickered in Ethan's eyes. His arms were around her before he realized it, his voice tight, almost shaky—unlike him. "Are you okay? I will get you to a doctor." He bent to scoop her up.

Quinn shoved him away with a snarl, her eyes blazing with fury as she jabbed a finger at Vivian. "Ethan, you know I always pay back what I am owed."

Before he could blink, she lunged, summoning the last dregs of her strength. Her hand whipped across Vivian's cheek with a sharp c***k.

"No!"

Ethan's shout tore through the air as Vivian stumbled, losing her footing and pitching forward. At the same moment, Quinn, hollowed out by days of fear and hunger, collapsed like a marionette with cut strings.

Her skull met the wall's sharp edge with a brutal thud. Blood erupted from the jagged gash on her forehead, pooling crimson on the floor in a grotesque halo.

Vivian, yanked to safety by Ethan, now clung to him, shaking and sobbing like a wounded bird against his chest.

Ethan's gaze flickered to Quinn's broken body. "Vivian just woke up," he said coldly. "Stay put. I will have someone fetch you."

He walked away without a backward glance.

Blackness crept at the edges of Quinn's vision as she waited. No one came. Gritting her teeth, she hacked at her arm with the knife. The fresh wound's agony shocked her back from the brink.

She lurched toward the road, each step a battle, and hailed a cab, hauling herself to the emergency room—alone, as always.