After Three Years in Hell, I Became the Heiress He Lost

Three years. Three years I'd been locked inside that psychiatric facility before Leon Vance finally came for me.

He stepped out of the car in a tailored suit, just as handsome and untouchable as ever.

The door swung open, and my son poked his head out. He spat in my face.

You evil woman! You jinx! You killed my sister!

The color drained from my cheeks. My lips parted, but nothing came out.

Leon stood off to the side, his voice flat and detached. "Pamela's sick. You two share a blood type. She needs a transfusion from you."

He paused, then added, as if it were a consolation prize:

"Don't worry. Once Pamela's better, we'll go back to living like a normal family."

Pamela.

Pamela Henson.

His late brother's widow. The woman who'd moved into his home and never left.

I didn't scream. I didn't cry. Not like before. I just nodded and said one word.

"Fine."

Leon blinked, caught off guard. The surprise vanished almost instantly, replaced by that familiar look of cold indifference.

"Looks like three years really did teach you to behave."

I let out a quiet laugh, the kind that meant nothing.

Because in one month, the ten-year promise I made with my father would finally come due.

Hayden Abbott's foot kicked against my shin. Again. And again.

I didn't flinch. Didn't speak. Just watched the scenery blur past the window.

We'd barely pulled up to the house when I spotted a slender figure kneeling at the bottom of the front steps.

Pamela Henson wore a spotless white dress, her eyes swollen and rimmed red, as though she'd been crying for hours.

When she saw us approach, her voice cracked with a perfect, trembling sob.

"Gloria Pruitt... I'm so sorry. You've suffered so much these past few years, and it's all my fault. I'm the one who"

Something flickered in the depths of Leon's eyes. Pity. Tenderness. Gone in an instant, but I saw it.

Hayden tore away from me and threw his arms around Pamela's elbow. He whipped his head back and glared at me with pure venom.

"Mama Pamela, get up! This isn't your fault!"

"It's all because of her! She ruins everything!"

Mama Pamela.

Those two words drove into me like a needle straight through the eardrum.

This was my child. The child I'd carried for ten months, the child I'd nearly bled to death bringing into this world. And he called that woman Mama Pamelaand called me the one who ruins everything.

Hayden was still shouting. "This is all your fault! You come back and make Mama Pamela kneel? Why didn't you just die out there!"

My fingers curled into the hem of my shirt until my knuckles went white.

Leon reached down and helped Pamela to her feet, his hands impossibly gentle.

I opened my mouth to speak, but before a single word left my lips, Pamela clutched her chest.

Her face went ashen. Her knees buckled, and she collapsed.

"Pamela!" Leon caught her, and the panic in his voice was something I had never once heard directed at me. Not once in all our years together.

He looked up at me, his gaze ice-cold.

"What are you standing there for? Get in the car!"

Leon's men dragged me down the hospital corridor and into the blood-draw room.

Leon stood beside the doctor, his voice leaving no room for argument. "Now. Draw the blood."

The needle was thick. It punctured my arm, and I watched my blood seep through the tube, draining away drop by drop. The absurdity of it almost made me laugh.

Three years ago, he'd stripped me of my dignity. Three years later, he was draining me of my blood.

My hands grew colder. My body began to tremble.

Memories flickered behind my eyes like a dying reel of film.

I was from Harbor City. I had been the youngest chief surgeon in neurosurgery in all of Kensington City. I'd saved countless lives on the operating table.

Then, on my wedding anniversary, a patient's family member broke into our home, doused it in gasoline, and set it ablaze. Then vanished without a trace.

My three-year-old daughter burned alive.

Afterward, Pamela knelt before me, knocking her forehead against the floor over and over.

"Gloria, I'm so sorry. You operated on that patient and it failed, and you... to make it go away, you forced me to sleep with the patient's family. But they still weren't satisfied. It's all my fault. It's all because I couldn't handle it properly"

Every word out of her mouth was a lie.

But Leon didn't believe me.

No matter how I explained, no matter what I said, Leon refused to believe me.

I was so furious that I grabbed Pamela by the throat. Leon kicked me to the ground and had me committed to the psychiatric facility.

