First Love Took My All, Next Husband Made Me Whole

The old woman’s hand fell heavily to Kimberly’s side, and the pale color drained from her lips, turning them a lifeless shade of bluish-purple.

Kimberly stood frozen, staring blankly at the still body on the bed. Her lips trembled as she whispered, almost soundlessly, “Grandma…?”

Her voice cracked. Her shaking hands reached for the old woman’s, but they were already cold—utterly devoid of life.

“Grandma!”

The scream tore from Kimberly’s chest, raw and broken. It felt as if all the blood in her body had rushed straight to her head, leaving her trembling and gasping for air.

A doctor beside her quietly handed her a small recording pen. “This was left for you while the patient was still conscious. Please… accept our condolences.”

Kimberly’s fingers trembled as she pressed play. Then came that familiar and gentle voice of her grandmother—so soft and kind it nearly broke her.

“Kimberly, sweetie, leave this place. Leave Wilford, that bastard. My dear, you deserve better.”

The moment those words played, Kimberly’s tears burst forth uncontrollably.

The death of her grandmother shattered the last chain Wilford had wrapped around her heart.

With her soul hollowed out, Kimberly handled the funeral arrangements herself. She knelt before the altar for three days and three nights straight.

Only when her body finally gave out and she was rushed to the hospital did she get any rest at all.

When she woke, she found an email from the immigration office waiting for her. Without hesitation, she signed the confirmation papers.

She was ready to leave, ready to disappear for good.

But just as she began to pack her things and head for the airport, Khloe stormed into her hospital room.

The sight of her made Kimberly’s blood boil. She wanted nothing more than to tear that manipulative liar in front of her apart.

“What are you doing here?” she spat. “You’re not welcome here!”

Khloe only smirked and tossed a small urn at Kimberly’s feet.

“Why, I came to bring you a gift,” she answered, her tone mocking.

Kimberly froze. The urn lay on its side—empty.

Her pupils contracted sharply. In a blink, she lunged forward and grabbed Khloe by the throat.

“Bitch! Where are my Grandma’s ashes?!” she screamed. “Where did you throw them?!”

Khloe’s face turned red from the pressure, but there wasn’t a trace of fear in her expression. Instead, there was only arrogance and cruelty.

“Ashes? It’s just a pile of useless dust,” she said nonchalantly with a sneer. “I fed them to the dogs!”

A sharp crack echoed through the room as Kimberly slapped her with every ounce of strength she had left.

But before she could strike again, the door burst open with a deafening crash. Wilford stormed in.

The moment he saw Khloe’s swollen, tear-streaked face, his own expression twisted in anguish. Without a word, he hit Kimberly hard in the chest.

The impact sent her sprawling to the floor, a mouthful of blood spilling from her lips.

“Kimberly!” he roared. “You’re a fucking insane!”

Insane?

A bitter laugh escaped her cracked lips. “You think this is madness?” she whispered. “I can show you madness.”

Before anyone could react, she snatched a vase from the corner table and brought it crashing down on Wilford’s head.

The vase shattered into a thousand pieces, glass flying everywhere—one shard slashing a long, jagged line across Khloe’s cheek.

Her shrill scream tore through the ward.

Blood sprayed. Chaos erupted.

Kimberly’s eyes were burning red, wild with grief and fury, but soon, security rushed in and pinned her down.

Despite the blood streaming from his forehead, Wilford still reached out to cradle Khloe in his arms.

His voice was trembling as he comforted her. “It’s okay, Khloe. I’m here. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

Khloe pressed her hands over her wounded face, her tone sharp and hysterical.

“That bitch! She did it on purpose! She wanted to ruin my face!”

She turned her head to Wilford, sobbing, “Wilford! Don’t you dare let her go! I want her dead!”

Her carefully crafted image of sweetness was gone, replaced by the madness beneath.

The ward was a wreck, glass and blood scattered everywhere.

Kimberly struggled against the guards, desperate to gather the shattered remains of the urn from the floor to piece them back together.

But before she could, Wilford stepped forward and crushed her hand under his shoe.

“Wilford!” she shouted. “Let me go! You know what she did! She fed my grandma’s ashes to a dog!”

His face twisted with rage. “Kimberly, your grandma’s dead!” he shouted. “The ashes are gone, so what? But you—how dare you hurt Khloe again! I’ll never forgive you for that!”

Kimberly’s laughter bubbled up again, hollow and haunting.

Her tear-filled eyes glinted with madness as she looked at him.

“So what are you going to do this time?” she asked bitterly. “Slap me a hundred times? Drown me? Force me to drink until I collapse?”

Her voice cracked into a sob. “Wilford, this time… I won’t let you win.”

For a brief second, Wilford froze.

What did she mean—this time she wouldn’t let him win?

Before he could make sense of it, the door slammed open again.

A group of police officers poured into the room.

“Wilford Vanrugh. Khloe Jolie. You are both under arrest for illegal imprisonment and attempted murder. You’ll need to come with us.”

Everything happened so fast that Wilford stood there in stunned disbelief.

But years in the corporate world taught him to recover quickly. His face darkened as he sneered, “Do you know who I am? Do you have any idea what your bosses would say if I told them about this? You think you can just arrest me?”

He had no idea how Kimberly had managed to bring the officers to dare arrest him.

He tried to intimidate them with his name, still clinging to the power and arrogance that had protected him for so long—until a familiar voice echoed.

“They might not dare. But I do.”

Wilford’s eyes widened when he turned around to see whose voice it was.

There, standing in the doorway, was his long-time rival—Wayne Gardner.

Ignoring everyone else, Wayne crossed the room and pulled Kimberly into his arms.

His expression softened with a smile full of regret and tenderness.

“Baby,” he murmured, “I’m sorry. I’m late.”