They Chose Her Over Me, So I Chose Their Uncle
Chapter 4
Daniel sighed.
“That’s what you owe Chloe—just a hand.”
I stared at Daniel and Andrew in horror.
They stood there, unmoved, watching as I writhed and sobbed in agony. Only when my hand was nearly crushed beyond recognition did the bodyguards finally let go and dragged me—limp and broken—to Chloe’s hospital room.
She was already in bed, looking pristine and well-tended despite the act she had played earlier. When she saw me crumpled on the floor, barely conscious, she eased herself into Andrew’s arms with calculated fragility.
“Uncle Andrew,” she murmured, “how could you let Aunt Elise be treated this way? As long as the baby is safe, I can handle a little suffering…”
There was pity in her words, but the contempt in her eyes burned through me.
Daniel stepped forward and kicked me, hard.
“She’s repaying her sins. Keep an eye on her. If anything happens to the baby, she’ll pay tenfold.”
I looked up at the three of them—Chloe nestled safely in Andrew’s embrace, Daniel looming protectively beside them—and for a moment, it was like they were posing for a portrait. The perfect family.
Except I was the discarded piece. The forgotten extra.
The clown.
The bodyguards dragged me from the room and darkness swallowed me whole.
Memories clawed their way back, my parents’ accident, the moment I was disowned by my foster family, the threats of being cast out of the only home I had ever known. It all returned like a fever dream.
But this time, something was different.
A figure appeared in the black haze—warm, protective. Someone I had known before. Someone who wrapped me in their arms and didn’t let go.
Who was he?
I faded into unconsciousness.
When I finally awoke, my hand was heavily bandaged. The pain was distant but present—constant and throbbing. It hadn’t been a nightmare.
My hand was gone. Destroyed.
Demi Whitmore—their grandmother—was seated beside me, her eyes glassy with tears.
“Elise, sweetheart, you’re finally awake,” she said softly.
I glanced down at the wrapped mass where my hand had once been and let out a broken sob.
Why?
Why did they do this to me?
My cries startled her. She reached out, desperate to soothe me.
“It’s going to be okay. Your hand… we’ll find the best doctors. I promise we’ll try everything to fix it.”
But the more she comforted me, the harder I cried.
Eventually, the sobs overtook me and I slipped into unconsciousness again, the pain too much to bear.
I hadn’t even truly fallen asleep when my phone vibrated against the nightstand.
A message from Daniel lit up the screen.
[If you don’t want anything to happen to your parents’ inheritance, go back to Chloe’s room and do as you’re told.]
Attached was a picture—a precious box from my late parents.
My heart stopped.
No.
Those were my parents gave to me. The only people who had ever truly loved me.
I yanked out the IV and stumbled from the bed. My mind screamed in panic, overriding the pain as I rushed barefoot down the hallway to Chloe’s ward.
When Daniel and Andrew saw me barge in, disheveled and desperate, they let out sighs of relief.
“We didn’t want to force you,” Andrew said calmly. “Just behave, wait for Chloe to deliver the baby and no one will touch your parents.”
But how could I ever trust them again?
They were the reason I was in this state to begin with.
I snapped.
I lunged toward Chloe and wrapped my good hand around her neck.
“Give me back that box—or I swear I’ll choke you right here.”
The rage, the grief, the betrayal—it all came pouring out.
Andrew and Daniel went pale. They didn’t dare touch me.
Finally, Daniel gave in. He nodded to a guard, who pushed forward a metal cart with the box resting on top.
“This is what you wanted. Take it. Just let her go.”
I released Chloe’s neck and grabbed the box.
But the moment I did, Chloe jerked her arm and knocked the cart over.
The box tumbled to the floor and landed with a hollow thud.
Nothing spilled.
It was empty.
I looked up, fire in my chest.
“You lied to me?” I roared. “Where the hell are the things inside?!”
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