He Married Me to Pay Off His Sins

On New Year’s Eve, the Ferris wheel trembled violently, plunging in its descent. Panic overwhelmed me as I clung to the unstable seat, my calls for help swallowed by the chaos.

Through the blinding flashes of fireworks, I spotted James—my fiancé—standing safely on the ground, holding the nanny’s daughter close. Desperation gripped me, and I shouted his name. He glanced up, his gaze cold and detached.

“I’m busy. Don’t bother me,” he replied curtly, dismissing me as if I were a stranger.

By the time I was rushed to the hospital, my panic attack had rendered me breathless, my heart racing to a breaking point. James arrived reluctantly, the only semblance of family I had. His eyes swept over my pale, tearstreaked face, filled with unmistakable disdain.

“Charlotte,” he hissed, “do you have to cause trouble today? If you want to die, do it far away from me.”

Without waiting for a response, he turned on his heel, taking Mia’s hand in his. The sight of them walking away tore at my chest.

Curled up on the cold hospital bed, I sobbed uncontrollably. My anguish consumed me, dragging me into another wave of panic. My heart stuttered and stopped, leaving me teetering on the edge of life. After a desperate battle in the ICU, I regained consciousness, trembling fingers fumbling for my phone.

A single thought burned through my haze: I couldn’t stay here any longer. I needed to leave.

——

Memories of James’ promises haunted me. He’d said he’d take me to ride the Ferris wheel that night, to confess his love in a place closest to the heavens so we could seal our bond for eternity. But instead, he abandoned me. He took Mia to watch the fireworks, her whims outweighing every vow he’d made to me.

Determined for answers, I asked the driver to follow them to the amusement park. Confronting him, my voice quivered with betrayal.

“Didn’t you promise to ride the Ferris wheel with me tonight?”

James frowned, his irritation evident. Behind him, Mia clutched his arm like a helpless rabbit.

“I told you, I’m busy. I’ll make it up to you tomorrow,” he said dismissively.

Refusing to back down, I reached out to pull him toward me, but he shoved me away with startling force.

“Charlotte, you’re pathetic. Do you really still believe in such childish promises?” His words cut deeper than any wound.

I reached out to grab Mia, desperate to disrupt the scene unraveling before me, but James shoved me away again. His movements were swift, protective, as if shielding her from me.

“Don’t touch her!” he barked, his arms encircling her as though I was a threat.

In that moment, I realized I’d already lost him. He turned his back on me, guiding Mia away without a second glance, leaving me standing there, shattered and alone.

“Miss Wilson, your Ferris wheel reservation is coming up. Are you on your way?” the staff called, jolting me from my daze. I checked the time—it was nearly midnight.

I had planned everything for this moment: a private ride on the Ferris wheel, candles, a cake, and the perfect backdrop for James’ promised confession. I wanted it to be magical, a memory we’d treasure forever. But now, James had broken his promise, leaving me to face the night alone.

My phone buzzed incessantly, friends eagerly asking about James' grand gesture. Their excitement was a cruel contrast to the reality unraveling before me. Fighting the sting of tears, I forced myself toward the Ferris wheel.

As it began its ascent, the amusement park below stretched into a dazzling canvas of lights and shadows. At the highest point, I lit the candles on the cake and snapped a photo, posting it with a caption designed to mask my heartache, “The most special time, the most special day, with you.”

In the photo, I smiled softly, as if this moment was everything I’d hoped for. My friends flooded the post with well wishes, their comments filled with joy and hope.

“May you and James be happy forever!”

But the fragile illusion shattered in an instant. Mia’s Instagram post appeared on my feed, mocking my carefully constructed lie.

“The most beautiful fireworks in life—he said he’d set them off just for me.”

Her photo captured James holding her hand, their faces illuminated by the vibrant bursts of fireworks. Mia’s smile radiated pure joy, a stark contrast to the emptiness consuming me.

After Mia’s post appeared, the friends who had just left cheerful messages under mine began flooding me with questions, “Weren’t you spending New Year’s Eve with James? Who’s the one in Mia’s photo?”

“No way! Am I seeing things? Shameless Mia spent New Year’s Eve with you two?”

“Charlotte, what’s going on? Did you and James break up?”

Their words blurred together, each question a dagger twisting in my chest. I stared at the screen, struggling to think of a response, my mind reeling. Before I could type a single word, a notification appeared that shattered what little composure I had left.

