I woke up in the hospital, my body broken. Both legs were in casts. My ribs screamed with every breath. Doctors told me recovery would take months. I couldn’t even sit up without help. My parents, Helen and Thomas, took care of Mia and visited me every day.
Marcus didn’t come.
Days passed. Then weeks. When he finally showed up, his face held no concern—only irritation.
“Do you realize what a burden you’ve become?” he said.
The words hurt more than the accident. When I told him I couldn’t even walk, he snapped that I should sell my jewelry and stop draining his money. When I reminded him I was his wife, his rage exploded.
That was when he hit me.
The door flew open moments later. A nurse and a security guard rushed in. Marcus shouted excuses, but the guard restrained him and escorted him out. His final words to me were a threat.
After that, everything changed.
With my parents’ help, I filed reports. I spoke to a lawyer named Rachel Moore, who listened patiently and told me something I hadn’t heard in years:
“You don’t deserve this. And we will hold him accountable.”