After My Husband Sent Me to Learn the Rules, He Regretted – Chapter 3
I pressed the bedside bell, and a nurse rushed in.
Seeing me, she wrinkled her nose in disgust:
“Mr. Sterling said to go home when you wake.”
I nodded submissively, almost stumbling as I tried to stand.
The nurse dodged:
“No wonder Miss Dawson says you love to act. It’s just me here. Who are you putting on a show for?”
“Your legs were just a nerve problem. It’s fixed now. Get going.”
I didn’t argue. I hobbled out, leaning against the wall for support.
At the hospital entrance, I saw Nathan and Clara laughing together.
Fear surged through me. I tried to hide, but my atrophied legs gave way.
With a loud crash, I fell, shattering the glass door.
Clara turned to look, stunned, then laughed mockingly:
“Look! Anna’s fat as a pig, still trying to play frail like before.”
“I’m so far away—gonna blame me again?”
I looked up, noticing Nathan’s friends behind them.
They approached, Nathan looming over me, eyes full of disgust:
“Anna, if you want to stay by my side, drop the tricks.”
“You faked being crippled last time, but I saw you walk just fine.”
His friends chimed in, their accusations sharp.
Amidst the verbal attacks, I lowered my head in silence.
I couldn’t fight back—they had evidence.
If I spoke out about my torment, they’d expose everything, ruining me.
Seeing no reaction, Clara boredly clung to Nathan’s arm:
“She’s still scheming. Nathan, let’s go.”
The crowd teased their closeness:
“Nathan, she’s a pig. Clara’s way better for you.”
“If she hadn’t handed over all her shares, you think Nathan would keep her?”
I remained silent, but Nathan snapped,
“Enough!”
My heart skipped a beat. Was he defending me?
I cautiously looked up, catching Clara rolling her eyes.
“Nathan hates people mentioning Anna’s shares. Didn’t you know?”
The crowd shut up.
My heart resumed beating.
Not defending me—just guarding his fragile pride.
Then something unexpected happened.
Nathan shook Clara off and squatted down in front of me, gently holding my ankle.
“You’re bleeding so much. Doesn’t it hurt?”
Following his gaze, I saw my legs, covered in glass shards, blood pooling around them.
The crowd gasped, covering their mouths.
But I’d endured worse in the sanatorium—this was nothing compared to that.
I met his gaze:
“It doesn’t hurt. I want to leave.”
His complex expression turned to disgust. He dropped my hand, letting my legs, still embedded with glass, hit the ground:
“You’re hopeless, saying that to make me feel sorry for you.”
“You framed Clara with fake injuries before, and now you’re trying this again. Do you think I’ll fall for it?”
He led the group away.
Watching his resolute back, a strange emotion surged in my chest.
Before I could process what was happening, searing pain from my belly jolted me awake.
Seeing blood pooling beneath me, I screamed,
“Nathan, don’t go!”
“Please, save me, save our … “
Before I finished, he slammed the car door, speeding off with Clara.
My vision blurred. Just before I lost consciousness, a face loomed close, faintly calling my name.