James had liked Mia’s Instagram. Below her photo, he commented:

“The most beautiful fireworks in life—I’ll be there to set them off with you, always.”

The betrayal in his words felt like a knife slicing through me. My breath caught as I watched the friends who had been so eager to celebrate with me quietly delete their comments from my post, as if erasing their presence would erase my humiliation.

I smiled bitterly, deleted my Instagram post, and exited the application. Turning off my phone, I wiped away the tears streaming down my face and gazed into the distance.

Fireworks burst in the sky, their dazzling colors blooming and fading in mere Instagram. They reminded me of James' love—brilliant and fleeting, disappearing without a trace.

As I sank deeper into my sorrow, something unexpected happened. The Ferris wheel, now parked at its highest point, jolted violently and began to fall uncontrollably. Panic surged through me as I fumbled for my phone to call the staff.

The staff worked frantically, trying every possible measure to prevent disaster, but their efforts seemed futile. My chest tightened, and desperation overtook me. In a haze of fear, I dialed James' number, hoping to hear his voice one last time.

“James, the Ferris wheel is out of control. I’m so scared,” I stammered, my voice trembling as I clung to the railings for dear life.

His cold reply cut through the chaos like a blade, “I’m busy. Don’t bother me.”

The line went dead. My heart plummeted, mirroring the Ferris wheel’s descent. I shut my eyes, bracing for the inevitable, the ground rushing closer with every passing second.

A deafening crash echoed around me, and I waited, resigned to my fate, my heart numb with despair. But just as disaster seemed unavoidable, the Ferris wheel miraculously ground to a halt. I had been spared—barely.

The relief was shortlived. My panic disorder took hold, and I spiraled into uncontrollable shaking and screams. The staff rushed to my aid, and I was quickly taken to the hospital.

In the ambulance, terror consumed me, my screams piercing the air until the doctor administered enough sedatives to finally calm me down.

In the hospital, the doctor repeatedly asked me about my relatives, but fear had stolen my voice. My attempts to answer were fragmented and incoherent. Frustrated but gentle, the doctor unlocked my phone with Face ID and called my emergency contact.

“Hello! Are you Miss Mia of the Wilson’s family?”

I listened in silence as the doctor patiently explained my situation to the person on the other end of the line. Tears streamed down my face, unbidden and unstoppable.

My parents had both passed away in an accident years ago. James was the only person I had left, my designated emergency contact. But deep down, I knew he wouldn’t come—not tonight, not for me.

The sedatives began to take effect, pulling me into a heavy, dreamless sleep.

When I awoke, faint whispers and the sound of hurried pacing filled the room. My eyes fluttered open, and there he was—James—walking back and forth in front of my bed. His expression seemed anxious, almost frantic. For a fleeting moment, hope swelled within me.

He came. He still cares about me.

“James, she’s awake,” Mia’s soft, syrupy voice broke the spell.

James quickly approached me, his eyes scanning my pale, tearstreaked face. But instead of warmth or concern, all I saw in his gaze was cold indifference—and unmistakable disgust.

I opened my mouth, desperate to tell him everything: my fear during the accident, my longing for him, my pain. But before I could utter a single word, his cold voice slashed through the air like a blade, cutting me to pieces.

“Charlotte, do you have to create trouble today? If you want to die, do it far away.”

James' words hit me like a slap, his frown deepening as a wave of anger flickered in his eyes.

He took out my phone, the cold device, a stark contrast to the warmth I had once associated with him, and thrust it into my trembling hands. “Unlock it. Change the emergency contact.”

My heart clenched, and I whispered, voice trembling, “James, I don’t have anyone else. You’re the only family I have left.”

But my plea fell on deaf ears. His expression didn’t soften; his eyes showed no trace of pity or understanding. Instead, he repeated coldly, “Hurry up. Don’t make me say it again.”

My hands, still trembling from the lingering effects of the panic attack, couldn’t stop shaking long enough to type the password. Each failed attempt felt like another weight pressing down on my chest.

Mia’s voice broke the tension, her tone sweet yet piercing. “James, doesn’t she have Face ID? Just let her scan her face to unlock it and delete the contact. It’s faster that way.”

Mia’s words seemed to spark an idea in James. Without hesitation, he yanked me up from the bed, his grip firm and unyielding, and pressed my head against the phone to unlock it with Face ID.

The beep of success was a cruel sound. James wasted no time, scrolling through the settings and erasing his number from my emergency contacts.