My medical license was revoked. My reputation, destroyed. The entire internet tore me apart.

Inside the facility, I was shocked and beaten, over and over, until I didn't have the strength left to fight back.

When I came to, the air reeked of disinfectant.

Two nurses stood by the door, chatting. "Mr. Vance is so sweet to his sister-in-law. And the boy is such a good kid."

They rolled their eyes in my direction. Their voices dropped to a murmur pitched just loud enough for me to hear.

"The woman in that bed? I heard she's a quack who got her own daughter killed. She deserves to rot."

"Mr. Vance is too soft-hearted. Someone like her should be locked up for life."

I fumbled for my phone and typed out a message.

Dad, the ten-year pact is up. I lost the bet. I'll be home soon.

I endured a week in the hospital before I was finally discharged.

Meanwhile, Pamela was out enjoying herself, with Leon by her side.

When I saw Pamela's social media posts, I felt nothing. Not a flicker.

There was a time when Leon's tenderness toward Pamela would have sent me into a jealous frenzy. I'd scream. I'd cry. I'd lose myself completely.

Leon only ever had one response: "My brother died young. His widow has no one. Can't you just be a little more understanding?"

We'd fight. We'd argue. It always ended the same way.

His scales had never tipped in my favor. Not once.

I dragged my hollowed-out body to the front door and heard Hayden throwing a tantrum inside.

"I don't want that awful woman at my parent-teacher conference! She'll embarrass me!"

The moment he saw me, Hayden kicked a soccer ball straight at me.

I couldn't dodge in time. The ball slammed into my arm, and I sucked in a sharp breath through my teeth.

"Idiot! Can't even catch a ball!"

I looked down at my hands, hanging limp and useless at my sides. A bitter ache spread through my chest.

These hands had once been called the Golden Hands. Inside the psychiatric facility, every finger had been broken. I would never hold a scalpel again.

Something strange flickered across Leon's face as he watched my expression crumble.

"Hayden! That's rude!" he snapped, though the reprimand barely had any teeth.

Hayden pouted and tugged at Pamela's arm, whining. "But I want Mama Pamela to go! If that awful woman shows up, I'll die of embarrassment!"

Leon's expression softened immediately. "Fine. They'll both go. How's that?"

I stood rooted in place, pale-faced, swaying on unsteady legs.

Leon took it as defiance.

His gaze swept over me, cold as a blade. "Gloria, stop playing the victim. If you refuse to go, every single person on staff in this house loses their pay this month."

The words had barely left his mouth before every housekeeper by the door turned to stare at me, resentment burning in their eyes.

I clenched my fists, said nothing, and got in the car.

At the school, a teacher was selecting participants for the parent-child relay race, a one-mile run.

Pamela spoke up without hesitation. "Let Hayden run with his mother."

Hayden's small face scrunched in obvious disgust.

"Go on," Leon said flatly.

Hayden didn't dare disobey. He settled for glaring at me with all the venom a child could muster.

I hesitated. "I just got out of the hospital. I can't run."

Before the last word left my lips, someone shoved me hard from behind. I stumbled forward, nearly falling.

I spun around. Pamela stood there, smiling at me, triumph glittering in her eyes.

The starting gun fired. I gritted my teeth and managed a few staggering steps before my foot slipped out from under me. I hit the ground hard, the impact jarring through every bone.

Cold sweat poured down my face. I tried to push myself up, but my arms wouldn't obey.

Laughter erupted all around me.

I braced my arms against the ground and lifted my head. "Hayden, help me up. I can't stand."

No one answered.

I looked up. Pamela had already taken Hayden by the hand and walked away without so much as a backward glance.

"Gloria?"

A white-haired old man stood before me, his grandson at his side.

My vision blurred instantly. "Dr. Edwin Hartwell Hartwell... you're here too..."

He let out a cold scoff. "Making a spectacle of yourself in public. I don't have a student like you. You've disgraced every doctor who ever held a scalpel."

Tears pooled in my eyes. My lips parted, but nothing came out.

