The Comatose Man I Married Pulled Me Out of Hell

Kelsey's POV

My heart dropped, and I fumbled to unlock my phone. The moment the group chat opened, I nearly blacked out.

Dozens, maybe hundreds, of my private photos were flooding the screen.

And people were already gossiping openly.

[Wow, never thought Kelsey would be that type. Always acted like a cold goddess, but turns out she plays dirty behind closed doors.]

Shaking, I typed a message into the chat. [Where did you all get those photos?]

Instantly, the group chat fell silent.

Not a single reply came, not in that group or even in my work chat.

Ten minutes later, my class president finally messaged me back.

[Your photos aren’t just in those two groups. They’ve been shared all over. Someone’s even selling the high-res ones for a buck each.]

My stomach turned.

Every ounce of hope I had crumbled.

In the photos, Francis’s face had been blurred intentionally. I couldn’t stop myself from wondering if it was him who leaked them.

I dialed his number, but no answer.

So, I tried again and again.

By the fifth call, it went straight to voicemail, signaling his phone was off.

As such, I covered my face and left the hospital, heading straight to his office.

In the underground parking lot, I finally found him with Belinda.

Her clothes were disheveled, and Francis had his hand tightly gripped around her bare shoulder. Their bodies pressed close, lips moving in rhythm, lost in each other.

I ducked behind a pillar, frozen, listening to their breathless moans.

Then Belinda spoke, her voice soft and sticky-sweet. “When our baby’s born, do you really expect me to keep being your secret lover? I don’t want my child calling Kelsey mommy.”

“Of course not,” Francis whispered back, his voice low and indulgent. “She’s just your family’s adopted girl. She could never be worthy of being my wife. The only reason I’ve kept her around this long was to keep her calm. After all, she’s been with me for years. Though she's not that of great help, she's still somehow provided some of my needs. But don't worry, once the baby’s here, I’ll find a reason to dump her.”

Belinda giggled and leaned into him, her voice almost teasing. “She can indeed provide some needs. That's why I shared that with people who needed it. Can’t wait to see her reaction.”

Francis playfully tapped her nose and curiously asked, “Share what?”

“Nothing important,” she answered with a coy smile. “Anyway, I’m starving. Weren’t we meeting Mr. Nicholson for dinner?”

Afterward, they left, and my legs gave out.

I collapsed to the ground like my soul had been ripped from my body.

In that moment, I didn’t know whether I wanted to laugh or scream. All those years we'd been together turned out to be a joke.

I sat there for half an hour until my legs had gone numb. When I finally stood, leaning against the wall for support, my phone buzzed.

It was Francis.

“My phone died, and I have no signal. I didn’t know you were calling. What’s up?”

“Nothing,” I emotionlessly replied.

“If it’s nothing, then meet me at the Urban Luxe Suites. You’ve got thirty minutes.”

I didn’t know why he wanted me there. He was supposed to be meeting a business partner with Belinda, so why did he ask me to be there?

But with everything happened to me, I can sit still.

I arrived at the hotel in under thirty minutes, and when I walked into the private room, Francis and Mr. Nicholson were already deep into their drinks.

Belinda, avoiding alcohol because of her pregnancy, was cozying up to Mr. Nicholson with compliments and a contract in hand.

When she saw me, her eyes immediately lit up.

“Kelsey! Francis had a bit too much, and Mr. Nicholson’s still in party mode. Could you keep him company for a while?”

“I don’t drink,” I replied flatly.

Francis slumped into Belinda’s arms, slurring something about going home. She giggled and smoothed his hair, completely covering his words.

“Come on,” Belinda coaxed again, pretending to be sweet. “Just one drink for Mr. Nicholson’s sake. Then we’ll all leave, I promise.”

I hesitated. But before I could decide, Mr. Nicholson had already lifted a glass to my lips.

“Just one drink, and I’ll sign the contract right after,” he said.

I believed him and took the glass. I closed my eyes, and, in one go, I swallowed it empty.

I thought that was it. After one drink, he would sign the contract, and then I could leave.

But the second I finished, Mr. Nicholson grinned widely and grabbed my arm, dragging me down beside him.

“Now we’re talking! You’ve gotta drink a few more with me tonight.”

And just like that, he signed his name on the contract.

“See? Easy. Now just stay a little longer. Don’t worry, I’ll go easy on you.”