The Abandoned Bride

Episode 2

Elena was caught off guard when Peter’s kick sent her crashing to the ground. Pain shot through her body as she instinctively shielded her stomach. Before she could speak, his palm cracked across her face.

"You wretch! How could you drive Avery to suicide? It should be you who’s dead!" Peter’s words dripped with venom, his hatred at its peak.

"Dad, stop," Avery’s tearful voice trembled from the hospital bed. "It’s just that Damien and I weren’t meant to be. I don’t blame Elena."

Blood trickled from Elena’s lip. Her vision blurred, but she still caught sight of Avery nestled against Damien, tears shimmering in her eyes.

He held her gently, his handsome features softened with endless tenderness.

The warmth of the scene pierced Elena like a blade.

If fate hadn’t interfered, Avery would have been Damien’s wife. Not her. Not the unwanted third wheel.

Even though she wasn’t guilty of scheming, guilt pressed on her chest like a weight.

"Avery, even now you’re defending her?" Peter raged. "If not for her tricks, you’d already be the Salvatore family’s lady! Instead, you were driven to despair. And she still dares stand here? You’re too kind!"

"Dad, please…" Avery’s voice faltered, her eyes wet as she looked at Elena. "Elena, if you liked Damien, you should have told me. I wouldn’t have fought you. But why use such despicable means? I’m so disappointed."

"Avery, it wasn’t me…" Elena’s voice cracked.

"You dare deny it?" Peter’s face twisted with fury. "Fine. I’ll beat you to death!"

He snatched up a chair. Elena shrank back, arms tightening protectively over her stomach.

"Get out. Or die here." Damien’s cold voice slashed through the chaos.

Elena staggered to her feet, blood on her lip, her body screaming in pain. She wanted to cry out that she had never plotted against anyone—that she was innocent. But her voice drowned in their hatred, smothered by their accusations.

Damien’s jaw clenched. His eyes burned dark with rage, but not for Avery’s family who had struck her. His fury was aimed only at Elena.

"Enough," he snapped. "Haven’t you shamed yourself enough? Get out. Don’t let me see you again."

Her heart froze. For a moment she thought she misheard, but the disdain in his gaze left no doubt.

Her fingers clenched the hem of her dress, her trembling body forcing itself upright. Step by step, she walked away, silent, broken.

Behind her, Avery pressed deeper into Damien’s embrace, sobbing softly. "Damien… don’t leave me."

"I won’t," his voice gentled, tender in a way Elena had never known. "I’ll always be by your side, Avery."

The words struck her harder than any blow.

Outside the hospital, city lights blurred in Elena’s tear-filled eyes. She clutched her stomach, shielding the fragile life inside from a world that seemed determined to destroy her.

The whispers of onlookers stung her ears. She lowered her head, hurrying toward the entrance—then froze. Her phone was missing.

Reluctantly, she turned back.

The elevator doors slid open just as she arrived. Damien stepped out, his confident stance and striking features drawing stares as always.

Why was he leaving so soon? Shouldn’t he still be with Avery? Elena ducked her head and slipped into the elevator without a word.

Like a thief, she crept to Avery’s room. Her phone lay near the corner by the door. She bent to grab it—then froze.

Laughter spilled out. Avery’s laughter.

"Hah! Thinking about that thing getting beaten up, unable to lift her head—it feels so good!"

Thing? Elena’s stomach twisted.

"If I hadn’t gone to the wrong room that night, Damien would have been mine! How could that local girl get so lucky? Just imagining him with her makes me sick!"

"I planned everything perfectly," Avery continued, her tone sharp with rage. "I got Damien drunk, paid the media to catch us together, so the Salvatore patriarch would have to let me in. But I messed up the room number—ended up with some loser—while Elena took my place!"

"You fool!" Paula hissed.

"I just wanted to spice things up," Avery snapped. "I took some of the drug myself. How was I supposed to know it was that strong? Now what? I can’t stand that nobody taking my place as the Salvatore family’s daughter-in-law. Damien is mine!"

Peter’s voice rumbled with confidence. "That’s easy. You saw how worried he was about you. Say the word, and he’ll divorce her without hesitation."

Paula chuckled. "Your father is right. Damien only married that girl because the old man forced him. You’re the one he loves. Speak, and the title is yours."

Avery sneered. "What right does she have to compete with me? If her bone marrow didn’t match mine, she’d never have stepped foot in our house! Do you know how disgusting it feels to call her ‘sister’?"

Sister? My maid would be more fitting.

Elena’s body went cold. The Millers hadn’t taken her in out of kindness—they’d only needed her bone marrow. Five years of "sisterhood" had been a lie. She wasn’t family. She wasn’t even human to them. Just a tool.

How cruel. How ironic.

Her stomach churned as nausea rose.

"So annoying!" Avery complained. "I faked a suicide just to push Damien into divorcing her, but he suddenly had to rush off to some meeting."

So her "suicide" was nothing but a trick.

"Avery, don’t worry," Paula assured. "I’ll call Damien and tell him the witch came here, upset you, and drove you to attempt suicide again. He’ll divorce her immediately."

"Mom, brilliant. Let’s do it!"

Elena’s face drained of color. Her body stiffened, her breath shallow. The truth was finally clear—but far too cruel to bear.