He turned and walked away. Something clamped down hard around my chest, squeezing until I couldn't breathe.

The race ended. The crowd thinned to nothing.

I dragged myself up from the ground, bruised and filthy, just in time to see Leon helping Pamela and Hayden into the car in the distance.

The car pulled away. No one had waited for me.

The house was empty when I got back. Not a single soul.

I picked up my phone and scrolled to the post Pamela had just shared.

A Western restaurant. She sat beside Leon and Hayden, all of them smiling, looking every inch the perfect little family.

I stared at that photo for a long time. Then I dialed a number.

"Draw up a divorce agreement for me."

I slipped into Leon's office when no one was around, tucking the papers into the middle of the thick stack of documents on his desk.

When the time was right, I'd pull them back out.

It was late when Leon finally came home.

When he lay down beside me, I closed my eyes and pretended to be asleep.

Then his arm slid around me from behind, pulling me close.

"Gloria."

My entire body went rigid.

His hand began to wander. Nausea surged up from my stomach, and I shoved him away hard.

His temper flared. "What is your problem? You've been acting strange ever since you got back. I already told youjust behave yourself, cure Pamela's illness, and this family goes back to the way it was."

The blood drained from my face. "You really think we can go back to the way it was?"

He frowned. "Why wouldn't we?"

I said nothing more.

Sometime in the dead of night, the faint smell of smoke drifted into my half-conscious mind.

A familiar terror seized me instantly. My eyes flew open.

The room was already on fire. Thick smoke billowed across the ceiling, and the crackle of flames came from every direction.

"Leon?" I called out. No answer.

Then I heard itHayden's crying.

I threw myself into his room like a woman possessed. He was barely conscious, his small face blackened with soot, each breath shallower than the last.

I scooped him into my arms and ran.

The moment I reached the hallway, a wall of flame erupted in front of me.

I gathered every ounce of strength in my arms and pushed Hayden through the doorway, clear of the fire.

That was when I saw Leon on the other side of the hall, Pamela cradled in his arms, charging toward the exit.

My throat was raw, scorched by smoke. I forced out every last bit of air in my lungs. "Leon! Help"

He didn't even slow down. Didn't turn his head. Just kept running with Pamela in his arms.

He never once looked my way.

My hand dropped to my side. Smoke stung my eyes until tears streamed down my cheeks, and my consciousness faded piece by piece.

"Gloria!"

Leon's voice. From somewhere far away.

But I couldn't tell anymore whether he was really calling my name, or whether my dying mind was just telling me what I wanted to hear.

When I woke up in the hospital, Leon was sitting beside the bed.

He looked exhausted. A flicker of guilt passed through his eyes, there and gone.

I struggled to sit up, reaching for water. He pressed my shoulder back down.

"Easy. You were out for three days. Don't push it."

"Ohonce you're discharged, we'll move to the villa on the west side of the city."

My lips were cracked and dry.

"Leon, you can stop pretending you care. Whether I live or die doesn't actually matter to you, does it?"

"I'm nothing but Pamela's walking blood bag."

I pulled the blanket higher. "Don't worry. I'll rest up and recover like a good girl."

And then I'll disappear for good.

His expression darkened with irritation. He opened his mouth to say something, but his phone erupted in a frenzy of vibrations.

He answered, and whatever he heard changed his face completely. He turned and walked out without another word.

I tugged the corner of my mouth into a bitter, self-mocking smile.

That was when my own phone buzzed.

A message from an unknown number.

"Want to know who killed your daughter?"

Before I could even process it, a courier walked in and handed me a paper bag.

I tore it open. My entire body went rigid.

A pink hair clip. My daughter's pink hair clip.

My hand shook so badly I nearly dropped it.

I'd always suspected the fire was connected to Pamela. But the person who actually set it had never been found.

I hesitated for only a moment. Then I ripped the IV needle from my arm, changed into my clothes, and followed the address printed on the bag.

It led me to a bar.

I scanned the room and spotted them in a shadowed corner. Leon and Pamela.

They were arguing.

