My Cheating Husband Begged Me to Stay, But I Chose My Father's Badge

After spending four years escaping a human trafficking ring, I returned only to witness my fiancé, Justin, celebrating his fourth anniversary with my best friend, Chloe.

He sneered at me: "Who would marry damaged goods? You got yourself kidnapped because you were loose.

How do you have the face to ask me why?" Amidst the mocking laughter, Julian Vance, a wealthy heir, smashed Justin's face with an ashtray.

He pulled me away, bought a ring on the spot, and married me. He promised he would love me forever. He worked day and night to hunt down the human traffickers.

Until my father died in the line of duty during an arrest. Terrified of losing Julian too, I never mentioned that dark past again.

But then, I accidentally overheard a conversation between Justin and Julian. "Chloe is doing great. Her mother escaped abroad, so you don't have to worry." "That's good.

Now that Clara's father is dead, I can't get any internal police files. I was worried we wouldn't be able to keep her mother safe." They sighed in relief. I froze.

The coldness seeped into my bones, and I cried until I almost passed out. When my tears ran dry, I decided to inherit my father's badge.

I went home and prepared dinner just like any other night. "If Clara joins the police force, she'll find out what we did sooner or later.

Are you sure you won't get softhearted?" Justin raised his glass. Julian sneered, putting out his cigarette in his drink. "We've been married for six years, after all.

I just hope she breaks her leg tonight and stops making a fuss..." "Don't worry.

For Chloe's sake, I'll personally send her on her final journey." My phone slipped from my hands, clattering onto the floor.

The screen flashed with a notification: Congratulations! You have passed the written exam for the police department. But the joy of receiving the text was gone.

Crying, I rushed into the elevator and collapsed against the wall. It was all a lie. Fighting Justin for me was a lie. Pretending he had loved me for years was a lie.

We had lived as husband and wife for six years. Yet, the man sleeping next to me—the one I loved with all my heart—was the one who helped kill my father.

I walked aimlessly in the pouring rain. By the time I got home, I had a burning fever.

When I woke up, Julian was sitting by my bed, holding a bowl of warm ginger tea at the perfect temperature. "Why didn't you pick up?

I waited for you outside your office for so long." "I washed your wet clothes. Get up and eat something to warm up. I made some chicken soup.

Want me to add some gourmet ingredients?" He wrapped a heated blanket around me, kissing me gently and tenderly. "Stay back. I don't want to get you sick," I said.

I shrank away from his affection, but Julian caught my chin, tilting my face up. "I don't care if I get sick.

If I'm sick, you won't have to suffer alone." He held my burning body tight.

For a second, it felt like a drowning person grasping at a lifeline, reminding me of his proposal six years ago. Back then, I asked him if he minded my scarred, broken body.

He had solemnly put the ring on my finger and whispered an intense, passionate "I love you." "Let's eat first." I sat up, but a sudden wave of nausea hit me.

I rushed to the bathroom and threw up until my stomach was completely empty. Julian looked at me with deep concern, pressing a hand to my forehead.

His phone kept vibrating in his pocket. He shoved it deeper and said, "Get dressed.

I'm taking you to the hospital." The employees knew he never replied to messages after work hours. No one would dare bother him unless it was urgent. "No need.

I just need to rest after dinner." Remembering his words—I hope she breaks her leg—I took two steps back in fear.

But he grabbed my hand. "Your physical fitness test is in two days. How can you ignore your health? Don't you want to inherit your father's badge?" The rain was pouring outside.

When Julian opened the door, the draft from the hallway made my eyes sting. He knew everything.

Yet, he was still determined to push me off the cliff. "Julian." Ignoring his slight panic and annoyance, I went to the fridge and pulled out a cake. "Did you forget?

Today is your birthday." When I accidentally overheard his conversation with Justin, I had been holding the birthday surprise I bought for him. "Who cares about birthdays at our age...

