The Revenge Wife

EMMA'S POV

"Like I said, Emma, it's crucial that you find a way to make these payments. Otherwise, we won't be able to keep your father in the hospital."

Dr. Collins' voice felt distant, muffled, like I was hearing it underwater. My fingers gripped the chair beneath me as I fought to hold back the tears burning behind my eyes.

"I spoke to the board again," he continued, "but they refused to continue funding his treatment—especially in his condition. You know there isn't much hope, and they'd rather allocate resources to cases with a higher chance of recovery."

His words cut through me like a blade.

"How can they just give up on him?" My voice wavered, my breath unsteady. "I know he'll recover. I know one day he'll open his eyes. Dr. Collins, I can't give up on him—he's all I have left. Please."

The doctor sighed, his gaze soft with pity. "Emma, I promise I did everything I could. I even waived my fees to lower the costs, but the hospital won't budge. The equipment and medication he needs are expensive—it's a huge burden on the facility. Please, try to understand...

His hand landed on my shoulder in an attempt to comfort me, but it did nothing. I felt cold. Empty.

I walked out of the hospital in a daze, feeling like the world was caving in around me. Leaving my father in a place where his recovery wasn't a priority was unbearable. I had to do something. I had to find a way to get the money.

The Next Morning

The moment I stepped out of my apartment, something caught my eye a piece of paper taped to my door.

I turned back, plucked it from the wood, and froze.

EVICTION NOTICE.

The words screamed at me in bold black letters, and my heart plummeted. I didn't bother reading the rest. I knew what it meant. Two months behind on rent. No money. No options.

Tears burned my eyes as I made my way to work, the city streets blurring around me. I had failed. Soon, I'd be homeless.

By the time I arrived at the restaurant, my eyes were red and puffy. I went straight to the bathroom to splash cold water on my face, inhaling deeply to steady myself.

I just have to get through today.

Later That Evening

The dinner rush kept me busy enough to push my misery aside—at least for a little while. But around 7 PM, a strange feeling prickled at the back of my neck.

I glanced up.

Across the room, at a dimly lit corner table, a man watched me over the rim of his glass

His eyes were sharp, calculating. A glass of scotch rested between his fingers. He wasn't at one of my tables, so I ignored him and went back to work. It wasn't unusual to deal with the occasional creep in this job.

By the time my shift ended, exhaustion weighed on me like bricks. My feet ached, and all I wanted was a hot shower and sleep. I grabbed my bag and coat, hoping to catch the last bus home. If I missed it, I'd have to walk forty-five minutes on tired legs.

I had barely been walking for five minutes when I felt it—a presence behind me.

A shiver crawled down my spine. The street was dark. Empty. A lump formed in my throat.

I could get killed right here, and no one would know.

My heart pounded as I whispered a desperate prayer in my head. God, please send an angel to save me.

Just as the words left my mind, a hand grabbed my arm, yanking me backward.

I crashed into a hard chest, a breath-stealing force pressing against me. The scent of musky cologne filled my senses—dark, earthy, powerful.

I looked up.

And met a pair of piercing eyes