His Neglected Wife Turns the Tables

"Imogen, don't be scared! I'm coming right now!"

Wilbert barked the order while already twisting around to shout at the driver, "Turn the car around—go to Imogen's place. Now!"

The driver froze, looking conflicted. "Sir, today is the family banquet—"

"Shut up!" Wilbert's dark eyes surged with fury. "Her house is on fire. I'm not leaving her alone!"

Before the driver could respond, Wilbert lunged into the driver's seat and slammed his foot onto the accelerator.

The car tore through the streets, racing toward Imogen's home.

Billowing black smoke smothered the sky. Neighbors fled in panic, keeping as far away from the flames as possible.

Only Wilbert charged straight toward the burning building as if his own life meant nothing.

His assistant tried to restrain him. "Mr. Patel! The firefighters are already inside—you don't need to risk your life!"

But Wilbert shoved him aside coldly. "Move."

Solana watched his silhouette disappear into the smoke and stairs.

Her eyes reddened; the corner of her lips lifted in a hollow, mocking curve.

A year ago, she'd been traveling when a sudden earthquake struck. She was trapped under rubble for three days before being rescued.

She remembered watching others reunite with their loved ones—one by one.

While she waited alone.

A week passed, yet no one came.

She had clung to her half-broken phone, searching for a signal through the ruins—just to call Wilbert.

After a hundred failed attempts, the call finally connected.

She, who rarely cried, broke down for the first time over the phone.

"Wilbert... the place I'm staying at—there was an earthquake—"

Before she even finished, his cold voice sliced through her trembling words.

"Find the rescue team. I'm busy. Figure out your own way back."

After saying that, he hung up.

In that mechanical beeping tone, Solana felt what it meant for a heart to die.

Yet she still forced herself to believe, He was just emotionally cold. He treated everyone like this.

But today, watching him rush into a burning building for another woman without hesitation, she finally understood.

Her hope had always been nothing but a tragic, lonesome joke.

...

An hour later, Wilbert stumbled out of the smoke, carrying Imogen in his arms.

His prized custom suit had been burnt into ash—nothing left but ruined fabric clinging to his frame.

He didn't care at all. His entire focus was the unconscious girl in his arms.

"Imogen, are you hurt? Does anything feel wrong?"

Solana watched calmly, though a bitter smile tugged at her lips.

The next second, a loud thud sounded.

"Wilbert! Wilbert, what's wrong?! Wake up!"

Solana snapped her head toward the sound.

Wilbert had collapsed.

His right arm was scorched black. His back was soaked in blood, his shirt shredded and burned.

He had taken such severe injuries... Yet he had never uttered a single sound.

...

Three hours later, the emergency operation finally ended.

The Patel family rushed over in chaos. The banquet dissolved instantly as all the elders arrived with pale faces.

"Although Mr. Patel pulled through..." The doctor sighed heavily after reviewing the results.

"The injuries are far too serious. Combined with the delay in treatment... I'm afraid his right hand will be permanently disabled."

"What?!"

Madam Patel staggered, face drained of color, nearly collapsing. "Disabled? You're saying my son's hand is ruined?!"

The elders present exchanged grim looks.

The heir of the Patel family became a cripple?

It was impossible to accept.

Something flashed across Madam Patel's expression. Her face twisted with fury.

"Who? Who did this to my son?!"

She grabbed a teacup and smashed it across the floor, her glare sweeping the room like a blade.

Her gaze landed on Imogen, trembling in a corner.

Her eyes sharpened instantly. She lunged forward, yanking Imogen's hair and dragging her out.

"Was it you, you little tramp? You nearly killed my son—I'll beat you to death!"

Imogen screamed, tears spilling down her face. "N-No... It wasn't me..."

Suddenly her eyes darted around—then fixed on Solana.

Her trembling finger shot up. "It was her! She threw a tantrum and demanded Mr. Patel go inside to coax her! It has nothing to do with me!"

"You—stop lying!" Solana snapped her head up, fury blazing through her. "You were the one who called him. Don't you dare push this onto me!"

Madam Patel hesitated, her sharp stare turning toward Solana.

Solana met her gaze calmly, her lips curving into a cold arc.

"If you don't believe me, check the call logs. That will tell you everything."

Imogen's face drained even further, panic leaking from her eyes.

A bodyguard moved in to take her phone.

Just then—

"Stop!"

A voice rang out behind them.