The day my ex-wife, Chloe, rolled back into our dusty little hometown like conquering royalty, she had five years clean on her face and a five-year-old boy clutching her hand. Behind her, not one, but three armored trucks, supposedly stuffed with cash, idled on the main drag. Practically the whole town turned out, gawking. Everyone except anyone from my folks' place. Which, these days, was nobody. Chloe waved a dismissive hand, all designer sunglasses and sharp angles. Her assistant, some slick city type, started barking orders to guards who began handing out thick envelopes. "Listen up!" Chloe announced, her voice carrying over the murmur, loud enough for even the ghosts to hear. "Ten thousand dollars for every family! Except the Millers, of course." The assistant smirked, leaning in conspiratorially loud. "Bet somebody's kicking themselves right now, huh, Ms. Davis? Five years ago, you suddenly went blind, complications with the birth… and that animal took the money meant for your treatment and ran back here to marry someone else!" He gestured at the boy. "Now look. Little Liam's healthy as can be, and you inherited a fortune! What right does he even have to breathe the same air?" Yeah, that's the story they all knew. That I, Jake Miller, ditched Chloe when she needed me most, cleaned out our savings, and came home to shack up with someone new. Now she was back, loaded and powerful, ready to rub my nose in it. Chloe scoffed, a cold, ugly sound. "That money-grubbing trash? If he crawls back here on his hands and knees, maybe I'll toss him a scrap." Folks shuffled their feet, looking anywhere but at her. Finally, old Mrs. Henderson mumbled, "But, Chloe dear… Jake's gone. He died years ago. Coyotes got the… well, what was left." 1 Chloe’s head snapped towards the voice. Her eyes, the ones I… the ones she could see with now, narrowed behind the expensive shades. A harsh laugh escaped her lips. "Dead? He picked a convenient time, didn't he?" She scanned the crowd. "What, afraid I'd skin him alive? So you cook up this pathetic lie?" She flashed the massive diamond on her ring finger, twisting it. "My husband would be disgusted if he knew I was even talking about such lowlifes!" Watching her, that ten-ton weight I'd carried in my chest for five years finally started to crumble. The little boy, Liam, tugged at her sleeve, his face scrunched up. "Mommy, I don't like hearing that bad man's name." "Shh, baby, it's okay." Chloe's voice instantly softened for him, stroking his hair. But when she looked back at the crowd, her eyes were ice. "Dig him up! Find that worthless piece of trash! I want to see this 'dead' act for myself! Anyone tries to cover for him, they lose their payout!" Alex Turner, who grew up down the road from me, stepped forward, looking uneasy. "Chloe, it's true. If you don't believe us… just watch." He held out his phone, then looked away himself, like he couldn't bear to see it again. "I thought he was just… I don’t know, trying to piss you off back then. I never thought…" The video flickered to life, grainy and dark. It was five years ago, in the humid stink of some underground fight club. That was me on the makeshift canvas, curled up, taking a beating. My face was hamburger meat. The guys ringside had bet big on the other fighter. My job wasn't to win; it was just to not die too quickly while making it look good. So I protected my head and gut and just absorbed it. Felt like an hour, maybe more. Finally, the other guy won. His handlers swarmed him, cheering. They left me there like a sack of garbage, gasping for air. Everything hurt. Ribs cracked, probably bleeding inside. But a weak grin spread across my bloody lips. Pain meant I was still breathing. That was something. That's when Alex, the past Alex, swaggered onto the platform. Pure malice on his face. He planted a boot on my chest, grinding down. "Well, well, lookie here. If it ain't our town's famous deadbeat dad. Slumming it, Miller?" He sneered. "Trying to earn some scratch for the new wifey? Ten grand don't buy much these days, especially not someone as good and pretty as Chloe was." Pain kept me silent, just groans under his boot. He grabbed my shirtfront, spat near my face. "Never met scum like you, Miller! Chloe must've been blind long before she went blind to fall for a piece of crap like you!" He shoved me. "Remember digging through dumpsters? She didn't care! But when she's pregnant, scared, blind, you steal the goddamn money and run?" His voice rose. "You worthless bastard! You deserve worse than this! I oughta finish you right here for