“There,” he said coldly. “You’re in a hospital now. If anything happens, talk to the doctors. I’ll cover the bills, but don’t contact me again.”

He tossed the phone onto the bed, his disdain evident, then turned to Mia. Together, they began walking out of the room.

“James,” Mia said softly, glancing back at me with a mock expression of worry. “Are you sure this is okay? What if… she really doesn’t make it?”

James chuckled darkly, his voice dripping with scorn. “You’re overthinking. If she wanted to die, she’d have done it three years ago. She doesn’t have the guts for it.”

Mia let out a sigh of relief and turned to me with a sweet yet condescending smile. “Charlotte, take care of yourself, okay? James and I are going to celebrate the New Year. Don’t worry, I’ll visit you in a couple of days.”

Their footsteps faded, leaving the room silent but for the sound of my ragged breathing. I curled up under the quilt, my tears soaking the pillow as sobs wracked my body.

James was right. I should have died three years ago—in that disaster that took everything from me.

The weight of despair consumed me, and I spiraled into another panic attack. The piercing alarm of the ECG monitor echoed through the room, a frantic cry for help.

Doctors and nurses burst into the ward, their faces tense. “She’s in distress! Prepare for emergency resuscitation!”

“Charging, defibrillation at 200 Hz—clear!”

The doctor’s urgent voice faded as my consciousness blurred, and I slipped into an abyss of endless darkness.

In that darkness, memories from three years ago resurfaced—the disaster that shattered all my happiness.

I found myself reliving those days with James. We have known each other since childhood, growing up side by side. It wasn’t an exaggeration to call us childhood sweethearts.

That fateful summer, James had a fierce argument with his parents and, in his anger, insisted on running away. He dragged me along, and we ended up hiding in an abandoned mine.

We stayed there for an entire week, with no word from our families. At first, we were stubborn, believing they would come looking for us. But as the days passed, hope dwindled.

Finally, we ran out of food. The hunger and cold were unbearable. My body weakened, but I forced myself to carry James on my back, trembling as I dialed my parents for help.

The moment my parents heard where we had been, they came rushing to find us.

“You foolish child! I thought you were just out playing with James,” my mother cried, her voice thick with worry and heartbreak.

When I ran away with James, I was terrified of worrying my parents, so I left a note at home saying I was just going out to play with him for a few days.

I reassured my mom as she arrived, asking with concern, "I’m fine, Mom. Did you bring the things I wanted?" I comforted her, thinking I’d send them away once I had what I needed.

But my father, face tight with anxiety, wasn’t as understanding. “Do you still want to keep making trouble? No, you two need to go back today,” he insisted.

He stormed into the mine to look for James, his frustration palpable.

“Traitor! Charlotte, you’re a traitor!” My father’s angry voice echoed as he dragged James out of the mine, who was clearly unwilling to go.

Seeing James' resistance, my mother stepped forward, trying to calm him down.

“James, your parents are worried about you. Come back with us.”

But James, stubborn as ever, seized the moment when my father was distracted. He slammed the car door on my dad’s hand and ran back toward the mine.

Ignoring his injury, my father immediately ran after him, leaving my mother to hold my hand, urging me to wait outside.

Minutes later, James emerged from the mine, his face full of panic.

He pointed urgently at the mine. “Aunt Marie, go save Uncle Lester!”

My mother didn’t hesitate. She sprinted into the mine, and I immediately followed. James tried to stop me, but I was too quick, and he had no choice but to come along.

The mine was thick with smoke, and the scene inside was chaos. My father was pinned under a mass of falling rocks, his body struggling but immobile.

My mother rushed toward him, but another wave of rocks struck her, sending her crashing to the ground. Blood pooled around her, and she lay there, weak and on the verge of death.

“Charlotte, go! It’s dangerous here! Leave with James! Quickly!”

My mother screamed at me with all her strength.

Ignoring the thick smoke and choking dust, I ran into the mine, desperate to reach her. The moment my hands touched her, the entire mine collapsed.

The smoke engulfed me, and rocks rained down, knocking me unconscious.

When I finally regained consciousness, I saw the anxious face of James' mother.

"Charlotte, you’re awake. You almost gave your aunt a heart attack."

I tried to sit up, my voice weak with concern. "Aunt Lorie, where's my mother? Where's my father? Are they okay?"

Her face instantly shifted to panic, but she quickly forced a smile.

"Charlotte, your parents are fine. They're in another ward," she reassured me, though her words sounded hollow.

