Healer Mate Sent Me to Mental Institution

But I never expected that Victoria had recorded what happened in the visiting room.

Overnight, with Victoria's manipulation, the video spread like wildfire across every social platform.

Gossip blogs claimed that I had originally seduced Marcus to advance my position in the pack, and after being cast aside, had desperately tried the same tactics on Vincent.

Others said Victoria was Marcus's true love, or else why would he personally send his own mate to a mental hospital and force her to grovel in submission?

The rumors spread wildly, reaching my sister Alice's ears at the healing center.

Alice took her own life.

When the caretaker's call came through, Alice was already drawing her final breaths.

I knelt on the ground, frantically begging the healers to let me out to see Alice one last time.

But the healers told me helplessly that without Marcus's permission, no one was allowed to let me out.

Seeing the desperate plea in my eyes, one doctor took pity and offered to let me call Marcus directly. If he agreed, they would escort me to the healing center immediately.

I dialed Marcus's number with trembling hands, only to be ruthlessly hung up on.

I tried again. And again. And again—each attempt met with the same cold dismissal.

I prayed to the Moon Goddess that Marcus would answer, that some trace of the man who once loved me would let me say goodbye to the only family I had left.

On my eighty-ninth call, Victoria's voice answered instead: "Emma, it's my birthday today. Marcus is here in Iceland celebrating with me. Be reasonable and stop harassing us with these calls, won't you?"

Through the phone, I caught Marcus's distant voice: "Don't let irrelevant people ruin our mood. Come blow out your candles!"

The words hit me like silver bullets to the chest. Irrelevant people.

Alice was dying—my sister, my heart, my everything—and he called us irrelevant.

The Iceland trip was supposed to be the honeymoon Marcus had planned with me...

I spat out a mouthful of fresh blood from my chest.

Like a broken puppet, I was escorted back to the ward by orderlies.

A week later, Alice's caretaker brought her ashes. A portion was placed in a small pendant that I wore close to my chest.

The caretaker brought Alice's final words:

Sister, don't cry for me, and don't beg him anymore.

Like the games we played as children, I'll wait for you at the finish line in heaven.

Sister, I will always love you.

...

I clutched Alice's ashes, crying inconsolably. There was no one left in this world who was my family.

I don't know how long passed before I slowly stood up: "Alice, your sister loved the wrong man. Your sister's weakness killed you. But I swear on our parents' graves—everyone who destroyed us will pay a thousandfold for what they've done. "

Marcus returned from Iceland a month later.

Learning of Alice's death, he came to visit me with apologies, only to see me sitting motionless as stone.

When Marcus reached out tentatively to touch my shoulder, the ice in my stare stopped him cold.

"I'm very sorry about your sister."

"I'll compensate you. Victoria has forgiven you. I'll take you out of the hospital today."

...

Silence. Deathly silence.

After a long while, I finally spoke hoarsely: "Marcus, I never even got to see her one last time!"

"If certain people hadn't spent months telling her that her sister was a whore who spread her legs for anyone who'd have her, Alice would still be breathing."

"Do you know? I called you exactly 89 times. I didn't hate you anymore then. I just begged you to answer the phone and allow the doctors to let me out to see Alice!"

"But what about you? You were with Victoria in Iceland, celebrating her birthday!"

"Compensation? What will you compensate me with? Can you bring my sister back to life?"

Hearing my blood-soaked accusation, Marcus never expected that the truth behind Alice's death was like this: "I... I thought those were spam calls... If I had known it was you calling, I definitely would have let you see her one last time! I..."

...

"Three years."

I spoke hoarsely.

"What? What three years?" Marcus looked confused.

I laughed coldly, my eyes full of bloodlust: "Weren't you going to keep me locked in this mental hospital for three years?"

"Just three years. Consider it my gift to you!"

I removed the mate ring from my ring finger that Marcus had given me when he proposed. It was a diamond ring Marcus had carefully designed with an Italian designer, with both our initials engraved inside the band.

I threw the mate ring at Marcus's feet, turned decisively toward the ward, leaving Marcus and the past locked behind me.