My Death Was My Revenge, His Regret Came Too Late

Westley dropped, yanking Natalia into his arms, shouting without even looking at me. “Amelia! Cover us!”

I drew my gun and ran forward, but I was weak, my body still recovering. I fired, dodged, tried to stay alive, but then—pain. A knife buried itself in my side and I collapsed, blood gushing. I barely had the strength to call his name. “W-westley…”

Through blurry vision, I saw him sprinting, carrying Natalia away without even looking back.

When I came to, the smell of medicine made me cough. The doctor’s voice shook. “Amelia… your pulse is weak… even with all the medicine, I’m not sure—”

Then Westley slammed his fist onto the table so hard the glass rattled. “What did you do to her? How much did she pay you to fake this?”

I barely opened my eyes and saw him standing over the doctor, face dark, eyes sharp. “Do everything you can. Keep her alive. If she dies, every one of you is going to answer to me.”

For days I floated in that haze of medicine and pain. My body ached, my back throbbed, I could barely tell night from day. I could hear whispers of the doctor, feel my wounds burning, feel my heart breaking all over again.

Finally, one morning, I opened my eyes and saw the green canopy over the bed. Footsteps came fast. Westley stepped in, dark suit, face unreadable, the pendant at his belt swinging slightly.

“You’re awake,” he said, crouching slightly. “Can you move? Are you in pain? Tell me everything, Amelia. Don’t hold back.”

I tried to sit up when Westley walked in. Reflex. But the second I moved, a sharp pain stabbed through my chest and I fell back against the pillow.

“Don’t move,” he said flatly. “Just lie down.”

I still forced myself halfway up, breathing through the pain. “You’re leaving somewhere?”

“Tomorrow,” he replied, already turning away. “There’s a gang on the Jersey side causing problems. I’m dealing with it.”

“I’ll come with you.” My voice came out hoarse. “I can still fight.”

“No.” The answer came instantly. “You stay here and watch Natalia.”

My fingers tightened on the blanket. “Understood.”

He walked toward the door but paused. His back stayed to me. “Remember something, Amelia. If anything happens to her while I’m gone…” The sentence hung there, heavy with threat.

“I’ll protect her with my life,” I said quietly.

The door shut. I stared at it for a long time. Funny. The wound in my chest hurt less than whatever that feeling was in my ribs.

During recovery I followed his order and stayed around Natalia. She made sure every minute felt miserable.

“Amelia, kneel.” She said it casually one afternoon in the backyard.

I looked at her. “What?”

“You heard me.” She smiled sweetly. “The sun feels nice today. Kneel here for a bit.”

So I knelt. The stone burned under my knees and sweat soaked the bandages on my back.

Two hours later she clapped her hands lightly. “Alright. Now go wipe the floor.”

“It’s already clean.”

“I know.” She tilted her head, amused. “But I want it cleaner.”

So I wiped it again. And again.

Later she handed me tea and then suddenly tipped the cup forward. Hot liquid splashed across my hands.

I didn’t even flinch.

“Oh no,” she said softly. “Did that burn you?”

I kept cleaning.

That night she leaned back on the couch watching me quietly. “You know something, Amelia?”

“What.”

“Westley told me something before he left.” She smiled like she was sharing a secret. “When he comes back this time, he’s going to marry me.”

My hand trembled slightly. Tea spilled across my fingers again but I barely felt it.

“Congratulations,” I said.

That evening I went to the kitchen to get her dinner. The second I stepped into the hallway, shouting erupted from the front yard.

“What’s going on?” I grabbed a servant rushing past.

“Mr. Grimshaw is back!” the man said breathlessly. “He rushed back for Miss Natalia’s birthday but his convoy got attacked on the highway. He was shot.”

The tray slipped from my hands. Plates shattered everywhere.

I didn’t care. I ran.

The backyard was chaos. Guards shouting, doctors pushing through with medical bags. I forced my way through the crowd.

Westley lay on a stretcher. Blood soaked his shirt near the chest.

Natalia clung to him crying. “Westley, please wake up. Don’t scare me like this.”

The mansion stayed lit the entire night. I stood outside the medical room listening to doctors rushing in and out.

Finally one came out wiping sweat from his forehead. “The bullet is out but it was poisoned.”

Natalia grabbed his sleeve. “Then fix it!”

“There is a way,” he said carefully. “But it requires a large blood transfusion. Someone with the same rare blood type. A lot of blood.”

“How much?”

“Enough that the donor might die.”

Natalia’s face turned pale instantly. “I… have that blood type. But I’ve always been weak since I was young. If you take that much blood…”

Her eyes slowly slid toward me.

“Sister,” she said sweetly.

I didn’t move.

“You have the same blood type, don’t you?” she continued gently. “Westley has taken care of you for years. Isn’t it time you repay him?”

My back still throbbed from old wounds and the fake death drug made my chest feel tight.

I stayed silent.

Her expression cooled. “What? You think you can refuse me?”

She looked at the guards. “Hold her.”

Two men grabbed my shoulders and forced me onto a medical table.

“Sorry about this,” the doctor muttered.

A needle slid into my vein and a blood bag slowly began filling.

Warmth drained from my body.

First bag.

Second bag.

My head started spinning.

Third bag.

The room blurred and the sound of blood dripping into plastic bags echoed in my ears.

The doctor frowned. “That should be enough.”

Natalia’s voice cut in. “One more.”

The fourth bag filled slowly. My vision darkened at the edges.

Then everything went black.

When I woke again I was back in my own backyard. Someone had dumped me on the bed like a sack of trash.

The wound near my chest hadn’t even been treated. Blood had dried into the fabric of my clothes, sticking painfully to my skin.

I slowly pulled the cloth away. One tear. Pain shot straight through my chest. Another tear. My hands started shaking. Cold sweat soaked the mattress but I didn’t even have the strength to make a sound.

After cleaning the wound as best as I could, I collapsed back against the pillow.

My body felt empty.

My heart felt worse.

Eventually… I fell asleep.

…

In my dream I was twelve again.

Snow everywhere. Cold that bit straight into the bones. My little sister’s hand clutched tight in mine as we walked through empty streets looking for food. The famine had turned the whole town quiet. People stopped talking when they were hungry that long.

“Don’t let go,” she whispered.

“I won’t,” I told her.

But the snow kept getting deeper. My fingers felt numb. What if I couldn’t hold on forever? What if I lost her too?

Bang.

The door slammed open so hard it hit the wall.

I woke up with a jolt. Westley stormed into the room looking like a storm ready to explode. His eyes were dark and furious.

“Amelia Meadow!”

Before I could even sit up, he grabbed my arm and yanked me off the bed. Pain ripped through my chest and my legs almost gave out.