I could see through her attempt to comfort me. I didn’t believe her flimsy explanation. "Take me to see them," I insisted.

Seeing that she could no longer hide the truth, she called out to James, standing outside the door, and ordered him to kneel in front of me.

"Charlotte," James' mother said, her voice trembling, "your parents are gone. It’s all James' fault. But don’t worry, the Donovan Family will take care of you."

Hearing this, it felt as though I had been struck by lightning. My mind went completely blank.

After a brief moment of numbness, panic gripped me, and I began to scream uncontrollably, lashing out at the people around me.

The mining disaster that took my parents had already left me with deep scars, and now I was sinking deeper into the abyss of panic disorder.

To "make it right," the Donovan Family arranged a marriage between James and me. James showed no resistance to this arrangement. In fact, over the past three years, he had treated me with kindness and care.

But everything changed when Mia entered the picture.

Mia was the daughter of the Donovan Family’s livein nanny. She came to live with them just a year after I got engaged to James. Aunt Lorie, who had a great fondness for Mia’s mother, agreed to let her stay with the Donovan Family, understanding how hard it was for Mia’s mother to raise her alone.

From that moment on, I felt like everything I had in the Donovan Family was slowly slipping away, unseen and unnoticed, as Mia quietly took it all.

Mia was everything I was not—gentle, sensible, and obedient. She could make Aunt Lorie and Uncle Dan laugh with just a few wellchosen words. Everyone in the Donovan Family adored her, except for James.

At first, James looked down on Mia, seeing her as nothing more than a rustic girl.

Since Mia transferred to the class where James and I were studying, James began to bully her relentlessly, finding every opportunity to embarrass her.

Despite the harsh treatment she faced at school, Mia never mentioned it when she returned to the Donovan Family. Instead, she showered James with praise in every possible way.

Over time, James' attention and care toward Mia grew, far surpassing any concern he had for me.

I sensed the growing distance between us and, in a desperate attempt to reclaim my place, I began to trouble Mia, thinking that as the future mistress of the Donovan Family, I could put her in her place.

I believed that by doing this, I would make Mia hesitate and somehow win James back. But instead of bringing us closer, everything I did only pushed James further away and gave Mia more opportunities to gain his favor.

I still remember the anniversary of my parents' death this year. James came to me, fuming with anger.

In front of my parents' grave, he pointed at my nose and shouted, "Charlotte, you’ve gone too far! How could you call Mia a bastard?"

His baseless accusation left me stunned. Friends and relatives who had come to pay their respects to my parents quickly stepped in, trying to calm James down.

"I don't know whether Mia is a bastard, but I do know that you're a jinx who killed your own parents," James spat.

The attempts of relatives and friends to calm him down only seemed to fuel his anger, and he insulted me without restraint.

In a burst of frustration and pain, I slapped him across the face. The sharp sound of the impact silenced the moment, leaving Uncle Dan and Aunt Lorie, who were standing beside him, frozen in shock.

"James, you say this to me in front of my parents' grave? Do you have any conscience left?"

James, stunned by the slap, raised his hand to retaliate, but Uncle Dan and Aunt Lorie quickly motioned for the bodyguards to step in and pull him away.

On the way back to the Donovan Family villa, Uncle Dan turned to me with a cold expression. "Charlotte, you were too impulsive today. You shouldn't have said that about Mia, and you definitely shouldn't have slapped James in front of so many people."

I quickly denied it, not wanting him to misunderstand me. "I didn’t say that."

But when I saw the deep helplessness and disgust in his eyes, I realized that my words and actions had already left their mark.

Once home, I locked myself in my room and refused to eat or drink. For three days, Aunt Cecille—whom I had brought with me from the Wilson Family—was the only one to visit.

"Miss, calm down. This isn’t the Wilson Family," she said, her eyes red from concern.

I looked at her, voice shaky. "Aunt Cecille, where are James and the others?"

Her hesitation made me press harder. "Tell me, where did they go?"

"They went to celebrate Miss Anderson’s birthday," Aunt Cecille replied reluctantly.

"Miss Anderson? Who is Miss Anderson? How come I don’t know anything about her?"

Aunt Cecille seemed panicked, kneeling before me. "Miss, please, this is the Donovan Family. Just lower your head for now. Please beg Mr. Donovan to marry quickly, or… sooner or later…"

I remained silent, unshaken by her pleas. Seeing that I wasn’t moved, Aunt Cecille sighed, left the food by my door, and walked out, shaking her head.