"You don't even like me, so why do you care which man I have a drink with?" Pamela yanked her hand free, her voice trembling with practiced hurt. "I ran into someone I knew. We had a couple of drinks. And you beat him up for it."

"Besides, your brother's been gone for years. Even if I meet someone new, what's wrong with that?"

Leon gripped her arm, his eyes burning with a fire that could have scorched through bone.

"I don't care. I won't have you hanging around men like that."

"And you're still sick."

Pamela suddenly cupped his face in both hands, her voice dropping low. "Leon, is it really so hard to admit you love me?"

Then she kissed him.

His body stiffened. But he didn't push her away.

The kiss deepened until they were both breathless.

I stood in the dark, fingernails digging crescents into my palms.

I turned and left.

She'd done it on purpose. Every second of it. She'd known I was watching the entire time.

By the time I reached the Vance mansion on the west side of the city, Pamela was already there.

She sat on the couch, watching me with a half-smile that wasn't quite a smile.

I drew a long breath.

"Pamela. What do you actually want?"

"What really happened that night?"

I stared at her, unblinking, my voice shaking. "I have nothing left. Are you satisfied now?"

The corner of Pamela's mouth curled upward.

"As long as Leon still considers you his wife, I will never be satisfied."

I looked at her coldly. "Relax. I lost interest in being Mrs. Vance a long time ago."

I turned and headed upstairs.

She followed.

"Gloria, if I were you, I would've hanged myself with a bedsheet years ago. Why bother staying alive?"

The next second, she lifted her foot and threw herself down the staircase.

"Ahhh!"

The scream ripped through the entire house.

A figure came charging in and scooped Pamela into his arms.

Leon's face was ashen with fury. "Gloria! What did you do?!"

The irony was so thick it nearly choked me. "I didn't push her."

Then Hayden burst out of his room.

Leon turned to him. "Hayden, tell Daddy. What did you see?"

The boy raised his hand and pointed straight at me.

"It was her! She pushed Mama Pamela!"

Leon's gaze swung back to me. The cold in his eyes seeped through my skin and settled into my bones.

Pamela groaned, clutching her leg. "I think my leg is broken... It hurts so much..."

Leon's voice cut through the air like ice. "Gloria. Children don't lie. I didn't think it was possible, but you're still the same jealous woman you've always been."

His jaw tightened. "Clearly, you won't learn unless I teach you a lesson."

He turned to his men. "Break her legs."

They closed in on me.

The moment I saw those cold, merciless faces, every memory from the psychiatric facility came flooding back. The restraints. The electroshock. Being pinned to the ground, unable to move.

I screamed. "Stay away! Stay away from me! Help! Don't touch me! Get back!"

My shrieking stopped them in their tracks.

Leon walked over and slammed me to the floor himself.

"Still putting on an act."

He didn't believe me.

He never had.

A single tear rolled down my cheek and hit the cold tile.

One of his men raised the baton and brought it down on my legs.

Once.

Then again.

The sound of bone cracking was unmistakable.

They didn't stop until I was crumpled on the ground, too broken to so much as twitch a finger.

"Take her to the hospital tomorrow morning."

Leon tossed those words over his shoulder, scooped Pamela into his arms, and left.

Hayden poked his head out from behind the door and stuck his tongue out at me. "Nyah nyah nyah! Stinky woman! Bad woman! You deserved it!"

In the darkness, I lay on the floor, drifting in and out of consciousness. Every time the pain dragged me awake, I wished it hadn't.

All those years. Wasted on the wrong people.

Leon. Hayden. Every single person in this house. Not one of them was worth holding on to anymore.

I didn't know how long I lay there before I managed to claw my phone out of my pocket and dial a number.

"Save... me..."

Hours later, the door was smashed open from outside.

I was lifted onto a stretcher and loaded into a helicopter.

Meanwhile, Leon had taken Pamela to the hospital.

The test results came back: her leg was fine. A few bruises, nothing more.

Only then did something seem to flicker in the back of his mind. He pulled out his phone and called one of his men.

"Bring my wife to the hospital for treatment."

The voice on the other end was shaking.

"Mr. Vance... there's blood everywhere. Your wife... she's gone."