The Blind Ex-Wife's Revenge

My belly is already eight months pregnant. The heavy weight presses down on my waist; every step I take, I have to brace myself against the wall. I can't see. An accident three years ago plunged my world into utter darkness. Tate Sinclair is my husband, and my only anchor. He said he was too busy with work to take care of me. So he brought my best friend, Rhoda Butler, to live with us and help out. I was supposed to feel reassured. But late at night, I keep hearing strange noises. Suppressed laughter, and the rustling of fabric. The sounds come from the guest room next to the master bedroom. Tate said he was in his study, handling business. Rhoda said she had gone to bed early. I groped my way up, trying to get a glass of water. My foot caught on the carpet, and I stumbled into the walk-in closet door. I fell into a pile of soft clothes. My fingertips brushed something cold and metallic. I searched around, confused. It was a pair of handcuffs. And a piece of light, fluttering fabric. My fingers glided over lace and bows—it was a maid's outfit. My heart tightened suddenly. "Tate, do you think she'll find out?" It was Rhoda's voice, laced with playful teasing. "She's blind. What could she possibly notice?" Tate Sinclair's voice was cold and distant. "That child..." "Don't worry, I switched it during the test tube." Tate Sinclair let out a cold laugh, "The child in her belly is ours." There was a deafening crash. My world shattered completely. So those ambiguous noises weren't just in my head. So the best friend I treasured and my husband had been secretly involved all along. So the child I'd been carrying for eight months wasn't mine. Shock was like icy water poured over me, drenching me from head to toe, followed by crushing despair. I curled up in the corner of the closet, biting my lips until they hurt. I can't cry. I can't let them see. I have to live. I will make them pay. That thought quietly took root in the darkness. In the dark, memories from the past are painfully clear. The mudslide from five years ago still smells of earth and decay. I was a volunteer at the scenic area then; when I heard the screams, I didn't hesitate and ran toward them. That person was Tate Sinclair. He was pinned beneath broken wood, his face deathly pale. I used every ounce of strength to move the wood and dragged him to safety. As the mountain slid again, a massive boulder came crashing down. He pushed me away. I saved his life, but flying debris injured my eyes. When I woke up again, there was nothing but endless darkness. Tate Sinclair stayed by my hospital bed, his eyes red, promising he would take responsibility for me. He said he would never leave me in this lifetime. I believed him. The days after losing my sight were incredibly hard. He patiently taught me to adapt to the darkness and helped me learn every corner of the house. He would hold my hand, take me to the park, and tell me the sunshine was beautiful and the flowers were blooming. He would patiently feed me and read me bedtime stories. I thought that was love. So naturally, we got married.