Seven Scars: The Paralyzed Wife's Ultimate Revenge

Five months pregnant, I was pushed from a thirdstory balcony. My blood pooled on the concrete.

Donovan deployed his private medical team and stateoftheart life support systems to save my life.

But the baby in my belly, just like the seven times before, turned into a pool of bloody slush. My chest caved in.

I stumbled down the sterile hospital corridors like a ghost, dragging my feet, desperate for just one glimpse of the child I lost.

That was when I heard voices bleeding through a cracked door. Donovan and my doctor. "Mr. Donovan, there were other options. Why did you have to take the baby from your wife's womb?

That was your own flesh and blood!" "Aurora is a germaphobe, and she had medical needs. This was the safest way. I wouldn't trust a stranger's tissue.

What if it wasn't healthy?" The truth hit me like a physical blow. My loving husband was the butcher all along. If he loved Aurora that much… fine.

I'd give them exactly what they deserved.

Chapter 1 Through the thin gap in the door, the conversation dragged on. "Get prepped." "While Blair is still unconscious, go in and remove her uterus." The doctor gasped. "You want to perform a hysterectomy on your wife?!" "Mr.

Donovan, I have to remind you. You don't have a child. If you remove her womb, you won't have an heir!" "I don't need an heir. Aurora gave birth to my child yesterday.

I promised her I'd leave my entire empire to our kid. Keeping Blair's uterus is a threat." The doctor's voice rose in panic. "But your child with Ms.

Aurora will carry another man's last name. They'll call someone else 'Dad.' Is it really worth it?" "Plus, your wife has miscarried seven times.

Her chances of getting pregnant again are practically zero." Donovan yanked at the tie of his custom suit, poured himself a glass of expensive whiskey, and downed it in one gulp.

His voice carried a sick, obsessive devotion. "It doesn't matter if it's worth it. I love Aurora.

I'll drain myself dry to give her the world." "But—" "No 'buts.'" He snapped. "Do exactly as I say." A chair scraped across the floor.

A phone rang, and a click echoed as he accidentally hit the speaker button. "Hey Donovan, I got the wire. Keep me in mind for the next gig, yeah?" "Seven times makes me an expert.

I've already planned the next one. I'll play a kidnapper and carve right into the wife's belly—" "There is no next time.

Take the cash and get the hell out of New York." Heavy footsteps moved toward the door. I scrambled back to my room, my legs made of lead.

Before I could even throw myself onto the mattress, the door clicked open. Donovan walked in. "Blair. When did you wake up?" I bit down hard on the tip of my tongue.

The metallic taste of blood flooded my mouth, the only thing keeping me from screaming.

I forced a weak, fragile smile onto my lips. "Just now," I whispered. "I saw you weren't here. I was about to go look for you." His eyes locked onto mine. Searching.

Scanning for a crack. My heart hammered against my ribs, so loud I was sure he could hear it.

Just when I thought my cover was blown, he scooped me up and gently laid me back on the bed. "Why don't you take care of yourself?" he murmured softly. "We already lost the baby.

I can't bear to lose you too." He actually had the nerve to say that to my face. My fingers clawed into my chest, digging into my own flesh. Bile rose in my throat.

The hitandruns. The muggings. The fall from the balcony. None of it was an accident. It was my husband. Orchestrating my slaughter, over and over again, all for his mistress.

Chapter 2 "The doctor just said your uterus wasn't fully cleared. You need another procedure." "Don't be scared, Blair. We'll have a beautiful baby.

With your eyes, and my nose and mouth." "We'll spoil them rotten. We'll make up for all of this." Donovan handed me a glass of warm milk.

As he turned, I caught the slight movement of his wrist. He slipped something into the glass.

He gathered me into his arms, his thumb stroking my shoulder, his eyes swimming with manufactured heartbreak. I knew better.

It was just a performance to keep me docile. "Do I have to drink it?" I whispered. "Can I just… skip it?" Donovan, you've already slaughtered seven of my children.

Are you really going to rip away my last chance at being a mother? His hand smoothed over my hair without a second of hesitation.

He flashed a doting smile. "Look at you, acting like a little kid.

If you don't get the surgery, your body won't heal." "Do you want to worry your husband to death?" He tilted the glass. "Here.

Let me help you." He pressed the rim against my lips, cutting off any chance of refusal. I squeezed my eyes shut. As the liquid slid down my throat, it didn't taste like milk.

It felt like swallowing barbed wire. The edges of my vision blurred.

