The Divorced Architect's Spectacular Comeback

The next morning, Crista was resting in her hospital bed, trying to ignore the persistent ache in her belly. Suddenly, the door was thrown open with such force that the handle banged against the wall.

Crista jolted awake. Her father, Gardner, and her stepmother, Cristin, stormed into the room, their faces twisted in anger.

Gardner didn't say a word. He strode to the bed and raised his hand. Slap! The sound echoed in the small room. The blow snapped Crista's head to the side, pain exploding across her cheek. A metallic taste filled her mouth.

Cristin stood behind him, gasping in mock horror, though her eyes were gleeful. She grabbed Gardner's arm, pretending to hold him back. "Gardner, no! Don't hit her!"

Gardner pointed a shaking finger at Crista's face. "You ungrateful brat! You refuse to divorce him, and now you're going next door to bully poor Else? Are you trying to ruin this family?"

Crista pressed a hand to her stinging cheek. She looked at the man who was supposed to be her father, and a deep chill settled in her bones.

She lifted her head, her eyes devoid of any warmth. "Let me guess. Else ran to you crying again."

Cristin immediately switched to a look of heartbroken disappointment. "Crista, you're so malicious! The Anderson Group is our only lifeline. Why are you trying to destroy the marriage?"

Crista laughed, the sound sharp and humorless. "Finally showing your true colors, aren't we? This isn't about marriage. It's about selling your daughter for a corporate bailout."

She struggled into a sitting position, fighting through the pain in her abdomen. She locked eyes with Gardner, who had the decency to look away.

"Three years ago," Crista said, her voice rising, "the Cherry family was on the brink of bankruptcy. You got me drunk. You set me up with Conrad. You forced us into a marriage so you could get the bailout money!"

Gardner's face turned purple with rage. He raised his hand again, ready to strike.

Crista didn't flinch. She stared him down. "Hit me," she challenged coldly. "And I will call the press right now and expose every financial fraud this family has committed."

Gardner's hand froze in mid-air. A flicker of fear crossed his eyes. Slowly, he lowered his arm.

Cristin switched tactics. She began to wail, dabbing at her eyes. "We raised you! We gave you everything! Is this how you repay us? You owe us!"

Crista cut her off. "Repay you?" she scoffed. "Did you think about 'repayment' when you stole my mother's trust fund?"

The words hit Cristin like a physical blow. Her face went white. She screeched like a cat whose tail had been stepped on. "You bitch!"

Cristin lunged at the bed. She grabbed Crista's arm, her nails digging in, and shook her violently.

The sudden, violent movement was too much for her already traumatized body. A blinding, tearing pain ripped through her healing abdomen. The incomplete miscarriage had left her incredibly vulnerable, and the rough handling caused something inside to rupture. She doubled over, clutching her stomach, her face draining of all color.

Gardner stood by, unmoved. "Stop playing games," he snapped impatiently. "Just sign the papers."

But Crista couldn't hear him. Her breathing became ragged. Cold sweat poured down her face. She felt a hot, heavy gush between her legs.

She looked down. A bright, terrifying red stain was rapidly spreading across the white hospital sheets.

Cristin saw the blood and screamed. She let go of Crista as if she had touched a hot stove, stumbling backward.

Gardner froze, his face going slack as he stared at the blood, stammering incoherently.

Just then, the door opened again. Conrad walked in, pushing Else in a wheelchair.

Conrad's gaze swept the room, landing on the horrific amount of blood on the bed. His pupils dilated in shock.

Crista weakly lifted her head. She looked past her panicked parents, her eyes locking onto Conrad.

She tried to speak, but the words wouldn't come. Her vision went black. She collapsed backward onto the blood-soaked mattress, losing consciousness.