Only you would remember." "No need to blow out the candles. Sweetheart, if we don't go to the hospital right now, none of my wishes will come true." My final test of him failed.

Julian pressed the elevator button and forced me downstairs. A black car suddenly sped toward us. In a flash, Julian shoved me hard onto the concrete.

The agonizing pain knocked me out instantly. When I woke up, the faint siren of an ambulance echoed in the distance.

Julian and the driver were standing next to me. "Are you sure we should inflict a secondary injury? If we twist it wrong, Clara might end up disabled.

She might never walk again." The driver who hit me sounded hesitant. But Julian was cold and resolute. "We can't let her join the police department." "Do it.

I don't care if she's crippled. I'll take care of her for the rest of her life." To keep Chloe safe, he was willing to go this far.

The driver stomped hard on my weak, helpless ankle. Every blow felt like a steel rod driving straight into my bone marrow. I tilted my head, looking through blurred eyes at Julian.

He pulled out his lighter.

After watching the driver take the first stomp, he trembled and turned his back to me. "Sigh." I couldn't tell if that soft whisper was from before I passed out or after I woke up.

When I opened my eyes again, Julian was leaning over my hospital bed, his brow furrowed with worry. "...Julian?" My voice was barely a whisper, but he bolted upright. "Clara?

Clara, you're awake! Does it still hurt? Nurse! Doctor! Someone come check on her!" He stood up in a panic. Hearing me cough, he quickly poured a glass of water: "How is your leg?

Do you need painkillers? I rented a penthouse suite at a nearby hotel. If you feel uncomfortable, we can move there anytime." "It doesn't hurt much anymore. Just my head.

Can you get me some extra pillows and blankets?" Julian nodded frantically and rushed out, nearly colliding with a nurse.

The two young nurses on duty saw how distraught he was and started whispering. "When Mrs. Vance got into the accident, Mr. Vance couldn't stop crying.

He hired a private chef and a personal maid on the spot." "Mr. Vance used to be a famous eccentric in the art world. He only painted landscapes, never people.

But after he met his wife, he painted nearly two hundred landscape portraits featuring her in a single year." "Love at first sight, devotion for a lifetime. Mrs. Vance is so lucky."

"Careful, lie down slowly. The doctor is a bit busy right now. Should I buy you some flowers to cheer you up?" "No need." I stared blankly out the window.

Remembering the nurses' gossip, I added, "They say disabled people age faster than normal. Julian, will you paint a portrait of me?" "You're so sick.

How could I have the heart to paint right now?" Julian frowned, popping a sweet mandarin slice into my mouth.

He promised that once I was discharged, he would rent out an entire plum blossom garden just for me to walk around. He made endless promises, but he completely ignored my request.

Julian had never painted me. He always claimed he had no inspiration or no time. Yet, in his free time, he would lock himself in the attic and stare at his paintings for hours.

His only art sketchbook with a human figure featured a girl in a white and green dress. Those weren't even his usual colors.

But they perfectly matched what Chloe was wearing on the day I was kidnapped. My breathing suddenly grew shallow. I coughed violently, clawing at the sheets.

The pain in my legs flared up, feeling as if they were being ripped apart all over again. Terrified, Julian slammed the call button.

After the doctor assured him it was nothing serious, Julian got so angry that he checked me out of the hospital that very day. "You're in so much pain, yet that idiot doctor kept saying you're fine!

If you're fine, why did your stitches tear? They're just a bunch of useless quacks!" He brought me to the hotel penthouse, promising that a specialist would come check on me soon.

Then, he left and never came back. Thirsty and exhausted, I dragged my broken leg across the floor to grab my phone, only for the door to suddenly fly open. It was Chloe.

Her belly was slightly showing. She looked surprised to see me. "Julian actually brought you here?" "Well, makes sense.

Since your leg is broken, he had to find a place close to the hospital to take care of you." Chloe walked straight into the bedroom.

She grabbed the electric kettle, filled it up, and calmly tossed a tea bag into a cup. "Justin is such a straightlaced guy.

