Broken Vows and Shattered Steps

A staged kidnapping cost me both my legs and my son. Afraid that I’d break, my husband quit his job to stay by my side, treating me with doubled devotion. Yet in the dead of night, he would stare blankly at our son’s picture. I knew he blamed me for indirectly causing our boy's death. Consumed by guilt and self-hatred, I swallowed my pain—even silently letting him bring his first love into our lives. Until I accidentally overheard his best friend ask him: "Back then, you paid those guys to kidnap Chloe just to break her legs and avenge Cynthia. You even ended up getting your own kid killed. Aren't you terrified she'll find out the truth and leave you?" "She won't. Chloe's completely obsessed with me. Besides, who told her to take our boy to that amusement park without asking me first?" "And it's not like I'm divorcing her. What more could she possibly want?" It turns out that kidnapping was never an accident. If he loves his precious darling that much, I'll gladly set him free. "Cynthia has a weak heart, and Chloe stole her lead role in the ballet company. Those legs were what she owed Cynthia." Alexander's chilling voice pierced my ears and drove straight into my heart. Never in my wildest dreams could I have imagined that losing my legs and my son... Losing my career and my family... Was all because five years ago, I beat Cynthia in an audition to become the company's prima ballerina. And the man I once believed loved me with all his soul had approached me from the very start with nothing but cold, calculated revenge. My ears rang violently as I stiffly pushed the wheels of my chair and turned away. Right after I called my driver, I saw Cynthia, still in her stage costume, throw herself into Alexander's arms. "Alex, did you watch my performance? Was I better than Chloe?" She tilted her head up, whining for his praise. Alexander draped his coat over her shoulders. The movement was so practiced, so fluid, it felt like he had done it tens of thousands of times. His tone was sickeningly tender. "I saw it. You're the most flawless princess in the world, Cyn. How could she ever compare to you?" "I've already hired a personal assistant for you and bought you a penthouse near the theater. That way, you won't have to rush around for rehearsals anymore." Alexander had always been an absolute perfectionist. Whenever he watched my shows, he would bluntly pick apart every tiny flaw. He had never cared about my career, let alone arranged assistants for me. And today, despite Cynthia making several glaring mistakes on stage, Alexander still thought she was utterly flawless. Turns out, the difference between love and indifference was really that obvious. The car pulled up smoothly in front of me. I pulled my gaze away, my heart numb with a searing ache. I knew right then that I would never crave his love ever again. Not long after I got home, Alexander unlocked the front door. He was carrying a takeout container of seafood pasta. "Chloe, it’s freezing outside. I bought your favorite seafood pasta." He carefully blew on the steaming noodles, lifting a spoonful to feed me. "You haven't been eating properly lately. You've gotten so thin." The heartache in his eyes didn't look fake at all. Once, that tenderness and care had made me drown in devotion. But now, I was wide awake. As he leaned closer, the heavy scent of night-blooming jasmine clinging to him made my stomach churn with disgust. I stared at the shrimp he had carefully peeled, my lips curling into a bitter, mocking smile. "You forgot. I'm allergic to shellfish." "The one who loved seafood pasta was Leo. If he were still alive, he’d be turning four in just a few days." His hand jerked violently, the color draining from his face. "I’m so sorry, Chloe... I guess I've just been missing Leo so much that my head's a mess." "But it's been so long. We need to move on." His grief wasn’t an act. The way he wiped that photo frame night after night. The keepsakes he painstakingly preserved, the strands of gray hair multiplying at his temples. Every single piece of evidence proved how deeply he missed our son. Yet he could never, ever hurt as much as I did. When the kidnappers swung a metal bat to break my legs, Leo had launched his tiny body like a cannonball, shielding me with his own little frame. He took brutal blows meant for me. Every waking second, I wished with all my soul that the one who died had been me! Alexander grasped my hand, his voice thick with gravel. "Chloe, let's adopt a child." "He looks a lot like Leo, and they're around the same age. I thought... maybe having a child around the house would help you heal." My phone buzzed in my lap. Cynthia had sent me a photo on SnapChat. [My son. Doesn't he look just like Alex?]The world went dead silent, like a sledgehammer had smashed into my skull. Leo had been dead for barely a year. And here Alexander was, practically frothing at the mouth to bring Cynthia’s son into our home for me to raise. What made it sicker was that this child was only a year younger than Leo. How on earth did he manage to build a second family with another woman behind my back while whispering sweet nothings in my ear? What did our son ever mean to him? Tears spilled over my lashes, dripping onto the back of his hand like boiling acid. Alexander flinched, shrinking back for a fraction of a second. Flustered, he reached out to wipe my wet cheeks. I wrenched my face away, my vision blurring behind a wall of tears. "Do you think Leo is something you can just replace?" "How could you ever think that?! Leo was my son too!" Alexander’s frantic panic only drove the knife deeper into my chest. "I only wanted to distract you! I wanted to help you pull yourself out of the dark!" I stared right through him. "Alexander, do you love me?" "Of course I love you!" His voice was