My Wife Blinded Me for Love, Now I See Everything

I was playing hideandseek with my daughter Bella when it happened. Out of nowhere, my wife's stepbrother, Austin Schulz, pushed her off the fifthfloor balcony.

She died on the spot.

When I confronted him, the excuse he gave was so pathetic it barely qualified as human.

"It was dark. I didn't realize it was a person. I thought it was a stray dog. I got scared…"

I lost it.

"You couldn't tell the difference between a little girl and a dog? Are you blind?!"

I was screaming, my voice almost feral.

Bloodshot eyes and tearstreaked cheeks, my wife Jillian pulled me into a hug. She swore she'd make him pay for what he did to Bella.

Then, before I could fall apart, she drugged me.

When I woke up, I couldn't open my eyes.

My eyelids had been sewn shut.

They dumped me in some abandoned building, and the first voice I heard was my wife.

Jillian...

She stood there with Austin, clutching his arm as if he might break.

Her voice was sharp, flat, and cold as she said, "Austin lost his sight when he was a kid. He was bullied for it. What you said earlier was cruel and triggering."

She tilted her head and sneered, "You like calling people blind so much? Then go ahead. Try being blind yourself. Find your own way out."

I staggered forward, tripping into walls, smashing into rusted beams. Blood poured down my face, but I didn't stop.

Above me, their laughter rang out cruelly, as if they were waiting for the moment I broke down and fell to my knees, sobbing and begging for a shred of mercy.

But I didn't.

I turned toward the rooftop, my hands trailing the cold concrete wall as I moved. My fingers found the black diamond earring tucked behind my ear. No one else had noticed it.

I spoke quietly, "I want a new wife. Send a helicopter. You've got one hour."

——

Christian's POV

Right after I turned away, Jillian's friends—the trustfund clowns in designer boots—burst out laughing.

"Christian, are you serious right now?" one of them snorted. "Did you not hear her? She said, 'Get out of the building,' not climb it. Are you that blind?"

"Oh wait," someone else chimed in, "He actually is blind. Poor little charity case."

"Seriously, he should be grateful the Schulz family even took him in. And he still had the balls to insult Jillian's brother? Honestly, sewing his eyes shut was a generous act. They should've just cut them out."

"Hey, Blind man, need help finding your way?" another one jeered. "We can clap and snap for you like a good little guide dog."

They began making noise, mocking with barks and whistles, trying to lure me into crashing into the walls again, as if it were just a game.

The factory was freezing. I was dressed only in thin sleepwear, my skin already numb from the cold. I clung to the walls, searching for the stairs.

Up above, Jillian lounged on a leather couch, curled up with Austin. Worried he might get cold, she had people bring over a few mink blankets.

She leaned forward, watching me with distant amusement.

"Christian, cold, isn't it? In the shape you're in, there's no way you're making it out of here alone. So, how about this? You kneel. Apologize to Austin. I'll take you home right now."

I stopped, lifted my head in her direction. "Does what you said about avenging our daughter still stand?"

She must've thought I was finally caving.

Her tone softened slightly, almost sweet. "Of course. As soon as we get home, I'll ground Austin. Three hours. That should be enough for you, right?"

A sharp cold settled in my chest.

That was it?

That's what our daughter's life meant to her?

I looked straight ahead and kept my voice even.

"Jillian, listen carefully. I would rather die than apologize to the man who killed my child!"

The words hit like a hammer.

Austin's eyes filled with tears, perfectly timed.

"Jill, he still hates me," he sniffled. "I really didn't see her… If he hates me that much, I'll jump off this building and make it up to Bella!"

But I knew the truth.

I remembered exactly what I had seen.

I saw my daughter hanging from the balcony railing, her tiny fingers gripping tight. I saw her crying, begging her Uncle Austin for help.

And I saw his leather shoe stomp down on her hands—deliberately and violently.

Austin smiled when she fell.

Jillian's face turned hard.

"Christian, I know you've always been jealous of how much I care about Austin. But he's my brother. Of course, I take care of him. You're his brotherinlaw. Can't you be a little more generous?"

Christian's POV

"Besides, Bella's death was just an accident. If you hadn't been playing hideandseek with her, she'd still be alive. And you've got the nerve to blame Austin?!"

There it was again.

Whenever something involved Austin, Jillian would change the story. Logic, decency, and even common sense didn't matter as long as her beloved stepbrother was part of it.