Ever since I got pregnant, he hasn't wanted to touch me." "Luckily, Julian's wife is you. He can barely keep his hands to himself.

Every time I go to the hospital for my prenatal checkups, he meets me here to relieve his tension.

Right on this bed you're lying on." Chloe sat on my pillow with a smug smile, sliding the teacup toward me like she was the actual mistress of the house.

I collapsed on the floor, unable to move.

My hospital gown looked pathetic compared to her expensive silk robe. "Is that so?" I propped myself up against the nightstand and sneered. "But he gave this penthouse to me.

Looks like Julian is getting tired of raising another man's kid." A shadow crossed Chloe's face.

She narrowed her eyes, dramatically holding her stomach and whining, "This sixmonthold baby is so active. It's kicking me so hard.

Clara, did it hurt this bad when you were pregnant?" "Oh, I forgot." She smirked and leaned in. "Your baby died before the threemonth mark.

Julian told me he personally slipped the abortion drug into your food." "A mother with a dirty womb will only give birth to a monster anyway.

You can't blame him for being a ruthless father, right?" In an instant, the pain in my leg vanished. My baby... Julian was the one who killed my baby?

Looking at the cruel amusement in Chloe's eyes, I suddenly remembered.

Before I drank that cup of herbal tea to "prevent miscarriage," I had told Julian about my father's topsecret raid operation. It wasn't just because he hated the baby.

Julian killed my child to distract my father, ensuring Chloe and her mother could get away safely. The agonizing memory of miscarrying alone in the dark rushed back.

With a primal scream, I lunged at Chloe, pinning her down.

I wanted to strangle her to death on that filthy bed. "Clara, what the hell are you doing?!" I squeezed her neck with all my remaining strength.

But a second before I could finish it, Julian burst in and slammed me onto the floor. My unhealed wounds tore open instantly. Crimson blood soaked through my pants.

But Julian didn't even look at me. He scooped Chloe up, preparing to rush her to the hospital. "Julian, I'm fine. Go check on Clara.

Her leg—" "Shut up!" Chloe was barely startled, but Julian acted as if he was about to lose her forever, squeezing her tightly against his chest. "Do you have any idea how fragile pregnant women are?

Why can't you take care of yourself?" "I already lost you once, Chloe. I can't lose you again." Julian's voice faded down the hall.

In the massive penthouse, I was left alone, writhing in pain on the floor. So he knew how anxious and terrified pregnant women could be.

Then why didn't he care when I was losing my baby?

I ripped the platinum bracelet off my wrist—the one meant to keep me "safe." I dragged myself to the nightstand, dug through Chloe's purse, and pulled out her unlocked phone. "I met the guy Lee mentioned.

He wants a fouryearold child. Boy or girl doesn't matter, but the birthday must be May 8th." "Don't ask why.

If we pull this off, we get fifty million." "Clara said the police department assumes you're dead. It's safe here.

You can come back." After hitting send, I wiped all trace of the message and dialed my father's old colleague.

Worried about Chloe's health, Julian gathered all the top specialists in the hospital, demanding they save her baby at all costs.

When Captain Evans came to take me away, the hotel reception called Julian's phone repeatedly. Julian never picked up.

It wasn't until I was in the police cruiser that his messages finally started flooding in: "Chloe's body isn't suited for pregnancy.

Do you know how much she's suffered to keep this baby?" "You were a mother once.

How could you be so cruel to her?" Then, realizing I wasn't replying, his defensive excuses came: "I didn't mean to leave you there alone." "It's just that Chloe has always had a grudge against you.

I was afraid she would blame you if something happened to the baby." "Clara, please be good. Once you're better, I'll buy you an art gallery. We can adopt a cat too.

Didn't you always want a cat?" He sent these messages while carrying shopping bags, completely unaware that I was already at the precinct. "Justin's mom always compares me to Clara.

