After My Husband Sent Me to Learn the Rules, He Regretted – Chapter 1
To please his first love, my husband personally sent me to a mental institution.
I was chained up, living like a dog, and was violated by a group of old men.
When he finally remembered me, I was six months pregnant, reduced to the lowest plaything.
My husband pinned me against the wall, his eyes bloodshot, and roared, “Whose bastard is this?”
I smiled politely and said:
“It’s yours, but I’ve already scheduled an abortion.”
Later, I terminated the pregnancy, left a divorce agreement, and vanished.
The usually aloof Nathan Sterling, like a man possessed, searched the world for me:
“Anna, I was wrong. I love you. Can we start over?”
When Nathan opened the door to the isolation room, the sudden light made my eyes water.
Seeing my wretched state, Clara Dawson, his first love, who was standing beside him, laughed:
“Anna, Nathan sent you here to make you more composed.”
“Why do you start crying and making a scene the moment we meet?”
I didn’t dare speak. I trembled as I wiped my tears with my sleeve, forcing an obsequious smile:
“Mr. Sterling, you’ve finally come for me. May I leave now?”
Nathan, about to step inside, paused, eyeing me while instinctively covering his nose.
I knew the stench here was nauseating.
I knew my filthy, swollen, pig-like appearance was repulsive.
But I’d been locked in this cramped, empty room for five days. I was forced to relieve myself on the floor.
After a long pause, Nathan lowered his hand, furrowing his handsome brow:
“Anna, how did you let yourself get like this?”
I kept a polite but strained smile, tears falling uncontrollably:
“I’m sorry for disappointing you, but I’ve learned to be composed. Please let me out.”
Nathan stared at me, his gaze strange.
No wonder—anyone seeing a woman with a rigid smile, weeping bitterly, and grotesquely overweight would react this way.
Clara blocked his view and turned to her brother, Mark Dawson:
“Bro, what’s wrong with her?”
“How’d she get so fat? And so gross.”
Before, I’d have jumped up, yelling at Clara.
But seeing Mark step forward, I shook like a leaf:
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I won’t compete with Clara anymore, please don’t—”
Mark laughed heartily, explaining loudly that I’d been locked up for deliberately harming elderly patients unable to care for themselves.
Then he entered the dark room, discreetly stuck a steel needle into my chest, whispering threats:
“Everything that happens here, you keep it to yourself and stay silent.”
“Or I’ll drag you back, and these old men will hate to see you go.”
At the mention of “old men,” I collapsed, a warm wetness spreading beneath me.
The room’s foul odor grew thicker.
Nathan, at the door, retched:
“Anna, have you forgotten all your manners?”
My tear-blurred eyes knew I couldn’t miss this chance.
I’d die in this filthy sanatorium otherwise.
I wasn’t afraid of death, but I couldn’t die here.
Controlling my trembling, I dragged my numb legs, crawling toward Nathan, the man I’d loved for ten years:
“Mr. Sterling, please let me out. I’ll never dare again.”
“I’ll disappear, stay far away, please.”
I begged repeatedly, my swollen belly slowing me, but I kept repeatedly hitting my head against his expensive shoes.
Clara pulled Nathan back, scowling:
“Nathan, taking her to Grandpa’s birthday banquet would be embarrassing. Just leave her here.”
My eyes widened in terror, crawling to clutch her skirt:
“Miss Dawson, I’ll never dare again. I’ll divorce Nathan…”
Before I finished, a hand yanked me up.
I looked up, startled, to see Nathan’s probing gaze:
“Did they bully you?”
I didn’t dare meet his eyes, bowing fearfully:
“No, no one bullied me. I’m doing fine—look, I’ve gained weight.”