And this wasn't the first time.

I still remember the mango incident like it happened yesterday. Bella was allergic, and Jillian was aware of it. We'd told everyone, made sure the whole damn house knew.

And Austin? He still gave her mango slices behind our backs like it was nothing.

I barely got a word out when I confronted him.

That same night, Jillian flew back from a trip overseas, stormed into the house, and shoved a bottle of hard liquor into my hands.

She made me drink the entire thing.

It didn't matter that I was allergic to alcohol, too.

Within minutes, I was breaking out in rashes, gasping for air as my throat started to close up. I stumbled to the medicine cabinet, only to find it completely cleaned out. Not a single allergy pill left.

Jillian stood there with her arms crossed, totally unfazed.

"Austin just brought her some fruit, alright? Vitamins and stuff," she said, like that made perfect sense. "He was trying to be nice. Do you really have to make a federal case out of it? What kind of brotherinlaw acts like this, anyway?"

Then she chucked a notebook at me.

"Write out the Schulz family rules. Ten times. No meds until you're done."

That night, I almost died choking on my own breath.

There were countless moments like that. I had been a fool to think Jillian would truly defend Bella or me.

Unable to forget those painful memories, I chose not to respond to her. I just kept moving forward, feeling my way through the dark until my hand found the stair railing.

But the second I grabbed it, my foot slipped. My knee slammed into the concrete with a crunch, blood pouring down my leg.

I heard the slight catch in Jillian's breath. For a moment, I thought she might actually get up.

But Austin beat her to it with a perfectly timed, tragic sigh.

"I really envy Christian," he said with this fake wistfulness. "He only had his eyelids sewn shut. When I lost my sight for a bit as a kid, the bullying was brutal. There were these kids... they shoved explosive salt in my eyes. The burning was unbearable."

Austin sniffled like a damn soap opera actor, letting a few crocodile tears roll down.

"After I got better, Mom and I moved in with the Schulz family. I thought the pain was over. I thought I'd finally be safe. But people still call me blind. Still mock me. It hurts, Jill. It really does."

Right on cue, Jillian's whole expression snapped cold.

"Christian," she said through clenched teeth, "you just had to bring up that word. You triggered him."

Then she turned to the butler.

"Go grab ten bottles of 99% pepper spray. Pour them into his eye slits."

Before I could react, the butler and the rest of those spoiled rich bastards pinned me to the floor. My eyelids had been stitched shut so tightly that they had to tear the skin to open them.

And then it began.

One bottle at a time, straight into my exposed, raw eyes.

The burn wasn't just surfacelevel. It tore straight through me, into the nerves, into the bone. My scream came from somewhere deep, almost animal. I couldn't stop it.

One of the rich kids laughed and grabbed a bottle, then forced it into my mouth.

"Let's clean that dirty mouth of his, too. Might make him think twice before talking back to Austin."

Austin added, "Hey, easy. If you mess up his throat, how's he supposed to apologize later?"

I coughed until I thought my lungs would tear themselves apart. Tears, spit, bile—it all poured out of me as I fought to stay conscious through the burn.

Still blind, still trembling, I searched until my fingers grasped a liquor bottle nearby. I threw it with all my remaining strength in Austin's direction.

"I don't want your fake sympathy, you murderer! You didn't just hurt me—you took a child's life. My daughter. Don't worry, she might just come for you in your dreams!"

However, the bottle lacked sufficient force or reach. It crashed harmlessly on the floor.

Austin let out a shriek and jumped straight into Jillian's arms like some helpless child.

"Jill, he really does hate me. He wants me dead. I'm scared. I wish I had caught Bella. I really do…"

Jillian stroked his back like she was comforting a crying child. Then she turned to me with pure venom in her eyes.

"Christian, you've seriously lost it. Blind and still causing trouble? And now you're trying to hurt Austin, too? Apologize. Right now."

I didn't say a word.

Instead, I turned and placed my foot on the staircase.

That's when Jillian's patience finally snapped.

"Bring in the beer cases." Her tone dropped several degrees below freezing.

Then, she pointed at me like I was a target in a carnival game. "Christian likes throwing bottles, huh? Good. Let's give him more. From now on, every single hit on him earns $10 million. No limit."

Everyone cheered with excitement.

Ten million per bottle. No cap.

And I was the prize.

