Chapter 3: The Heroine Reveals Her Face

Just as the barrage predicted, Ethan was wheeled back by a doctor.

I asked, and got the same answer as the barrage.

Holding back tears, I thanked the doctor, helped Ethan into bed, and got water to clean him up.

At the same time, I checked him over.

His lips were split, and there were kiss marks on his neck. The so-called sweet heroine was apparently a wildcat—there were more marks on his chest, too.

Everything lined up.

At first, I tried to convince myself it was just a coincidence. That Ethan couldn't be lying. But now, every "coincidence" was confirmed.

At this point, what was left to fight for? My comatose husband, all for his so-called test, had faked a coma for two years, watching me quit my job, sell my inheritance, and fight for a cure for an illness that didn’t exist—even cheating with his mistress the whole time.

I should have noticed sooner. Like, how could someone bedridden for two years keep a perfect body?

Or, why hadn’t his handsome face grown thin?

Or, why did I always smell faint perfume in the room?

Or, those mysterious red marks…

The clues were everywhere. I was just too busy hoping for a miracle to see them.

Pathetically, I gave him everything. And he just lay there, watching me struggle. Calling it a test.

A test? I laughed—laughed until I cried, hating my own stupidity and Ethan’s coldness.

Some comments said I was actually pitiful, that I came to find Ethan without even treating my wounds, that I sold everything to save him, that I really loved him.

"Are some people so used to being doormats they can’t stand up? Bootlickers, get lost!"

"Exactly! The male lead has a billion-dollar fortune—what does her sacrifice matter? If she passed the test, the money would be hers. She just wasn’t good enough!"

"Can’t you see it’s fake? If you don’t need your eyes, donate them. She only looks good now, but once she finds out and goes after the heroine, you’ll see how nasty she is!"

Reading this, I could only feel a bitter laugh bubbling up. The meta-voyeurism made my skin crawl. Was I entertainment to them? I sold my grandparents’ house, quit my job, and cared for him for three years.

I thought we were just two people trying to get by, but I was just a punchline.

And some comments said I was fooled, but couldn’t have my own feelings?

Someone in the barrage asked the same thing, but was instantly shut down.

"What a joke! The side character didn’t do her job. Life’s a gamble—she lost and can’t handle it, so she blames the heroine. If she’s not nasty, who is?"

"Just because Ethan loves the heroine, she tries to run her over, but our heroine never did anything to her!"

"Why else? She can’t hurt the male lead, so she takes it out on the heroine!"

"Classic early-novel plot: jealous side character blames the heroine for her own failings. So gross!"

Jealousy?

Gross?

Can’t blame the heroine?

I forced myself to calm down.

Honestly, I didn’t know this so-called heroine, or what happened between her and Ethan.

Ethan lied to me for so long—he could lie to anyone.

Now, I had to find out who she was, and whether she knew Ethan was a liar and already married.

I didn’t make a scene. I dressed Ethan, packed my things, and got my wounds treated.

My injuries weren’t serious, just some scrapes that looked worse than they were. Cleaning up was enough.

The nurse who treated me knew me. She looked at my bruises, wanted to say something, but finally just said:

"Mrs. Miller, your health comes first. Take care of yourself."

Her voice was soft, but there was something in her eyes—sympathy, maybe, or just exhaustion. I was stunned. I looked up, but she’d already turned away.

Maybe because I now knew Ethan was pretending, even the nurse’s words felt like a warning.

I pushed the thought aside.

I leaned against the wall and left the ER.

Unexpectedly, I ran into a girl from my college in the elevator lobby. She looked surprised.

"Mrs. Miller? Didn’t you fly out to get a doctor for Ethan? Why are you here?"

I was surprised too.

Her name was Madison Lee. I met her just before graduation—she was bubbly and sweet, and when she heard I was marrying Ethan, she brought a huge cake to the wedding and said she wanted to be my best friend.

I grew up in a small town with my grandparents and didn’t have many friends. She wanted to be close, and I didn’t refuse.

After the wedding, when Ethan’s accident happened, she often came to visit and brought gifts.

I remembered her kindness and always treated her sincerely.

I just didn’t expect to see her now.

"It’s late, why are you still at the hospital? Are you okay?"

I didn’t answer, but asked her instead. She hesitated, then smiled awkwardly: "I twisted my ankle on the stairs, just came to get it checked. By the way, Mrs. Miller, you told me you were going abroad today, so why are you still here? And your..."