She says Clara is so sensible and obedient, and I can't compare to her at all." Chloe sobbed as she picked up a small kitten. "I can't have a cat, I can't have my freedom, and even when I try to be intimate with Justin, she throws shade at me." "Julian, please spend more time with me.

Justin is always so busy. If this keeps up, I'm going to lose my mind." Her tears flowed beautifully. The kitten in her arms mewed softly.

Unable to control his feelings, Julian pulled her into a tight embrace in a quiet corner of the hallway. "Come work at my company.

I'll make you my executive assistant and give you half the shares." "I'll take care of you. No one will ever hurt you again.

Not Justin, and definitely not Clara." He took off his scarf and cut off a strip of fabric.

He tied the keys to the art gallery—the one he promised me—to the fabric strip, placing them and the kitten into Chloe's hands.

He knew she hated the sound of clinking metal, so he carefully avoided using a metal ring.

Yet, he completely forgot that this very scarf was handmade by me, knitted stitch by stitch out of premium cashmere because I was worried he would catch a cold. "Once you decide to join this operation, you might spend the rest of your life fighting human traffickers.

Clara, do you have any regrets?" In the distance, Julian packed Chloe's kitten into a carrier, then carelessly threw a stray tabby kitten he found into a plastic bag.

Clearly, he had remembered his promise to me and decided to pass off a cheap stray as a thoughtful gift.

I let out a selfdeprecating laugh and nodded at Captain Evans. "I have no regrets, Captain. Wipe my records. Declare me dead." The cruiser drove away from the commercial district.

Julian stared at the police car passing by. Remembering how Clara used to get excited whenever she saw a police car, a sudden pang of loneliness hit him.

But looking back at Chloe's pitiful face, he used work as an excuse and didn't check on Clara for two days.

On the third day, the hotel reception finally got through to him. "How is Clara? If she's throwing a tantrum, let her break whatever she wants.

I'll pay for the damages." There was static on the line, followed by Justin's explosive voice: "Julian, are you out of your mind?!" "Do you have any idea what Clara did?!" "She used Chloe's phone to contact Chloe's mother.

She lured those international traffickers to the hotel, locked the doors, and set the whole place on fire!" "The police and firefighters are already here!

Julian, you—" The call cut off. Julian couldn't remember how many red lights he ran. By the time he reached the hotel, the fire had been put out.

Billowing black smoke filled the sky, amidst the chaos of sirens and screaming crowds. "Where is Clara? I told you guys to take care of her!

Where is she?!" The receptionist, covered in soot, could only shake his head in terror under Julian's furious glare. "I don't know... The room caught fire so fast. And Mrs.

Vance's leg was broken, so she probably..." Julian punched him, knocking his glasses right off his face. "Clara!

Clara!" Julian tried to charge into the burning building like a madman, struggling against the officers holding him back. The wind blew ash and embers onto his face.

As he winced, he caught sight of something blue. The scarf I had knitted for him lay unraveled on the ground.

It had fallen out of his bag when he tried to shield his face, and Chloe, standing behind him, had just stepped on it, ripping the yarn apart. "Julian..." "Get off me!" Julian shoved Chloe away when she tried to comfort him.

He fell to his knees, desperately trying to gather the ruined scarf. Justin held Chloe back, finally losing his temper and kicking Julian hard. "What the hell is wrong with you?

It's just a ruined scarf!" "Chloe's mother is missing, and she's pregnant! Do you have any idea what's actually important right now?!" There were too many people around.

The unraveled scarf was quickly trampled into the dirt, ruined beyond repair. Julian suddenly remembered the winters with Clara.

She would wake up early to brew herbal teas for him, reminding him not to sit for too long, and drag him out for morning jogs. She was just as tough as her father.

Even after escaping the traffickers, she had worked so hard to live a bright, beautiful life. Her smile was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

He still remembered the day he proposed. That single smile of hers was more breathtaking than any landscape he had ever painted. "I don't believe it. She's not dead.

She's just angry with me. I'm going to find her."