The Woman I Helped Stole My Life

After Adele yelled, she yanked Jude into the fray. His anxious expression only struck me as absurd. Here I was, his wife, humiliated in front of everyone, while he fretted over an outsider.

"Jude, tell her—who do you love?"

Adele gripped his tie, her voice sugary, with a hint of deliberate flirtation. Why hadn't I seen how unreasonable she was before?

Outside the office, a crowd had gathered, clearly enjoying the spectacle.

"Corinne, why bother with all this?"

"What’s a little girl like her to you? She's barely in her twenties, doesn't know anything."

Jude, ever the coward, dodged the question, trying to play the peacemaker.

He couldn’t even bring himself to admit, in front of all these people, that he’d betrayed me.

He opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, I slapped him hard.

"Reflect on yourself."

Since they wanted to stir up trouble, I saw no reason to endure it any longer.

I grabbed Adele’s hand and turned to Jude.

"Do you dare to deny that the ring on her finger isn’t from you?"

"Your lover came to me, proudly flaunting that she stole my husband."

"She may be ignorant, but I’m sure the leaders of her school will understand."

My fury boiled over, and I raised my hand to slap Adele, but before I could, I felt a sharp force at my waist.

Someone pushed me out of the way, and I collided with the corner of the table. The pain exploded in my head, and white light flashed before my eyes. A warm rush of blood spread quickly across my forehead, the pain intensifying with every heartbeat. The surrounding noise grew louder as I sank into unconsciousness.

When I woke up two days later, a young nurse was sitting beside me. Her face lit up when she saw my eyes flutter open, and she burst into tears.

"Dr. Corinne, you’re awake!"

"The examination showed that your eyesight was nearly damaged. We were all so worried."

She waved her hand in front of me, asking gently, "Can you see clearly now?"

"Are you hungry? I’ll get you some porridge."

I forced out a bitter smile, feeling the heaviness of everything weighing down on me.

"It’s fine," I muttered. "I’m okay... I can go back to work in a few days."

But as I looked around, the absence of my family hit me harder thCassyy physical pain.

I pulled out my phone and sent a message to Jude, trying to suppress the unease in my chest.

I just wanted to know how my daughter was doing.

I had been in a coma for two days, unaware of everything.

But as soon as I typed the message to Jude, I deleted it.

The thought of my daughter’s sweet, innocent smile flickered in my mind, but it quickly twisted into a look of hatred for me.

She yelled, “Go to hell!”—the words pierced through me.

A chill ran down my spine, mingling with a deep sense of disappointment.

I had carried her for ten long months, and in her early years, her health was frail.

I had always been there for her, balancing the demands of work with caring for her every need.

There were times when even the doctors, concerned for my well-being, suggested I might be pushing myself too hard. They warned that it could have long-term consequences, even suggesting I might lose my job if I continued this way.

But Jude couldn’t help—his career evaluations and responsibilities consumed all of his attention. So, the weight of everything fell on my shoulders.

I gave everything to my daughter, but now, she seemed to favor Adele.

I lay there in the sterile quiet of the hospital room, the steady ticking of the machines around me a constant reminder of my isolation.

In that moment, everything felt pointless.