Chapter 3
Diego's hand hovered mid-air for a moment before it came crashing down on Carly's face, a sickening slap that sent a fresh wave of blood staining the bandages wrapped around her head.
"Let this be your last warning—don't push me."
His voice was ice-cold, his eyes gleaming with cruelty as he laughed darkly.
"Let me be clear. The person I've always loved is Carly. You? You were nothing more than a stepping stone to build my business. Carly is a million times better than you!"
Carly tried to struggle again, weakly attempting to make him realize she wasn't me.
She wanted him to recognize her and save her, but Diego didn't see it.
No matter what she did, he just stared, indifferent.
There was concern or love in his eyes.
Desperation flickered in Carly's eyes as she pointed frantically to her belly.
She thought that by reminding him she was pregnant, he might soften and protect her well.
But Diego's rage only grew darker. His expression twisted with fury as if the very sight of her disgusted him.
"Using a baby to win me over, Ellie? You think I don't know your tricks? You're trying to use some bastard to distract me from Carly?" His voice dropped to a snarl. "You're so vile!"
Then, with brutal force, he slammed his fist into Carly's stomach.
Her body, already fragile and broken, convulsed from the blow.
The room echoed with her strangled scream as blood gushed from between her legs, soaking the sheets.
Carly's baby was gone.
I instinctively placed a hand over my own abdomen, a wave of nausea rolling through me.
Diego destroyed her without hesitation or regret, only because he thought she was me.
The only person he had ever shown such monstrous cruelty toward... was me.
Carly, now robbed of her last hope, lay motionless on the bed. The fight had drained from her body, her eyes dull and lifeless.
Diego stood over her, his gaze cold and detached as if she were already dead.
I wondered if he would still look so calm once he realized the truth—that the woman he'd just condemned was the one he claimed to love, along with the child he'd unknowingly killed.
I was so focused on watching the scene unfold that I didn't notice someone approaching until it was too late.
Suddenly, I was shoved from behind. A sharp jolt brought me back to reality.
"Watch where you're going!" Barbara's voice rang out, shrill and impatient.
I glanced up, locking eyes with her for a split second, my heart stopping in my chest.
I didn't dare speak.
I didn't even breathe, terrified that if I opened my mouth, she'd recognize my voice.
Barbara stared at me for an agonizingly long moment, her eyes narrowing suspiciously as I felt sweat prickling my palms.
"Dumb mute," she muttered before turning to head into the ICU.
I exhaled silently, relief washing over me.
"Ellie must be nearly dead by now!" Barbara's voice was filled with glee as she entered the room. "I've lined up a bunch of influencers to livestream the whole thing. Once she's gone, make sure you cry on camera. We'll squeeze the travel agency for as much compensation as we can while we still can!"
Even in "death," they were ready to milk me for every last drop.
Diego's voice was low, clearly uninterested in the theatrics. "How much are we talking about?"
"Three million, at least!" Barbara boasted, her tone proud. "And after that, we'll keep up the livestreams. Five, maybe six million is easily within reach!"
Diego's eyes brightened at the number.
Five million was a significant sum to him.
But I knew better—I had won fifty million in the lottery.
As the influencers Barbara had invited arrived, the hospital filled with their noisy chatter.
They set up their livestreams, cameras focused shamelessly on Carly's broken body, playing up her tragic state for sympathy and attention.
One of the influencers had brought the travel agency's representative along, and he looked pale and desperate.
"We can't confirm yet whether this was an accident," he stammered. "We can't agree to pay the full amount right away. Three million is too much—"
"But your negligence cost my wife her life!"
Diego's voice cracked, tears welling in his eyes as he spoke, his whole body trembling with emotion.
"I'll never see her again. How do you plan to compensate me for that?"
I had to admire his performance.
The same man who'd been praying for my death was now weeping for the cameras, playing the part of a devastated husband to perfection.
The livestream viewers were hooked. Comment after comment poured in, all demanding justice, insisting the agency pay the full three million.
The influencers egged them on, zooming in on Carly's pitiful condition, begging for donations, and playing up the tragedy for more views.
I silently thanked whatever fate had spared me from being the one lying in that hospital bed.
As the livestream progressed, Diego was painted as the "ultimate husband"—a man devoted to his wife until the very end.
With his handsome features and tear-streaked face, the number of viewers skyrocketed.
The travel agency's representative, cornered by public outrage, finally caved.
"Fine... we'll pay the three million."
But the more I watched, the more disgust churned in my stomach.
I needed to leave. I needed to gather all the evidence I had and expose Diego for the monster he was.
Just as I turned to slip away, Barbara suddenly appeared, rushing toward me.
She grabbed at my mask, yanking it down with a vicious sneer.
"You little bitch! Don't think I don't know who you are!"