Christian's POV

It wasn't just the usual crowd anymore. Even the bored, spoiled trust fund brats were suddenly wideeyed with excitement, practically bouncing on their heels.

Then, with a sharp crack, a glass bottle nailed me in the side of the head and exploded on impact. The sting of alcohol combined with the warmth of blood as both flowed down my face. My head spun, everything around me lurching sideways like a ride gone off the rails.

The punk who scored the hit shrieked with glee, skipping to collect their $10 million prize from Jillian as if they hit the jackpot.

I didn't have time to be a sitting duck. I knew if I stood there like some helpless target, I'd get torn apart. So I forced myself forward.

I had to keep moving.

That first throw got everyone fired up. Bottles started flying everywhere, crashing like a storm of glass and cheap whiskey. Most of them missed, breaking harmlessly on the stairs around me, but that only made the next volley more reckless.

By the time the last one broke, the entire staircase looked like a war zone. Jagged shards coated the steps like a minefield.

I had been so focused on dodging that I didn't notice until my foot landed wrong, slipped, and I crashed facefirst into the floor.

Agony ripped through me.

Glass tore into my skin like razors, slicing across my arms, my chest, my hands. Blood poured freely, painting a crimson trail across the dirty concrete.

Off to the side, the butler leaned toward Jillian, her voice low but nervous. "Miss Schulz, Sir Christian already has anemia. If this keeps up, he might bleed out…"

Jillian gave a small smile, her tone light and almost chipper. "I know. That's why I told the maid to make him some ironrich soup."

Then she added, casually flipping her hair out of her face, "This is all just to teach Christian a lesson. So he stops bullying Austin."

She gave me another onceover, her expression flat.

"Besides, didn't you see? He keeps heading for the rooftop. It's dangerous up there. If he falls, that's on him. Maybe once he sees the stairs are covered in broken glass, he'll come to his senses."

But what she didn't see coming was that even with my body shredded, bleeding, and half broken, I still managed to get back up.

Trembling, I pushed myself up from the ground.

One foot in front of the other, I kept climbing. Every step drove glass deeper into the soles of my feet. My shoes were soaked with blood by the time I reached the third stair.

Behind me, the crowd quieted, and even Jillian's smirk faltered as she looked uneasy, maybe realizing this wasn't going as she thought.

But before guilt could settle, Austin leaned into her side, his voice soft and whiny like a lovesick teen.

"Jill, can't you tell? Christian is doing this just to get under your skin. He knows damn well there's no exit that way. He's just too proud to admit he's wrong."

Then he paused, let the silence do the talking.

"All those guys who marry into wealthy families? They know how to behave. They'd crawl through fire just to please their wives. But Christian? He keeps fighting back. Always challenging you."

Austin lowered his voice to ensure she caught the next line. "Sometimes I wonder... does he even love you? If he doesn't, then why'd he marry into the Schulz family to begin with?"

And that was all it took.

Jillian's face darkened like a storm cloud rolling in.

"So that's it," she snapped. "All that sweettalking, all that playing the loyal husband—it was all just a damn act? You're just like every other golddigging pretty boy. You played me into marrying you. All for the money!"

Her voice dropped colder, eyes narrowing like a blade.

"You wanna keep playing tough? Keep pushing your luck? Fine. Let's break your legs and see how far that attitude takes you."

Two of the wealthy kids stepped forward, baseball bats already in their hands and matching grins across their smug faces.

I barely had time to brace.

One of the bats came down hard on my knee, and I heard the crunch before I felt it.

I dropped, my whole body buckling under the pain. My knees hit the glass, and more shards tore into me like they were hungry for blood.

I never thought it'd come to this.

I never thought the woman I once loved would stand there and watch while I was beaten like an animal.

Following her car crash, she completely lost her memory of her identity. I discovered her, almost unresponsive, by the roadside. I dedicated every penny I had to healing her. Six months of my life vanished in the process.

I cleaned her wounds, fed her, kept her warm, and helped her recover her ability to walk. I gave her everything.

She once looked me dead in the eyes and told me she'd make me the happiest man alive.

To buy me a watch for my birthday, she took on three delivery jobs. She delivered food all night just to make it happen. She handed me that watch with the brightest smile I've ever seen.

"Christian," she said, "one day, I'll give you the best the world has to offer."