Through the heavy fog dragging me under, the silhouette of his coconspirator doctor walked into the room. "Start the surgery now. And…" Donovan's voice paused.

A calculated beat of silence. "Find a way to use the anesthesia to paralyze her from the waist down." "Mr. Donovan, is that really necessary?

Isn't that too extreme?" "Just do it." I always knew Donovan was paranoid, constantly checking his blind spots.

But I never imagined that just waking up a few minutes early would earn me this. My baby. My right to be a mother.

Now, even my ability to stand on my own two feet—he was butchering it all. Are you just going to carve my heart out while I watch, Donovan?

A raw scream tore at the inside of my throat. I fought the chemical weight crushing my limbs, trying to force myself upright. Instead, I spiraled down into the black.

The anesthesia began to wear off. The buzzing in my ears faded just enough to catch the doctor's voice. "Mr. Donovan, your wife's uterus has been removed.

And… she will never walk again." Donovan exhaled a long breath of pure relief. "Good. Good." When I finally opened my eyes, hot drops of liquid splashed against the back of my hand.

He wept. It looked so agonizingly real. "Blair. The doctor said your uterus necrotized. You can never have children again." I ignored him.

Panic spiked my heart rate as I tried to shift my legs. Nothing. Dead weight. My breathing fractured. Tremors wracked my body as I gasped for air. "Donovan.

What did they do to my legs?" Fat tears rolled down his cheeks. He choked on his own words, playing the broken husband flawlessly. "There was an accident with the epidural.

You're paralyzed from the waist down." "Don't be afraid, Blair. No matter what happens to you, I'll never leave your side.

I will always love you." I never knew Donovan was capable of such an Oscarworthy performance. He fired all the highlevel nursing staff.

He personally brought warm organic oatmeal to my lips. He even changed my bloodsoaked bedsheets without a single word of complaint. He kept up the charade until night fell.

Leaning over, he pressed a tender kiss to my forehead. "Blair, you've suffered so much trying to give me a child.

I promise to spend the rest of my life making it up to you." I stared at his exhausted features. Then, I coldly shifted my gaze away. "If you're tired, go get some rest." "Okay.

I'll be right here watching over you. Just call out if you need anything." Chapter 3 Once his breathing evened out, I reached over and grabbed his secondary phone.

I always knew Donovan carried a burner for business. I had never bothered to look. One try. That was all it took.

The passcode was the anniversary of their first date on a private yacht. The screen flared to life, illuminating a highres wedding portrait of him and Aurora. Wedding photos.

He had actually flown her out for a bridal shoot. The glaring white of her gown burned the back of my retinas.

My thumb shook as I tapped the messaging app. [Baby.] That was what Donovan called her.

I scrolled through the endless wall of texts, the blood draining from my face with every swipe.

Every "business trip" to Silicon Valley or London was nothing but a cheap cover to play house with Aurora.

I used to swallow down the bitter resentment every time I sat in the sterile waiting rooms alone.

Whenever the obstetrician asked where my husband was, I’d force a stiff smile and say he was tied up in meetings.

His replies would always come hours late. [I’m out here building an empire for our kid's future. An ultrasound isn't a big deal, and I’d just be in the way.

Handle the routine stuff yourself.] But for Aurora? He booked out entire VIP maternity wings. He held her hand through every single prenatal scan.

No matter how many multimillion dollar deals were on the table, he never missed an appointment.

He texted her paragraphs about how desperate he was to meet their child, swearing that she and their baby were the only things tethering him to this earth.

My chest tightened, a phantom fist crushing my ribs as I scrolled further back. With every single pregnancy of mine, they had brainstormed the execution.

That hitandrun last year when I lost my third? Aurora was behind the wheel. She texted him that she wanted to feel the adrenaline of running someone down.

Donovan had gladly handed over the keys to his sports car.

His only instruction? [Just don't hit her too hard.] They plotted the slaughter of my unborn babies with the casual breeze of discussing the weather over brunch.

My fingernails dug so deep into my palms that hot drops of blood slid down my wrists, staining the pristine white sheets. I switched over to the photo gallery.

Over ten thousand files. Every single one featured Aurora. Selfies in bed, candid shots of her walking the dog, the two of them cooking dinner in a penthouse kitchen.

Donovan meticulously plating organic meals for her pregnancy cravings… Then, the video folder. [99+ items.] I tapped the icon. A bucket of ice water crashed down my spine.

The hidden cloud drive was locked and loaded with highdefinition footage of their wild parties in Vegas penthouses and the cabin of his private jet.

