The Blind Wife's Revenge

Chapter 2: A Blind Woman's Performance

Seraphina kept her eyelids heavy and still, forcing every muscle in her face to remain relaxed. She drew a slow, trembling breath through her nose, mimicking the fragile confusion of a woman still trapped in darkness.

"Adrian?" she murmured, her voice small and hesitant. She reached her hand out into the empty air, letting her fingers tremble slightly. "Is that you? I... I hear your voice, but everything is still pitch black. Why can't I see anything?"

Adrian caught her hand mid-air. His grip was warm, enclosing her fingers with the familiar, gentle pressure he had used for three long years.

"I'm right here, sweetheart," he said softly, smoothing his thumb over the back of her wrist. "Don't panic. The doctor said it might take time. Your eyes have been in the dark for years."

Seraphina felt a wave of nausea roll through her gut. Through her lowered lashes, hidden under the shadow of her brow, she opened her eyes just a fraction of a millimeter.

From this angle, she could see him clearly. Adrian was sitting on the edge of her mattress, leaning over her with a expression of heartbroken devotion. But as he spoke those comforting words, his eyes flicked toward the cracked door.

Over his shoulder, Seraphina caught the glimpse of Cassandra standing in the doorway.

Cassandra didn't step inside. She stood in the shadow of the threshold, arms crossed over her red silk dress, watching the performance with a slight, mocking curve on her red lips. She raised two fingers, silently tapping her wrist to signal Adrian to hurry up.

Adrian gave a barely visible nod in Cassandra's direction before turning back to Seraphina.

"The doctor is going to run a few more tests today," Adrian said, his voice dripping with gentle concern. "I have to step out for an emergency meeting at the office, but I'll be back tonight. I promised I'd take care of you, didn't I?"

"You're always so good to me," Seraphina whispered, letting a single tear fall down her cheek. It wasn't a tear of gratitude; it was born of absolute revulsion. "I don't know what I would do without you, Adrian."

"You'll never have to find out," he replied smoothly. He leaned down and pressed a soft kiss against her forehead.

Seraphina stiffened inwardly, fighting the violent urge to shove him away. The scent of his woodsy cologne was tainted now, carrying the faint, sweet perfume of Cassandra's floral spray.

Adrian stood up, patted her blanket one last time, and turned toward the door. As he reached the threshold, Cassandra stepped back into the hallway. Adrian joined her, pulling the heavy wooden door shut until only a tiny crack remained.

The moment the door closed, Seraphina sat up in bed.

She moved silently, slipping her thin legs over the side of the mattress. Her bare feet touched the cold linoleum floor. Her body was still weak from days of lying in bed, but rage fuelled her limbs, giving her an icy, steady focus.

She crept toward the door, keeping her shadow away from the frosted glass window. She pressed her ear close to the narrow crack near the hinge.

"Did she suspect anything?" Cassandra’s low voice drifted through the gap, sharp and impatient.

"Of course not," Adrian answered, his tone completely transformed. The gentle, loving husband was gone. In his place was a cool, indifferent man who sounded thoroughly bored. "She's completely blind, Cassandra. The surgery was a waste of money. She still can't see a damn thing."

"Good," Cassandra hissed, her voice laced with venom. "I was worried for a second when the doctor said the nerve repair was successful. If she had gained her sight back, she would have started asking questions about the company shares."

"She won't ask anything," Adrian said calmly. Seraphina heard the rustle of his suit jacket as he adjusted his cuffs. "She trusts me blindly. Literally. She thinks I'm her savior."

Cassandra let out a soft, cruel chuckle. "You really are a terrible actor, Adrian. But I suppose that's why I love you. How long are we going to keep up this hospital charade? I'm sick of waiting in the shadows while she gets all the sympathy."

"Just a little longer," Adrian replied. His voice dropped lower, but through the quiet hallway, every word reached Seraphina's ears like sharp glass. "The legal transfer of the Laurent estate is almost complete. Once her family's remaining assets are cleared and moved into Blackwood Enterprises, we don't need to play nurse anymore."

"And then?" Cassandra asked, her tone greedy.

"And then we file the papers," Adrian said smoothly. "She's an invalid. No court will grant her custody of her own inheritance, especially when her devoted husband has been managing it for three years. Once she's gone, everything will belong to us."

Once she's gone, everything will belong to us.

The words echoed in Seraphina's mind, freezing the blood in her veins.

She stood frozen behind the door, her fingers digging into the hard wood of the frame until her knuckles turned ghostly white. They weren't just stealing her dignity; they were systematically stripping away her family legacy, her home, her life—all while she lay in a hospital bed thanking them for their kindness.

Outside, the quiet click of Cassandra's high heels signaled their departure.

"Let's get lunch," Cassandra said, her voice fading down the corridor. "I want that expensive seafood place near the bay."

"Anything you want, babe," Adrian replied.

Their footsteps slowly died away, swallowed by the busy hum of the hospital.

Seraphina slowly backed away from the door. She looked around the plain, sterile room. For three years, she had believed this place was a sanctuary where her husband fought to bring her back to health. Now, she saw it for what it truly was: a cage.

She walked over to the small vanity mirror attached to the bathroom door.

She looked at her reflection for the first time in three years. Her face was pale, her cheeks slightly hollowed, but her eyes—deep, dark, and remarkably clear—were alive with an intense, burning fire.

There was no sadness left in them. No confusion. Only a lethal, razor-sharp clarity.

They thought she was a helpless, blind bird waiting to be crushed. They thought she would sit in the dark while they took everything her late father had built.

Seraphina raised her hand, slowly wiping away the single tear on her cheek.

"Everything will belong to you?" she whispered to her reflection, her voice cold and steady. "We'll see about that."

Suddenly, the silent air of her room was broken by the sharp, rhythmic vibration of a cell phone.

Seraphina turned. Adrian had left his secondary business phone sitting on the bedside table, hidden behind the tissue box.

She walked over and picked it up. The screen lit up with an incoming call from an unsaved, encrypted number. Beneath the number, a brief preview of a text message popped up on the lock screen.

Seraphina lowered her eyes and read the message:

The money was transferred to the clinic's off-shore account. Make sure the doctor keeps her quiet about the original brake failure report, or we're all going down.