loud, his tone dripping with desperate sincerity. Yet his eyes darted away, completely unable to hold my gaze, exposing the rotten guilt inside. Outside, rain began to pour against the glass. The cold dampness seeped into my shattered leg bones, sending throbbing agony shooting through my body. I didn't have the energy to peel back his lies right now. Slowly, I wheeled myself back into my bedroom. Leo’s birthday was coming up. I still had to prepare for it. Hurried footsteps echoed behind me. "Chloe, wait, I—" A custom ringtone cut through his words. Through the speaker, Cynthia’s whiny voice dripped through the line. "Alex, the thunder is terrifying me..." Alexander immediately grabbed his car keys off the console. "I’m coming over right now. Lock the doors and windows." Covering the mic with his palm, he tried to sound gentle as he coaxed me, "Chloe, there's an emergency at the office. Go to sleep early tonight, okay?" Before he walked out, he went out of his way to hide all of Leo’s things from plain sight. He threw the seafood pasta directly into the trash chute. All so I wouldn't spiral if I saw them. In the dead of night, Cynthia sent me a video on SnapChat. Alexander was wearing a bathrobe, pulling her into his lap and kissing her deeply. "Good girl. Soon, our boy will be able to call me Dad out in the open." "I'm sorry you had to wait in the shadows for so long." On her ring finger rested an identical band to the one Alexander wore. She rubbed her nose against his neck like a spoiled kitten. "Then you better hurry up and marry me." Alexander didn't answer with words. Instead, he pinned her beneath him on the sheets... [He only married you because of me anyway. An empty, dead marriage, and now you have to raise my kid. You're pathetic.] Tears soaked completely through my pillow, draining every ounce of agony left in my soul. After a long time, I texted back: [I hope you get what you want soon.] She snapped back instantly: [Just you wait!] When they were finally done, Alexander texted me, claiming he had to go out of town on a business trip for a few days. A man who had never cared for sweet talk suddenly sent me dozens of messages repeating, I love you, Chloe. I didn't reply to a single one. Instead, I turned on Do Not Disturb. With an ego as massive as his, he didn't reach out to me for days after that cold shoulder. Not until the day of Leo’s birthday. When I arrived at his grave, I saw Cynthia standing there, holding her son, Timmy, by the hand. "Don't worry, little guy. I'll make sure to keep your daddy company for you." "In your next life, you can come be my baby. I'm definitely a way better mother than yours ever was!"The framed painting I had placed before the headstone had already been smashed to pieces on the stone pavers by Cynthia. "What kind of garbage is this? It's hideous." "Don't go corrupting Alex's and my son's artistic taste. It's so low-class." In its place, she had arranged expensive jewelry, luxury model cars, and high-end auction artwork. "Isn't your new mommy treating you well?" Her laugh was dripping with smug superiority. A snap echoed in my head, severing my last shred of sanity. That painting was a family portrait Leo and I had worked on together right before he died. Only Alexander's figure was left uncolored. Leo had told me he wanted to wait until his daddy came home so they could finish it together. That wait had turned into an eternity. What right did this mistress have to destroy his final wish? I lunged forward in my chair, grabbing her tacky displays and hurling them directly into her face. Just as my trembling fingers scooped up the mud-stained canvas, a violent shove hit my chest. I went crashing down, wheelchair and all. My temple slammed hard against the sharp corner of the granite headstone. Excruciating pain tore through my skull. "Chloe, what the hell are you doing?!" Alexander had appeared out of nowhere. Timmy burst into loud, theatrical wails. "Daddy! That mean lady pushed Mommy!" Cynthia’s face was covered in scratches. Tears streamed down her cheeks in a delicate, pathetic display. "Alex, it hurts so bad..." Alexander’s expression was terrifyingly cold. "Chloe, apologize to her." Cynthia tugged on his sleeve, playing the magnanimous saint. "It's fine, Alex. I'm sure she didn't mean it." Swallowing down the blinding pain, I frantically wiped the wet mud off the torn canvas, terrified my own tears would dissolve the watercolors. The veins on Alexander’s temples bulged violently. He reached down, ripped the paper from my hands, tore it to shreds, and threw it into the wind. "What is so damn important about this piece of trash?! Apologize right now!" The scraps fluttered helplessly down the mountainside. All that remained in my clenched fist was a tiny, crumpled corner with messy, childish handwriting: Mommy, I love you. I cried until I couldn't pull air into my lungs, my entire frame shaking violently. Panic suddenly flickered across Alexander’s features. He rushed to haul me up from the dirt, setting me carefully back into the wheelchair. "Chloe, I... I lost my temper just now—" "Alex... my head hurts so much..." Cynthia’s pained whimper cut him off instantly. Without a second thought, he scooped Cynthia into his arms, grabbing Timmy’s hand with his free fingers. "I’m taking you to the ER right now." Every shred of concern and guilt he had just shown me evaporated into thin air. He didn't look back at me. Not once. Blood seeped from the gash on my forehead, dripping warm down my cheek and jaw. I wiped at it blindly with the back of my hand, crawling through the freezing mud to search for the shredded pieces of my son's drawing. An autumn downpour broke without warning, heavy and merciless. Even the tiny scrap of paper promising his love was washed clean by the torrent, the ink dissolving into nothing. "I'm