I swiped to a thumbnail that made my stomach heave. Donovan was blindfolded, kneeling on the carpet, kissing the arch of Aurora’s foot like a pathetic, groveling slave.

I clamped my free hand over my stomach. The sheer nausea paralyzed my vocal cords. But below the party footage was a separate, encrypted folder.

Six video files. [Number One] [Number Six] The realization hit me like a freight train. Blood rushed to my ears, and a thick, metallic copper taste coated the back of my throat.

I bit through the raw skin of my lower lip and hit play on the last file. [Number Six.] Donovan and Aurora were laughing, sipping champagne.

And right in front of them, on a stainlesssteel table, was… The surgical scalpel in the video might as well have been carving directly into my own flesh.

My stomach seized in twisting cramps. I couldn’t hold it back anymore.

I threw my upper body over the edge of the mattress and dry heaved into the trash can, my spine shuddering with every gag. I didn't sleep a single second that night.

The collar of my hospital gown was stiff with dried sweat.

When the morning sun bled through the blinds, Donovan waltzed in, carrying a massive takeout bag of his "loving breakfast." It was an extravagant spread—artisanal croissants, fresh avocado toast, scrambled eggs with truffle.

I used to think this was how he showed his devotion. Now, staring at the feast, I finally saw the truth. It was just an automated transaction to keep the livestock quiet.

Chapter 4 The memory of last night's video flashed behind my eyes, and my stomach heaved again. Donovan immediately played the worried husband. "Still nauseous? I'm so sorry, Blair.

I hate seeing you suffer." "I'm fine," I said flatly. "I want to go home." A muscle ticked in Donovan’s jaw. "You just lost another pregnancy.

My mother is… furious." "If you go back now, you're walking right into the line of fire. Stay here a little longer. Save yourself the headache." I didn't say a word.

His microscopic flinch told me everything I needed to know. The second he left the hospital for the afternoon, I packed my own bag and wheeled myself straight back to our estate.

I pushed the heavy oak front door open. Aurora was perched right on Donovan’s lap in the grand living room. They were cooing over a bundled infant.

Donovan's mother bustled out of the chef's kitchen holding a porcelain bowl of expensive, slowsimmered bone broth. She carefully spoonfed it to Aurora like she was royalty.

The three of them were laughing. The perfect, picturesque family. His mother's eyes snapped to me, instantly turning venomous. "You have the nerve to show your face?

My son bends over backwards for you, and this is how you repay him?

You walking curse, you should have just died out there." "You knew you were pregnant, yet you were always running around! How many of my grandchildren have you killed?

It's a damn shame that fall didn't snap your neck, you useless trash!" She pointed a rigid finger at the door. "Let me make this crystal clear.

From today on, Aurora is the only daughterinlaw I recognize." "Get the hell out of my house. You're dirtying my floors." Aurora followed her gaze.

A smug, victorious gleam flashed in her eyes before she masked it with a sweet pout. "Don't say that, Mom. What if Blair gets jealous?

She might go around telling everyone I stole Donovan from her." "I'd like to see her try!" his mother snapped. I knew the old woman despised me.

I was too independent, too ambitious in the boardroom. She always feared I'd overpower her precious son. But Aurora? Aurora was the perfect submissive trophy.

All honeyed words and fake helplessness, revolving entirely around Donovan. His mother desperately wanted her to wear the ring.

The only reason I ever got the title of wife was because Aurora had temporarily run off with a tech billionaire, and I had foolishly stepped back from my own career to play the dutiful homemaker.

That was the only way his mother had tolerated me. Seven miscarriages later, her hatred for me had hit a boiling point.

Now that her favorite pick was back—and holding a newborn son—she didn't even try to hide her fangs. But the old hag didn't know the punchline.

Her own son ordered the slaughter of every single pregnancy. Her precious grandchildren were gutted by the very woman she was currently spoonfeeding.

In the past, Donovan would always step in to play the peacemaker. Today, he just kept rocking the baby in his arms, deaf to the shouting.

Aurora snuggled deeper into his chest, her voice dripping with artificial poutiness. "Donovan, you're only paying attention to the baby. I'm feeling ignored.

I'm going to get mad." Donovan pinched her cheek, his eyes melting. "I knew you'd get jealous. Look on the coffee table." I followed Aurora's gaze.

The bold, black letters on the legal document resting on the marble burned into my retinas. [Majority Equity Transfer Agreement.] "Wow!

