My Husband Took Half of My Order, I Chose Divorce

“Hmph!” Daniel shot me a venomous glare, then left with Emma.

Past midnight, I lay awake, waiting for tomorrow to come. I had endured life with this hypocritical man long enough. I wanted freedom. The secret of that half order no longer mattered to me.

Just as I was drifting into sleep, I heard the sound of my hospital room door being forced open.

Confused, I thought—did I call the nurses?

But then, a group of menacing figures burst in, and my blood froze.

“Who are you? This is a hospital. Leave immediately, or I’ll call security!”

I barked, trying to sound firm.

They only sneered.

“Sweetheart, already pretending you don’t know my voice?”

That voice—it was the same one from the kidnapping call.

My body went cold.

“You… who are you? I don’t know you! Get out!”

The leader, a scruffy vagrant-looking man, smirked.

“Don’t play dumb. You know exactly who we are. And screaming won’t help. We already drugged the nurses. Tonight, no one will save you.”

“Last time, you survived the crash. This time, we’ll make sure you don’t.”

My face drained of color.

“Daniel—Mr. Carter—he sent you, didn’t he? Whatever he paid you, I’ll double it. Don’t hurt me!”

“Two hundred thousand… four hundred thousand… half a million… no, a million!”

The leader’s expression flickered, but he sneered.

“Too bad. I live by one rule: whoever hires me first, I stay loyal to. Even if you offered ten times more, I wouldn’t betray the deal.”

“Sorry, sweetheart. Best I can do is leave you a whole corpse.”

Panic surged through me. I tried to run, but the door was already barricaded.

They rushed me, fists and boots raining down. The world spun, pain blazing through my body.

“Please, don’t hurt me! I’m begging you!”

But they ignored me. Before blacking out, I felt my legs twisted unnaturally, agony ripping me apart. I thought I was dying.

So convenient—for Daniel and Chloe. The secret of the half order would die with me.

I was going to die. And I was furious.

Yet when I opened my eyes again, I was still in the hospital. Pain tore through me, my legs bent grotesquely, useless.

Then, from the bathroom, I heard whispered voices.

Daniel.

On the phone.

“Dad, Mom keeps insisting on a divorce, and I can’t stand it. But crippling her—having those thugs break her legs—wasn’t that too cruel? How will she live now?”

And Daniel’s cold laugh answered: