After graduation, he was building his
Company and often met with clients to drink.
One night, he drank too much and was rushed
to the hospital. Doctors said his kidneys were
failing. We learned he needed a transplant,
but he could not find a match, but I did, we
had the same blood type.
I found a doctor and signed a donation
agreement, making it clear I did not want
Ethan to know. He thought the hospital had
found an anonymous donor.
I am terrified of needles. But on the operating
table, I mustered every ounce of courage I
had.
After the surgery, I quietly felt happy, knowing
he was getting better.
Then, there was my journal, filled with details
about Ethan’s likes and dislikes, and our life
together.
All that love and happiness I thought we
shared was just me being delusional.
I threw the ring, the journal, and the donation
agreement in the trash.
Along with my burning heart
Ethan’s mom found me in the living room,
and her expression was a mix of pity and
annoyance.
She never liked me. She thought I was
beneath Ethan. She accepted me after Ethan
said he wanted to marry me.
Now I was an ex–con; she hated me even
more.
“Now that you’re divorced, stay away from
Ethan.”
It was a warning.
I laughed. I didn’t have the energy to chase
him. All I wanted was for Ethan to stay away
from me.
The maid gave me a disgusted look. They all
thought I was a crazy woman, jealous enough
to stab Lily.
Autumn was cold.
I was freezing, and my body was starting to
ache, and the scar on my left side was
throbbing.
I left the Cole mansion. I had no job, I was
broke, and I was unemployable. Finally, I
found a job as a barmaid.
I saw Ethan drinking at a table with his
friends. They started teasing me.
“Well, if it isn’t the criminal who went to jail
for love.”
く
“What was her name again?”
“Olivia?”
One of them sneered, puffing on a cigarette,
“Should I call you my brother’s ex–wife?”
“We’re divorced!” Ethan was quick to
distance himself from me.
“Come on, come pour a drink for your old
buddy.”
His words made me uncomfortable.
I didn’t want to lose my job.
I gritted my teeth and filled his glass.
“Drink up!”
“I can’t drink.”
I wasn’t supposed to drink while taking my
medication.
“Don’t you know how to have fun?” He
persisted.
I glanced at Ethan, hoping he would say
something.
His face was unreadable, but he didn’t say
anything.
I drank the beer, and he kept pouring me
more and more.
“I really can’t drink anymore.”
Г
I refused. He got angry, grabbed a bottle of
beer, and poured it over my head.
I was freezing.
The humiliation was like a knife, stabbing my
soul.
I clenched my hands, digging my nails into my
skin.
When I had first arrived at the prison, I was
unaware of the rules and offended one of the
prison leaders.
I was beaten. I was scared, but I reported it to
the guards, and then the beating became
much worse.
I was stripped of my clothes and beaten. They
threw me against the wall and I thought I was
going to die.
After they hurt me, they warned me never to
tell anyone.
I was like a bird, afraid to speak.
I began to give them some of my food.
Slowly, I was getting beat less and less.
My health started to deteriorate.
I went into a deep depression.
I could not sleep. One day, I fell over at work.
The doctor gave me some medication.
I have been taking them for three years.
I held my head, cowering in the corner.
I couldn’t breath.