Donovan, you're the best!" She planted a kiss right on the corner of his mouth, shooting a triumphant, mocking glare straight at me.

The corners of my mouth tilted up into a cold, mechanical smile. Laugh it up.

Because very soon, both you and your precious Donovan are going to be crawling back to me, begging on your knees.

Chapter 5 "But won't Blair be mad?" Aurora cooed, tracing a finger down his chest. "This is your entire net worth, after all." Donovan stiffened, as if just realizing I was sitting right there.

He quickly scrambled for an excuse. "Blair, don't misunderstand." "My mother and I agreed to legally adopt Aurora's baby as my godson.

That's the only reason I transferred the equity to her." He let out a heavy sigh, playing the burdened patriarch. "My hands are tied here.

Since your uterus had to be removed, you can't have kids." "My empire needs an heir.

I have to put all my hopes on Ezra." "You understand, right?" A highpitched ringing pierced my eardrums. I stared at him, my vision tunneling. "What did you call him?" He froze.

His gaze instantly dropped to the floor, actively avoiding my eyes like a coward. Ezra. That was the name Donovan and I picked out for our firstborn.

It meant salvation, a full circle. I had prayed for that baby for eight years.

Countless nights, I had sobbed into my pillow, choking on that name, begging the universe to bring my dead child back to me.

And he slapped it onto his bastard child with his mistress.

How could he be this deeply, systematically cruel? "His name is Ezra," Aurora chimed in, batting her innocent eyelashes. "Donovan picked it out himself.

It means our family is finally whole." The last thread of my sanity snapped. They could butcher my body. They could permanently shatter my spine.

But how dare they desecrate the memory of my dead children? I lunged at her. I wanted to tear her throat out with my bare teeth. But my dead legs betrayed me.

My entire upper body pitched forward, and I crashed onto the hardwood floor.

The old woman curled her lip in disgust, looking down at me like roadkill. "What are you doing crawling on the floor like a useless cripple?

Haven't you embarrassed us enough?" "If I were you, I'd throw myself into the East River.

It's our family's bad luck to be stuck with a curse like you!" Donovan took a halfstep toward me, his hand reaching out.

But Aurora suddenly clutched her chest, wincing in exaggerated agony. "Donovan… my milk is coming in. It hurts so much." Panic flashed in his eyes.

He abandoned me, scooping her into his arms. "I'll take you upstairs to rest." They disappeared up the grand staircase.

His mother held the sleeping infant and glared down at me. "Since you're back, drag yourself to the kitchen and make dinner.

Or are you expecting me to spoonfeed you too?" I grabbed the metal wheels of my chair and hauled my paralyzed lower half off the floor. My fingernails sliced into my palms.

Enjoy your dinner. Because after tonight, I would make every single one of them crawl on their knees and beg for mercy. I finished prepping the meal.

I scanned the massive living room. Empty. I wheeled myself down the hall toward the master bedroom. My hands froze on the rims. The blood in my veins turned to ice.

The wet, skinslapping sounds bleeding through the heavy oak door were unmistakable.

Through the crack in the doorjamb, I saw Aurora, halfnaked, straddling Donovan’s lap on my bed. "Donovan… isn't this thrilling?

Your wife is right outside." "You love being wicked, don't you? Pushing my buttons at a time like this." The sickening noises amplified.

I swallowed back the bile rising in my throat. My face numb, I pulled out my phone and hit record. They were too busy tearing at each other to notice the camera lens in the dark.

At the dining table, Aurora played her sickeningly sweet role to perfection, piling food onto my plate. "Blair, you shouldn't have!

You just had a miscarriage, yet here you are cooking for us while we rested." "You work too hard. Eat up." The grease coated my tongue. My stomach seized.

I pushed my wheelchair away from the table and headed out to the patio to catch my breath. Chapter 6 Blair I don't know how much time bled away.

A glass bottle shattered against the patio stones right at my feet.

The label on the broken glass read: [Number Seven.] Aurora's lips twisted into a sick smile. "How was dinner, Blair?" "Do you have any idea what was in it?" The last thread of my sanity snapped.

The blood drained from my face, a sickening cold washing over my chest as the horrific realization set in. My eyes locked onto hers, wide and paralyzed. "Tsk.

You know, you look exactly like a dog right now," she sneered. "A pathetic, crippled stray." "Just looking at you makes my skin crawl.

If I were you, I would've offed myself ages ago." "I don't know how you have the nerve to keep breathing. You could never compete with me.

So what if you married Donovan?" "He's still completely obsessed with me.

