I Took the Fall for Him, But He Married My Sister

A heavy iron gate scraped loudly against the ground. Beatrice Ford limped out from inside. Her three years behind bars were finally over. A Koenigsegg was parked right at the gate—its sleek luxury a stark contrast to the cold, bleak surroundings. When Zander Green saw her, he pushed himself off the car and stood up straight. He strode over, placed his hands on her shoulders, his eyes glistening, and said, his voice hoarse and choked with emotion, "Beatrice, you've been through so much these past three years." Just that one sentence made Beatrice break down in tears. Three years ago, Zander had been driving drunk and had hit and killed someone. She had taken the blame for him. She'd endured unspeakable torture behind bars—they'd even broken her leg, leaving her crippled. As long as Zander still loved her the way he used to, she thought it would all be worth it. Back then, the Green family's inheritance battle was at its most intense. She still remembered Zander, his face covered in blood, saying desperately, "I can't go to jail. If I do, I'll lose everything!" Beatrice had loved him since she was seventeen—from seventeen to twenty-three, and now twenty-six. She couldn't bear to see him lose everything, so she said without hesitation, "I'll take the fall for you. I was driving. I killed that person." She would never forget the look in Zander's eyes that day. It was so full of love and passion. He pulled her into his arms and promised, "Beatrice, I'll never let you down. I'll marry you. I'll love you forever—I swear it!" After three years of living a nightmare in prison, Beatrice suddenly sat in a luxury car, feeling completely out of place. She shifted uncomfortably, and her fingers brushed against something. Beatrice picked it up—and it was a wedding photo. The people in the picture were Zander and Wenda Ford—Beatrice's half-sister. Beatrice felt as if she'd been struck by lightning. Wenda had been in the car during the crash, too. She'd gotten the least hurt, but she'd run away first, not even checked on them. It was Beatrice who had risked the car exploding to drag the injured, immobile Zander out. Beatrice stared again. Wenda wore a wedding dress, smiling sweetly as she linked arms with Zander. She wasn't mistaken. Tears flooded her eyes at once. Beatrice clutched her chest and gasped for breath. In prison, she'd been burned with cigarette butts, whipped with belts, cut with knives, and had her leg broken. There were so many times she'd felt like giving up. But Zander had visited her every month. He told her again and again that they'd get married once she was free. That was the only thing that kept her alive in prison. She'd waited and hoped, then finally waited for the day she was released. But Zander had already broken his promise. He'd married Wenda—the same girl who'd abandoned him during the crash and run for her life. While Beatrice had been forced to bark like a dog, lick food off the floor, and be stripped and tortured, Zander had been building a happy life with Wenda. Zander noticed her strange behavior and asked worriedly, "Beatrice, what's wrong? Are you feeling unwell?" Three years in prison had taught Beatrice to hide her pain and stay quiet. If she cried out when hurt or sad, she'd only be beaten worse. She quickly shook her head and said, "I'm fine." Zander fell silent for a moment, then asked, "What happened to your leg?" Beatrice's heart felt like it was being torn apart. She was afraid she'd burst into tears if she said more. She lied casually, "I just fell." Zander sighed and said, "Good. I had people looking out for you in there, so you shouldn't have suffered too much." 'Haven't suffered too much?' Beatrice let out a bitter laugh.