sorry, Leo... Mommy's so sorry..." The ground turned slick with mud. The wheels lost their grip, sliding uncontrollably toward the steep edge of the slope. A sickening jolt of agony ripped through me as I plunged over, darkness dragging me down. Right before I blacked out, I thought I heard Leo’s sweet, soft voice whispering in my ear: Mommy, I don't blame you. I love you the most in the whole wide world. In the fog of my mind, I dreamed of the day Alexander proposed. He had signed over every single asset he owned to my name, swearing on his life that he would love me until his dying breath. Everyone told me I was the luckiest woman alive. And I truly believed them. Even when I was in labor with Leo, he didn't run to check on the baby first. He ran straight to my bedside, tears in his eyes, begging to know if I was in pain. He had cherished me so much. Outside of work hours, he spent every waking second raising our son with me. He carved out time to take Leo to the park. He handled drop-offs and pick-ups. Whenever Leo had a fever, he canceled multi-million-dollar board meetings just to sit by his bed. I had never once doubted his love for me, or for our son. And yet, every single second of it had been constructed on the foundation of cold-blooded revenge. What a sick, twisted joke. When I opened my eyes again, Alexander let out a heavy breath, his gaze swimming with undisguised dread. "Chloe, you scared the life out of me falling down that slope! I spent twenty-four hours searching that mountain for you! Thank God you're okay." "I've already ordered a custom motorized chair with top-tier safety locks. I swear to God, you won't ever get hurt again."Dark circles bruised the skin beneath Alexander's eyes. It looked like he hadn't slept a wink. This kind of obsessive, doting care made me feel like I was back in the days when I carried Leo in my belly. Except back then, he had an agenda. Now, I had nothing left to my name. What was there left to punish me for? I couldn't wrap my head around it, so I stopped caring. All I wanted was to walk away and leave him, Cynthia, and their kid to play their happy little family. My icy silence made his brow pull into a tight, irritated knot. "What kind of tantrum is this?" "You attacked Cynthia. I only rushed her to the hospital so I could clean up your mess, didn't I?" Clean up my mess. By leaving a crippled woman bleeding out on the side of a mountain. My lips curved into a bitter smirk, but my throat was burning dry. "Mr. Wright, your wife just woke up from a concussion. She needs complete rest," the nurse changing my dressings spoke up quietly. Only then did Alexander seem to realize something. The ugly wound slashed across my forehead was entirely his doing. Complete strangers could see the damage, yet he chose to play blind. He inhaled sharply, dropping the interrogation. His eyes kept darting down to his phone screen. "I'll go grab you something to eat." An hour went by. There was no food in sight. Instead, Cynthia sent a smug message straight to my SnapChat: [Even when he's sitting right next to your hospital bed, all he thinks about is me.] In the attached screenshot, Alexander was venting his frustration: [All this drama over a scrap of paper? Is she out of her mind? You and Timmy are the only ones who bring me peace.] Cynthia replied with words of comfort, accompanied by a suggestive photo. [It's okay, Alex. I'll make you feel all better later tonight~] Back then, Alexander had always looked at me with that same smoldering gaze. I felt sick to my stomach. I locked the screen and shut my eyes. Sure enough, he couldn't sit still for long. After barking instructions at the doctors and private nurses to look after me, he tucked the edge of the blanket around my shoulders and practically sprinted out the door. I picked up my phone and dialed a number I knew by heart. "Lucas... I want to come home." My brother booked my flight without asking a single question, promising to pick me up in three days. Curiously enough, during those final days, Alexander suddenly became overwhelmingly attentive. He brought gourmet meals from top restaurants, never repeating a single dish. He showered me with luxury gifts. Designer jewelry fresh off the runway, high-end collectible plushes. Intricate, beautiful handcrafted trinkets. I met every single gesture with dead silence, not even sparing them a glance. On the seventh day, his patience snapped. He slammed the gift box straight into the trash can. "How long are you going to keep freezing me out?!" I looked at him flatly. "I'm not freezing you out." My calm wall deflected his rage completely, leaving him seething. He snatched his coat off the rack and sneered down at me. "Fine. Since you want to play this game, the second you get discharged, you're going straight to Cynthia to get on your knees and apologize. You traumatized her kid that day." "Even if you refuse to adopt him, you will go to the theater and direct Cynthia's rehearsals." "After all, nobody knows that ballet piece better than you do." I pressed a hand over my chest. It didn't even ache anymore. The heavy wooden door slammed shut behind him. I turned around and wheeled myself into my brother's waiting SUV. Lucas had already cleared out all of Leo's remaining keepsakes. I sent the signed divorce papers straight to the fax machine in Alexander's executive office. Then, I sent a video file and an audio recording to his personal phone. Before we boarded the private jet, Lucas looked at me quietly. "Any regrets?" I slid the diamond band off my left ring finger. "None." Not now, not ever. Across town, Alexander's heart seized with an inexplicable, violent pang. "Alex? What's wrong?" Cynthia was unbuttoning his suit jacket. He shoved her hands away, unlocking his phone screen. With just one look, every drop of blood drained from his face.