He literally slaughtered seven of your kids just to keep me happy." "Honestly, I had other clinic channels lined up. But he was so worried about tissue quality.

He insisted on ripping the babies straight from your womb to use for me." Tremors wracked my body.

I grabbed the metal rims of my wheelchair and lunged forward, desperate to tear her apart. But before the wheels even touched her, Aurora raised her own hand.

She slapped herself hard across the face—twice. Then, she threw herself backward into the thorny rose bushes. "Ah!" A brutal force slammed into my wheelchair.

The metal frame tipped over, sending me crashing onto the hard stones. Donovan towered over me, the veins in his neck bulging.

He pointed a rigid finger at my face. "Blair, how can you be so vicious!" Aurora sobbed into her hands, fake tears spilling over her cheeks. "I saw Blair was upset… I just wanted to comfort her." "But the second I mentioned the baby, she accused me of showing off!

She rushed at me, slapped me, and shoved me straight into the thorns!" Donovan's jaw clenched tight. "You can't have kids of your own anymore, so you take your sick jealousy out on Aurora?

I never thought you'd stoop this low." I stared up at him from the ground, my gaze dead and hollow. "You slaughtered my babies.

Both of you." I choked out a bitter, raspy laugh. "How much longer were you planning to play me, Donovan?" A flicker of panic crossed his face.

He quickly scooped Aurora into his arms, deliberately averting his eyes from mine. "You've lost your damn mind." He turned his back on me. I watched their retreating silhouettes.

The last drop of warmth in my chest froze over. At first light, I contacted a toptier divorce attorney. I drafted the separation papers.

I backed up the entire cloned drive from his burner phone and exported the bedroom footage to a secure flash drive.

I overnighted the whole package directly to the district attorney's office, pressing formal felony charges against both of them for bigamy and attempted homicide.

Then, I headed straight to JFK.

Halfway to the terminal, my screen lit up with a text from Donovan. [Come to the hospital and apologize to Aurora right now, and I might still forgive you.] A mocking scoff escaped my lips.

I didn't need his forgiveness. I just needed them to survive the absolute hell I was about to rain down on them. I pressed the power button. The screen went black.

Donovan I stared at my phone screen. No reply from Blair. I hit dial, but the automated voice immediately stated the number was disconnected.

A weird prickle of unease crawled up the back of my neck.

I was just about to call my assistant to go check the house, but he was already sprinting down the hospital corridor toward me. He looked like he’d seen a ghost. "Mr. Donovan!

We have a massive problem!" I frowned in deep annoyance. "Haven't I trained you to handle things professionally?

What are you panicking for?" He gasped for air, his tie crooked. "The company's stock has been in freefall since market open!" "The entire internet is trending with articles calling you and Ms.

Aurora murderers!" I snatched the tablet from his trembling hands and rapidly swiped through the feeds. My blood ran cold.

The top trending hashtags were all about how I engineered my wife's miscarriages for my mistress. It was a complete PR nightmare. Every single post had attached receipts.

I zoomed in on the screenshots. The evidence tearing my empire apart was wordforword exports of my private chat logs with Aurora. My stomach dropped out.

I spun back to my assistant. "Get Blair on the line!

Now!" I slammed my hand against the wall. "As long as she issues a public statement, we can still spin this and do damage control." "The PR department tried calling her the second the news broke this morning!" he practically cried. "But her number is disconnected!" "Then go find her!" I pointed toward the exit. "Tear the house apart if you have to.

Just get her!" Chapter 7 Donovan I pulled out my phone, staring down at the screen as I frantically fired off text after text to Blair.

Every single one bounced back with a red exclamation mark. She had blocked my number. A cold knot tightened in my gut.

I didn't know why, but every instinct in my body screamed that this was just the beginning. A wave of inexplicable panic washed over me.

My assistant practically kicked the door open again, his face drained of color. He shoved a thick manila envelope toward me. "Mr.

Donovan, a courier just dropped this off." I snatched it from his trembling hands.

The bold header on the first document punched the breath out of my lungs. [Divorce Settlement Agreement.] My fingers twitched. I skimmed down to the asset division clause.

She was demanding a clean fiftypercent split of all corporate equity.

Aurora leaned over from the hospital bed, her eyes widening as she caught a glimpse of the paperwork. "Where the hell does she get the nerve to demand half your assets?!" I ignored her.

I flipped to the second file. It was a patent authorization termination and forced liquidation notice drafted by a toptier Wall Street law firm. The floor dropped out from under me