But everything changed the second she regained her memory, rejoined the Schulz family, and had a private talk with Austin.

After that, everything changed.

She constantly looked at me with suspicion, doubting everything I said, while trusting Austin completely.

And to protect the man who murdered our daughter, she had my eyes sewn shut, dumped me in this hellhole, and let these people humiliate and torture me.

I should have seen it coming. We may have been a mistake from the start.

Still bleeding, trembling, I reached for the black diamond earring I'd kept hidden. My fingertips found it.

I took a breath and once again said calmly, "I want a new wife. Send the helicopter. You've got one hour."

Christian's POV

"You've got 20 minutes left."

By the time I dragged my busted legs to the rooftop, Jillian stormed up after me like a woman unhinged. She stomped over, grabbed my earlobe, and yanked the black diamond earring straight out.

"Christian, who the hell were you talking to just now?" Her eyes burned with suspicion.

The rest of the spoiled rich crowd came spilling in behind her, ready to fan the flames.

"I saw it too," one of them said, pointing right at me. "Guy's head was gushing blood, and the first thing he did was grab that earring and start whispering like a lunatic. Gotta admit… it was creepy."

"Right?" someone else jumped in. "At first, I thought it was something sentimental—like, maybe Jillian gave it to him or something, and he was being all tragic with it. But I guess not?"

Austin stepped in and took the earring, examining it between his fingers.

"Jill, I studied jewelry design, remember? This is a rare, toptier black diamond. If you didn't give it to him, there's no way Christian could've afforded something like this on his own. And yet… he clings to it like it's his last breath."

Then he paused, made a little show of pretending to hold back a gasp.

"Wait… Christian, don't tell me this was from a secret lover? Is that what this is about? That's why you've been trying to get up here, right? So you can throw yourself off the roof like Romeo in some tearjerker farewell to your dead girlfriend?"

He blinked, all innocent.

"No wonder Bella didn't really look like you, Jill. Don't tell me…you were just a standin. Like a surrogate or something—"

Before he could finish, Jillian's face went ghostwhite. Then it flushed dark with rage.

She threw the earring to the ground and shrieked, "Christian! You cheated on me?! Answer me! Was Bella even my daughter?!"

"Honestly, I wish she weren't," I said, my voice flat. "Because you never deserved to be her mother."

With a grimace, I uttered, "Jillian, I want a divorce!"

She laughed coldly.

"So it's true. You really were hung up on that tramp. She's dead, and all this time you've been mourning her behind my back? That's why you kept that worthless little thing she left behind?"

Then, Jillian snapped her fingers.

"Fine. You like crying? Let's help you out. Somebody bring up thirty canisters of tear gas. Let's make sure he cries until there's nothing left."

I stared at her, stunned for a second. I didn't think she could get more twisted.

The butler stepped forward, clearly rattled. "Miss Schulz, even one canister is enough to take down a trained soldier. With Sir Christian's condition, his body can't handle that. Thirty will cause total respiratory collapse. He might not make it."

Jillian didn't even look up. She calmly pulled a mink coat around Austin's shoulders, helping him slip on a protective mask, just as she would tuck a child in for bed.

"Relax," she said with a soft smile. "They're prankgrade. The worst thing that can happen is that he sneezes and tears up a little. He'll be fine."

She adjusted Austin's collar and continued, "Christian made Austin cry. I'm just restoring the balance. He needs to learn what being a decent brotherinlaw means."

Seconds later, I heard the faint hiss of gas canisters popping open one by one.

Then the smoke started to curl in, soft at first, like fog on a cold morning. But it hit fast.

It shot up my nose, burned its way down my throat, and clawed into my lungs like fire. But it didn't just sting.

It felt like my entire body was turning inside out.

My chest and stomach burned from within, not from any external source. It felt as if something inside me was tearing apart, piece by piece.

I dropped to the ground, writhing in agony.

That was when I realized.

This wasn't tear gas. It was poison gas.

Every spot the smoke touched, my wounds began to bubble and blister, the flesh turning black and rancid. The pain was beyond anything I'd ever felt. My skin wasn't just burning, it was dying.

The butler stumbled back, roaring, "The color's wrong! Miss Schulz, this isn't tear gas! I've seen this before while serving in the military. This is militarygrade chemical warfare! It shuts down organs from the inside out. If we don't get him out now, he's dead!"

