Shattered Vows, Unyielding Blood Vengeance

For seven years, I poured my family's fortune into my husband Chris's company, Bell Dynamics. Then, his lover, Dr. Kimberli Luna, intentionally botched my father's routine surgery, leaving him on life support.

They locked me in the hospital room, a gilded cage, while Chris ignored my frantic calls. Kimberli appeared, a cruel smile on her lips, revealing a horrifying truth: every crisis in my life-my mother's death, a near-fatal car accident, even the miscarriage of what I thought was our baby-was orchestrated by them.

"He was with me every time," she sneered. "You were just an inconvenience."

They murdered my father by shutting off his life support right before my eyes, all because I refused to sign a waiver absolving Kimberli of her crime. Chris then had me committed, drained my blood for their future surrogacy plans, and annulled our marriage to marry her.

He thought he had erased me, broken me completely.

But he forgot about the prenuptial agreement my father insisted on. An agreement that left me with 25% of Bell Dynamics. Now, armed with my father's final gift, I will not mourn. I will avenge.

Chapter 1

Ava POV:

They locked me in this hospital room, the sterile air thick with the stench of betrayal, while my father lay dying, an innocent casualty of their twisted game. Seven years of marriage to Chris Bell, seven years of building Bell Dynamics from the ground up with my family's money and connections, and it all came down to this. My father, hale and hearty just days ago, now a phantom of himself, hooked to a maze of tubes and wires. Dr. Kimberli Luna, Chris' s lover, botched his surgery. It was supposed to be routine. It was a lie.

The heavy door clicked shut behind me. I rattled the handle. It didn't budge. My breath hitched. Panic clawed at my throat. I pounded on the door. Nothing. The hospital room, which had felt like a sanctuary just moments before, now pressed in on me, a gilded cage.

My phone was still in my hand. My fingers trembled as I scrolled to Chris' s contact. Call after call, the line just rang, then went to voicemail. I left messages, my voice growing hoarser with each plea. "Chris, please, my father needs you. I need you. What's happening?" Silence was the only reply. It was a familiar pattern, a cruel echo of every crisis I'd ever faced. He was never there.

The door swung open, not for me, but to admit Kimberli. She walked in, a vision of fragile beauty in her pristine white coat, a stark contrast to the venom she was about to unleash. Her eyes, usually so sharp, were wide and seemingly innocent. A performance.

"He won't answer, will he?" Her voice was soft, almost a whisper, but it sliced through the silence of the room. A smile, thin and cold, touched her lips. "He never does, when you truly need him."

My blood ran cold. "What are you talking about?"

She stepped closer, her scent of antiseptic and expensive perfume invading my personal space. "Oh, Ava, dear. You're so naive." She reached out, her hand hovering near my arm, then pulled back, as if I were contaminated. "He was with me. Every single time. When your mother died, when you had that car accident, even when you lost... our baby."

The words hit me like a physical blow. My knees buckled. "No. That's a lie. He was out of town. Working."

"Working on us," she corrected, her voice now dripping with saccharine sweetness. "He always chose me. Always." Her eyes, usually cool, now held a glint of something dark and triumphant. It was the look of a predator surveying its trapped prey.

"Why?" The single word tore from my throat, raw and broken.

Kimberli chuckled, a chilling sound. "Because you wouldn't leave him. You clung to him, even after everything. It became... an inconvenience." Her gaze drifted to my father, lying still on the bed. "This, Ava, this is your punishment. Your father's condition? It's our little message. A reminder of what happens when you don't play by our rules."

My mind reeled. All those years, all those moments of pain and solitude. He wasn't working. He wasn't distant. He was with her. The man I loved, the man I'd given everything to, had orchestrated every heartbreak, every abandonment, with this woman. A horrifying nausea surged through me. My stomach churned.

I remembered the car accident, three years ago. My car slid on black ice. I called Chris, hysterical. He said he was in a crucial meeting, couldn't leave. I lay in the wrecked car, the smell of gasoline filling the air, waiting for rescue, alone. Two broken ribs, a concussion. He visited me for an hour the next day, distracted, his phone buzzing constantly. "Business," he'd said, apologetically. "It's always business."

Then there was the night I lost the baby. A sudden, sharp pain. I called him, my voice barely a whisper. He was out with clients, he claimed. The phone died in my hand as the pain intensified. I dragged myself to the hospital, bleeding, terrified. I cradled my flat stomach, feeling the emptiness already. He didn't come until morning, his eyes bloodshot, smelling of stale cologne. He offered weak comfort, then disappeared into phone calls. It wasn't 'our' baby, she said. It was theirs. A surrogate pregnancy for them, using their embryo. I lost it due to the stress they put me through.

Every thread of my life, every moment of vulnerability, every tear I shed, had been a performance for them. A grand, cruel play orchestrated by Chris and Kimberli, just to punish me for not leaving him. Because I loved him. Because I believed in him. Because I was too blind to see the monster hidden behind the charming smile and the ambitious drive.