her!" He stomped on my hand, a sickening crunch echoed. Bone grating. Still couldn't speak. Just took it. The promoter, some greasy guy chewing a cigar, wandered over. He didn't look surprised, just amused. "Hey, payout time." He eyed my battered form. "The bosses weren't impressed. Said you looked like you were faking half of it. Gonna have to dock your pay. Half." "No! We agreed..." I tried to push myself up, desperate. He kicked me back down, hard. "Don't think I dunno your situation, pal," he growled. "Wife, kid, ICU, bills piling up. You ain't nobody. You're a punching bag. Be grateful I'm paying you at all. Open your mouth again, and maybe I make a call, make sure nobody in your family gets decent care. Savvy?" He threw a thin wad of bills onto my bloody face and strutted off. Just like that, half the money – the money Chloe and the baby needed – gone. What could I do? How could I save them now? Tears, hot and stinging, finally broke free. I hadn't cried through the beating, but this… this broke me. As I crawled, trying to gather the scattered, blood-stained dollars, Alex grabbed my hair and slammed my head against a metal support post. "Thieving scumbag! Taking her lifeline! Chloe shoulda cut your balls off and fed 'em to the dogs!" My vision swam. Just before I blacked out, a faint ringing. My phone. Shoving Alex off with the last of my strength, I fumbled in my beat-up gym bag nearby and pulled out a cheap burner phone. The screen glowed: County General Hospital. 2 "Mr. Miller? This is accounting. The ten thousand dollar deposit for Mrs. Davis's care is nearly depleted. You'll need to arrange further payment within 24 hours to continue services." The nurse's voice was flat, routine. It froze me to the core. I clutched the pathetic five grand in my fist, knuckles white. "Damn it!" I slammed my hand against the damp concrete wall. Months of getting my brains beat in, and it still wasn't enough. Not even close. A stale half-bagel tumbled out of my bag – tomorrow's breakfast, lunch, and dinner. I snatched it up, brushed off the grime. Time to go. But Alex caught up to me as I limped towards the exit. "Hold up. What was that call? About Chloe's bill?" His voice was different now, confused. "You didn't… run off with the money? You've been paying for her?" I didn’t want to explain. What difference did it make? Telling people wouldn't change anything. But Alex wouldn't let it go. He grabbed my arm, spun me around, pinned me against the railing. "Tell me what the hell is going on, Jake!" Pushed too far, something snapped. I threw his hand off, roaring, "It's exactly what you think! She's my wife! That's my kid she was carrying! She's sick! You think I'd just leave her?" "Then why...?" Alex trailed off, shaking his head. "Do you have any idea how much she hates you right now? How hurt she is?" "You don't understand!" I turned away, rain mixing with the blood dripping down my neck. "The doctors said… Chloe's eyes… only my corneas were a match…" Alex’s hand dropped from my arm. He stumbled back. "So… this whole act… running off, the new wife story… you did it all… so she'd hate you?" I didn't answer. Just walked out into the downpour. I figured I'd never see Alex again. But the next night, when they dragged me off the canvas, barely conscious, he was there. Pushed through the jeering crowd, lifted me like I weighed nothing, and took me back to his place. Cleaned me up, best he could. Shoved a wad of cash in my hand before I left. "Jake," he'd said gruffly, eyes red-rimmed, "we grew up together, man. You, me, Chloe. You're in trouble, I ain't gonna stand by." He tried to sound tough, but his voice trembled. "Take it. And don't you dare fucking die on me." For three months, Alex showed up. Watched me get pulverized. Bandaged me up afterwards. The worst time, I got thrown from a five-foot platform, landed wrong. Coughed up blood, ended up in the ER. Woke up to Alex pacing like a caged tiger. "You're insane, Jake! You keep this up, you're gonna kill yourself!" I managed a weak smile. "It's okay. No more fights." Chloe's due date was almost here. The day she went into labor, I was there, leaning on a crutch Alex had "borrowed" for me, pacing outside the delivery room. When that first tiny cry cut through the silence, I broke down, sobbing like a baby myself. Alex clapped me on the shoulder, grinning. "Alright! Go see 'em, man! Go see your family!" I shook my head. Pointed to another form I held – a surgical consent form. He read it. His face went slack, then white. "You're… giving Chloe… your eyes?" 3 "Not my eyes," I corrected