But Jillian just kept fixing Austin's coat, brushing imaginary lint from his sleeve like it was a damn photoshoot.

Her voice stayed cool. "It's just a little smoke. Don't overreact. You're going to scare Austin."

"Besides," she said lightly, "the doctors say crying helps with detox. It's healthy."

She turned to wave him off, but then she froze when she finally saw it.

The smoke was not white.

It was a sickly, glowing yellowgreen hue, and every cell in the body recognized what that meant, even if one had never seen it before.

It means death.

Christian's POV

I lay in the middle of that toxic haze, my body convulsing so violently it felt like my spine might snap. My skin had turned a sickly, purplishblack, and every wound on me had begun to fester like rot. Thick, dark blood seeped from the corners of my mouth, slow and steady.

Jillian's face turned ghostwhite, and genuine panic overtook her. She pushed Austin aside and started yelling at the crowd around her.

"I told you to bring prankgrade tear gas! The harmless kind! What the hell happened? How the hell did this turn into poison gas?!"

Frantic, Jillian shouted, "Shut it off! All of it, now! If anything happens to Christian, I swear, none of you are walking out of here alive!"

Even the wealthy kids, who had been laughing just seconds earlier, suddenly appeared less enthusiastic about participating. Their faces lost color, making it clear that this wasn't the joke they had expected to be part of.

Thankfully, the butler, who'd clearly seen combat, immediately took charge, shouting orders and tossing masks and gloves like a drill sergeant.

"We need to shut down the canisters and neutralize the gas residue immediately," he said. "Then we clean his wounds, get the poison off him, and rush him to the hospital."

Jillian nodded, shaking, and finally stepped toward me.

But Austin arrived first. He crouched beside me with that fake concern on his face.

"Careful, Christian," he said. "We're on the rooftop, you know? Wouldn't want you to lose your balance and fall."

Then he leaned in closer, just far enough that no one else could hear.

"You filthy rat," Austin hissed. "Go to hell."

And the next second, he shoved me hard in the back.

In an instant, I was over the rooftop ledge, the wind roaring in my ears, feeling weightless.

Instinct kicked in. Midfall, I twisted and caught the ledge with both hands, hanging off the twentyeighth floor with legs swinging, blood dripping, wind trying to pull me away.

A scream ripped through the air.

"Christian!"

Jillian's voice.

She rushed to the edge, let out a shaky breath, then turned and faced Austin. "What the hell was that?! You almost killed him!"

Austin blinked fast, his eyes watering.

"II was just trying to help," he said, his voice shaking. "He was stumbling, and I thought he was gonna fall. I reached out, but he pushed me away…"

He didn't even try hard to sound convincing, just innocent enough to make her hesitate.

Jillian squinted at him, suspicious, but said nothing more. She dropped to her knees and grabbed my wrist, trying to keep me steady.

"Christian, don't panic. I've got you. We'll get you to a hospital, I swear."

But just as she started to pull, a cold, commanding voice cut through the rooftop noise.

"Don't pull him up."

Jillian froze. Her head snapped around.

"Dad? You're back in the country?"

Victor Schulz had returned, the big man himself, the one who ruled the Schulz family like a corporation, a kingdom, and a cult all at once.

Austin immediately scrambled over and clung to his arm like a scared little boy.

"Dad…"

Victor appeared unchanged, wearing a sharp suit, polished shoes, and a judgmental glare.

As usual, Austin was his favorite. Since Austin's mother passed away, Victor had been treating him like delicate porcelain.

Victor gave Austin a few comforting pats before turning that cold stare on Jillian.

"I've heard everything," he said, like he'd been gathering the facts for hours. "Since the day this nobody married into our family, he's done nothing but make life hell for Austin. Accusing him of murder? Really?"

Victor approached the ledge, eyeing me like a pest he wanted to crush.

"You're his sister, Jillian. And this is how you let your own brother suffer?"

Then he turned directly to me and curled his lip into a sneer.

"A worthless punk with no name, no background, no power—thinking he could bully my son? Christian, unless you apologize, admit everything, and get on your knees to kowtow a hundred times to Austin, don't even dream of being saved."

Jillian flinched. Her grip on my wrist wavered.

"But Dad… he was poisoned. He needs—"

"Needs what?" Victor cut in, voice sharp. "You think you can't be replaced? You think I haven't prepared other options? You're not my only child, Jillian. Don't forget that."