"You conspirators," I spat, the taste of bile in my mouth. "You murderers. All of it. Everything you've put me through. It was all for this." My voice shook, but a cold, steely resolve was beginning to form deep within me. This wasn't pain anymore. This was fury.

Kimberli's smile widened. "Now, about that liability waiver for me. Chris is waiting for you to sign it. Or your father' s condition might... worsen." She glanced at the medical equipment, a silent, chilling promise.

No. I wouldn't let them win. Not like this. A fierce, primal scream erupted in my heart. They wanted to break me? They would regret it. I would not mourn. I would avenge. I would make them pay. They had awakened a beast they didn't know existed.

I stared at Kimberli, my eyes burning. "He'll regret this," I whispered, not just a threat, but a vow. "You both will."

Kimberli just laughed, a high, tinkling sound that grated on my nerves. She turned and walked out, leaving me in the suffocating silence. I heard the lock click again.

I picked up my phone. Dialed Chris' s number one last time. It went straight to voicemail. I hung up. No more pleas. No more begging. The girl who loved him was dead. My father was on borrowed time, and it was all their doing. The game had changed. And I would be the one setting the rules now.

My body felt like lead, heavy with grief and a terrifying new purpose. I sank onto the cold floor, my head against the sterile wall. My father. My poor, innocent father. I had to save him. But first, I had to survive. And then, I would destroy them.

The door creaked open again. My head snapped up. It wasn't Kimberli. It was Chris. His eyes, usually warm for me, were now distant, like ice. He held a clipboard in his hand. The liability waiver. My heart hammered against my ribs.

"Ava," he said, his voice flat. "Are you going to be reasonable now?" He stepped closer, his shadow falling over me. I flinched. The man I married was gone. This was a stranger. A monster.

He knelt, bringing his face close to mine. His eyes, usually so expressive, were now devoid of any emotion. He held out the clipboard, a pen clipped to the top. "Sign it. This is for Kimberli."

I pushed his hand away, my voice a raw gasp. "You monster! How could you?"

His jaw tightened. He grabbed my arm, his fingers digging into my flesh. "Don't make this harder than it has to be, Ava. Your father's life hangs by a thread." His gaze flickered to the bed, a cruel, calculated threat.

My stomach lurched. "You would kill my own father?"

"It's not about killing, Ava. It's about choices." He pressed the clipboard against my chest. "Sign the waiver, and Kimberli is safe. Your father gets the best care... provided by another doctor, of course."

My eyes darted to the waiver. Kimberli Luna's name was printed clearly at the top. This was immunity. Immunity for her, for nearly killing my father. "I won't. I can't."

He sighed, a sound of utter impatience. "Ava, you always were so stubborn. Why do you always choose the hard way?" He stood, pulling me up with him, his grip like iron. He dragged me towards the window. Seventh floor. The ground blurred below.

"What are you doing?" My voice was a desperate shriek.

He shoved the clipboard into my hand, then grabbed my father's bedside table, tilting it precariously close to the window. "Sign the damn paper, Ava. Or he goes." His eyes were cold, dead. There was no flicker of the man I once knew. My father, my gentle father, trapped in a coma, was his pawn.

"You wouldn't!" I cried, my voice cracking.

He looked at me, a sneer twisting his lips. "Try me." He pulled out his phone, a sinister glint in his eye. "You refuse to sign? Fine. I can make other arrangements for his 'treatment'." He clicked a button on his phone. A chilling sound echoed from the life support machine. A long, flat beep. The oxygen levels began to drop.

No. He wouldn't. Not my father. My vision blurred with tears and rage. "You won't get away with this, Chris! I swear, I will make you pay!"

"Empty threats, Ava. Just like everything else you say." He watched me, his face impassive as the machine beeped faster, more urgently. My father's chest barely moved. His skin was turning ashen.

I dropped the clipboard, my hands flying to the machine, desperately trying to reverse whatever he had done. But it was no use. The flatline pierced the air, a final, agonizing scream.

My father was dead.

I collapsed, a primal wail tearing from my throat. It was a cry of pure, unadulterated anguish, a sound that ripped through the very fabric of my being. Chris stood there, watching me, his expression unreadable. Not a single tear. Not a single tremor. He was a monster.

"You killed him," I whispered, the words coated in venom.

He bent down, picked up the clipboard, and offered me the pen again. "Now will you sign it?"

My eyes, red and swollen, fixed on him. My father was gone. There was nothing left to lose. Nothing left to protect. Only vengeance. "No," I said, my voice rising, clear and firm despite the devastation. "I will never sign it. And I will make you regret the day you were born." My gaze hardened, a cold, unwavering fury replacing the grief. "This isn't over, Chris. This is just the beginning." He looked at me, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes, perhaps surprise, perhaps a hint of the fear to come. The man I once loved was dead to me. And now, I would ensure he paid for the death of my father.