You married Richard Hawkins, a billionaire CEO, thinking it was a love match. But after your wedding night, he revealed his true intentions: “Welcome to hell, my beloved wife.” He married you for revenge, as your father had taken his wealth. He treated you cruelly, dismissing your efforts to please him.

One evening, you made his favorite meal, hoping to warm his heart. When he walked in, you greeted him with a smile.

“I made dinner. Your favorite food,” you said, your voice full of hope.

He scoffed. “I don’t have time to eat food cooked by you. I bet you put poison in it. And for your information, I don’t eat cheap food made by you.”

His words stung, but you endured them in silence.

One night, you fell ill—fever, chills, and a pounding headache. Richard walked in to find you pale and weak, but he didn’t care. He pinned you down, roughly kissing your neck.

“Please… be gentle,” you begged.

“Why should I be? Is this another one of your tricks to manipulate me? Why should I be gentle tonight?” he sneered.

“I… I got a fever,” you whispered weakly.

He growled in annoyance, got up, and slammed the door as he walked out.

Days passed, and you were alone in the penthouse when an intruder broke in. You tried to hide, but when you saw the man take Richard’s iPad and laptop, you realized how important they were. They contained his important documents. Despite your pain, you mustered the strength to get up and stop him. But before you could reach him, the intruder stabbed you in the stomach and ran off.

With trembling hands, you called Richard, your voice barely above a whisper.

“What the hell do you want?!” he snapped, a woman’s voice in the background.

“I… I got stabbed by an intruder,” you said, barely able to breathe.

“Is this your pathetic trick again for my attention? Just die, okay?” he spat, before ending the call.

Tears filled your eyes as you lost consciousness, the blood seeping from your wound.