I felt an overwhelming sense of grievance when I saw the cold leftovers left by Aunt Cecille. But how could I, someone who had always prided myself on being strong, bow to James? Let alone beg the Donovan Family to rush my marriage to him.

But everything changed when I witnessed that scene with my own eyes. I couldn’t sit still any longer. Determined, I pushed every possible avenue to advance the date of my wedding with James. After much effort, it was finally set for a week after New Year's Day.

Recalling that day, an endless wave of anger surged within me, like a raging fire burning away the darkness. As my consciousness cleared, I began to hear the doctor’s voice: "Rescued. Vital signs stable. Transferred to ICU for observation."

In the ICU, surrounded by medical equipment, I suddenly realized that James wasn't as important to me as I once thought.

I called out loudly for the nurse, asking her to help me hold the phone. My hands shook as I dialed the number. The familiar voice on the other end broke through the numbness, and tears welled up in my eyes.

I regretted everything. I wanted to escape it all.

I stayed in the ICU for three days before the Donovan Family finally arrived. Seeing me so frail, Aunt Lorie started to wipe away her tears.

"Don't worry, I'm lucky. I didn’t die," I said coldly, pushing away her sympathy.

"Charlotte, don't say that. You will definitely get better," Aunt Lorie said, her voice soft as she fed me porridge. But I could no longer detect any trace of genuine heartache in her eyes.

When I stayed silent, she tried to explain herself. "I thought you were celebrating the New Year with James. I didn't know you had an accident. James was supposed to come today, but there are some things at the company he needs to handle personally. He'll come to see you tomorrow."

"I'm tired and want to rest. Please leave for now," I said, my voice flat.

Seeing that I wasn’t moved, Aunt Lorie placed the bowl of porridge down and left.

I picked up my phone and scrolled through my friends' circle.

To my surprise, James had taken Mia to Uncle Dan. In the photo, they were hugging each other, looking every bit like a couple in love. As I stared at their smiling faces, I couldn't help but feel that they looked so perfect together.

A message popped up on Instagram: "When are you being discharged? I’ll book your flight."

"About a week. I’ll book the earliest flight in seven days."

After replying, I set my phone down, lost in thought about the arrangements I needed to make before leaving the country.

The next day, James stood in front of me, looking reluctant, as Aunt Lorie had urged him to come.

"Charlotte, it's my fault. I shouldn't have left you for the company's business. I was wrong."

James' apology came with a pious expression, making me doubt if everything that happened on New Year's Eve had been nothing more than a cruel illusion.

"Will you forgive me? The doctor said that anger isn't good for your recovery. How can we get married if you don't recover well?"

Aunt Lorie, standing beside him, nodded in agreement. "James is right. The wedding is next week. Charlotte, you need to get better soon."

I forced a smile and said to James, "It's all my fault for not being more careful. I knew I wasn't feeling well, but I still went to the Ferris wheel, causing you and Aunt Lorie unnecessary worry."

Both James and Aunt Lorie froze for a moment at my words, but they quickly recovered.

"It's all in the past. What's important is that you're safe. Let's not dwell on the unhappy things," Aunt Lorie said quickly.

James gave a small sigh of relief, but his tone shifted when he spoke to me again. "Charlotte, you need to rest. You’re not allowed to go anywhere today. You need to stay in the hospital and recover."

A hint of reluctance flashed across his face as he glanced toward Aunt Lorie, but he held back any anger, choosing not to argue.

"No," I said firmly. "I want to go home."

"Anyway, there's a doctor at home, and I might recover faster if I rest there," I said, determined to go home.

Seeing that I was insistent, James immediately stepped out to handle the discharge procedures.

When we arrived at the door of the Donovan Family villa, I saw Mia waiting anxiously, like a stone waiting for its master.

James opened the car door for me and helped me out.

"My legs feel weak. Can you hold me?" I said to him in a soft, almost pleading tone.

Just as he was about to respond, Mia called him from behind. He opened his mouth to refuse, but before he could speak, Aunt Lorie hurriedly urged, "James, hold Charlotte quickly! It's so cold outside—don't let her catch a cold."

Reluctantly, James extended his arms, and I climbed up onto his shoulders with both hands, curling into his warmth. His breath was warm against my cheek, and a blush spread across my face.

As we stood there, Mia approached us quickly, but when she saw James holding me, she froze at the door, blocking the way without any intention of stepping aside.