That landed like a punch.

Jillian's jaw clenched. We both knew he had other kids. Bastards spread across the country, maybe more than a few of them already groomed for power.

And Victor? He never cared about emotional ties.

Then Austin, right on cue, wiped at his eyes and whispered just loud enough for Jillian to hear.

"Jill, it's not like I don't want you to save him. But what if we let him off easy, and he turns around and hurts me again? Didn't you promise you'd always protect me?"

That sealed it.

Jillian's grip loosened, and she let go of my hand.

"Christian…you heard them. It's just an apology, so get down, say you were wrong, and it's over. Don't make this harder than it has to be," she said, her voice hoarse.

"If you admit to Austin that you were wrong, I'll pull you up and I'll believe you didn't cheat. I'll believe Bella was really mine. I'll forgive everything. We'll move forward together. We'll have more kids. Okay?"

Christian's POV

The toxins coursing through my body, combined with the strain of hanging from the rooftop, were draining what little strength I had left. But more than the looming threat of death, it was those two sentences from Jillian that cut the deepest.

At that moment, I realized the truth I'd been too blind to accept.

No matter what, I would always rank second in her heart, behind Austin, her ambitions, and her family name.

That hit harder than any blade ever could.

Completely wrecked, I forced out a raspy breath, my throat torn raw from the gas.

"Jillian, your trust is as rotten as you are. I don't want it. My only damn regret is not getting justice for my daughter. Even if I die right here, I'll go down haunting you and your murderer stepbrother to rot in hell and stay there."

Austin's eyes flicked, like he'd just had an idea.

"Jill, he still has a bit of strength left. That's all it is; he's just putting on a front. Let's wait until he's completely weak—that's when he'll give in. Besides, the longer we delay this, the more the toxins will affect him. We both know it's only a matter of time before it breaks him."

Jillian let out a sigh, almost like this whole mess was annoying her. She threw a glance my way like this was all my fault.

Then she turned to the butler and said, "His hands will probably get injured. Tell the med team to prep for bonesetting procedure."

And that's when it hit me what she meant by that.

Some of the wealthy kids picked up on her hint and moved forward, pulling out fruit knives with joyful little smirks, as if they were about to open a birthday gift.

One blade came down clean.

My index finger was gone.

Blood sprayed across the rooftop, thick and hot. I bit down on a scream so hard my teeth ached. My grip was slipping, and I could feel the edge getting closer.

Austin approached, bent down, picked up my severed finger, and then nonchalantly flicked it over the ledge with the tip of his shoe. Then, pretending to be shocked, he covered his mouth.

"Oops. Sorry, Christian," he said with a laugh. "Total accident. I heard there's a stray shelter down there. Poor mutts haven't eaten in days. Your finger's probably their dinner by now."

Jillian faltered for just a split second, her expression flickering. But one glance at her father, and she quickly regained her composure.

That cold mask snapped right back into place.

She walked up and tried to sound soft as she reassured me, "Christian, it's okay. I'll get you the best prosthetic money can buy. You just need to stop being so stubborn. All you have to do is apologize to Austin, and this ends right now."

Austin just chortled.

"Come on, Christian. It's just an apology. Why make Jillian suffer over your pride? You're running out of time, man. If you keep this up, you'll be feeding the hounds next."

Before I could say a word, another blade came down.

My middle finger was gone.

Blood pumped out in heavy pulses. Austin didn't hesitate. With another soft kick, it trailed the first finger into the darkness below.

My vision was blurring. My face had turned pale, and one of my hands, slick with sweat and blood, slipped entirely off the ledge.

I was close. One heartbeat away from falling.

Mercilessly, the crowd around us began to whisper. Some were laughing now, placing bets on how long I would last. A few of them had even pulled out their phones, already filming, eager to catch my last breath on camera.

Then, just as everything seemed lost, came the heavy roar of helicopter blades slicing through the night.

More than a dozen choppers appeared above, their spotlights flooding the rooftop in blinding white.

A woman in full camouflage gear stood on a rope ladder. With one swift move, she swept me into her arms and landed on the rooftop with practiced precision.

She landed on the rooftop hard and fast, her boots hitting the concrete with purpose.

Everything stopped.

Even the spoiled brats knew this wasn't a rescue they could laugh off.

She lifted her head and coldly stared at Austin. "You're the one who belongs to a cage."