softly. "Just the corneas." My voice was raspy. "She wasn't born blind. The doctors said transplants could work. Healthy corneas, she sees again." I took a shaky breath. "Couldn't do the surgery while she was pregnant. Had to wait till the baby was safe." I looked at Alex, trying to make him understand. "Black market corneas cost a fortune, maybe twenty grand each. I didn't have that kind of cash. Waiting for a legal donation… could take years. Maybe never." My gaze drifted towards the delivery room door. "I want her to see our kid grow up. So… I signed the donation papers. Voluntarily." "And that's why you never went to see her? All this time?" Alex finally got it. He ran a hand through his hair. "Jake, you're certifiably nuts!" "She's my wife, Alex," I whispered. "Besides me… who else in this world would love her this much? Enough to do this?" I managed a weak clap on his shoulder. "Don't worry. She didn't ditch me when I was dumpster diving for scraps back in the day. Being blind… it's just a thing. We'll figure it out. Even if we end up begging on street corners, long as we're together, the three of us… we'll be happy." … Coming out of surgery, the world went black. Permanently. Alex stuck by me, a lifeline in the darkness. He'd visit, tell me how Chloe and the baby were doing. Said she could see perfectly, that the baby was small but strong. Then, about a month later, he showed up, quiet. Too quiet. My gut clenched. "What is it? What's wrong? Is it Chloe? The baby?" "Chloe's getting married, Jake." Alex wouldn't meet my non-existent gaze. "Some rich guy, Tom Vance, just showed up out of nowhere. Proposed. She said yes. Just like that." He sounded choked with anger. Silence stretched. Then, finally, I found my voice. Calm. Too calm. "Someone willing to take care of them… That's good." My throat felt thick. "I'm useless like this. Can't drag them down." "Jake, snap out of it! Nobody's gonna love her like you do!" I shook my head, cutting him off. "Take me to see them, Alex. Just once. From a distance. Please." Outside her hospital room door, we heard him. Tom Vance. Voice smooth, concerned. "Don't you worry, Chloe. Liam's heart condition… we'll handle it after the wedding. Top specialists. We just need to find a suitable heart donor match…" My legs gave out. I slid down the wall, the world spinning, a roaring in my ears. Heart condition? My son? How? Alex hauled me up, pulling me away before they heard. Back in my own bleak room, the shock wouldn't fade. Alex did some digging. Found the baby's chart. Congenital heart defect. Severe. "It's fate, Jake. Just damn rotten luck," Alex muttered, helpless. But I knew what I had to do. A terrible certainty settled in my chest. Two weeks later, they were prepping me for another surgery. As they wheeled me towards the OR, Alex grabbed my arm, his face grim. "You sure about this, man? No regrets?" "He's my son, Alex," I said, my voice surprisingly steady. "Of course." "If Chloe ever finds out…" "She won't." I gripped his hand, pleading. "Promise me. Make sure she never knows. Let her hate me. It's better." A final thought surfaced. "One last thing… Can I hear her voice? Just one more time? Call her… please?" My life, twenty-six short years. Lost so much, gained so little. All I wanted now was the sound of her voice. "Yeah, okay, Jake. Okay." Alex fumbled with his phone, dialed. It connected. Then Chloe's voice, cold as steel. "Alex? Are you calling to plead Jake's case again?" The bitterness dripped from every word. "Let me tell you something. A man who abandons his blind wife and sick child deserves whatever hell finds him. I will never forgive him." "Wait, Chloe, you don't understand, he—" Alex started, desperate. "Unless he's dead, Alex," she cut him off sharply, "don't ever mention his name to me again!" Click. The line went dead. Alex cursed, furious. "Damn it! This is all wrong! I'm calling her back, explaining everything—" "No." I squeezed his hand. Forced a smile I couldn't see. "It's okay. Really. This way… it's better." I let go. The nurses pushed the gurney forward. If I couldn't protect her anymore, maybe her hating me was the next best thing. 4 And just like that, the truth was out. Spilled across the dusty ground of our hometown cemetery five years later. Silence hung heavy, broken only by the wind whistling through the pines. Then, Chloe started to laugh. A wild, broken sound. "Ridiculous! How could that possibly be true?"
? Continue the story here ?? ? Download the "MotoNovel" app ? search for "392161", and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel