My Legs For Her Perfect Life

Five years.

When they finally pulled me out of that nightmarish compound deep in the Montana backcountry, the welcome I received wasn't the warm, tearful embrace I had hallucinated during all those endless, agonizing nights.

Instead, Bennettmy older brother, the untouchable Seattle tech billionaire who raised mesat across from me in a sterile, modern living room and calmly explained that he had funded my kidnapping.

Declan, my husband, the man whose eyes used to soften only for me, stood by the fireplace. With a casual flick of his wrist, he admitted that he was the one who arranged the men who took me. He had even been parked in an alley down the street, watching as I was dragged, kicking and screaming, into the back of an unmarked van.

They told me the original plan was just to leave me in the wilderness for three years. A time-out. A lesson. But it was Judethe street kid I had brought home and practically raised as my own brotherwho insisted they leave me there for two more. Jude had been worried I hadn't "learned my place" yet. He was terrified I might come back and be mean to Camilla.

For five years, I rotted in that rural hell. Every night was a symphony of unimaginable degradation.

My belly swelled with a forced pregnancy six different times. Six times, through violence or malnutrition, it flattened again. I tried to die more times than I could count, but the universe wouldn't grant me the mercy. I tried to run, clawing through the dirt and snow, until they shattered both my legs with a steel pipe, leaving me with cheap, agonizingly stiff prosthetics that ground my stumps into bloody pulp.

I had fought like a dying animal just to survive, purely on the hope of seeing my family again. I thought they were my salvation. I never dreamed they were the architects of my descent into hell.

The blood in my veins felt like freezing sludge. I couldn't stop shaking. "Why?" I rasped, my vocal cords permanently damaged from years of screaming. "Why would you destroy me like this?"

Bennett and Jude exchanged a look, suddenly unable to meet my eyes. It was Declan who broke the silence.

He stepped forward, his perfectly tailored suit a stark contrast to my filthy, oversized clothes. He told me it was because I had abused their love. Because I had bullied Camilla. They just wanted me to "grow up a little."

Then, without missing a beat, he added that Camilla was pregnant with his child. If I couldn't accept that, he said smoothly, we could arrange a quiet divorce.

A thick, metallic taste of blood rose in the back of my throat. And right in that moment, a crystalline, mechanical voice chimed in my minda sound I hadn't heard in years.

[Host, do you wish to abandon the redemption arc of these three antagonists and detach from this world?]

...

The Voice. The Guide I had made a pact with so many years ago. Its sudden return sent a dizzying wave of vertigo crashing through me.

I stared at Declans deadpan, aristocratic face, then shifted my gaze to Bennett and Jude, who were softly instructing a housekeeper to prepare a delicate broth for Camilla.

A phantom knife twisted in my chest.

Five years ago, they called me in a panic, claiming they had been in a horrible car crash on the way to my birthday dinner. My heart had nearly seized in my chest. I had rushed out in the rain, taking a shortcut through the alley to get to them faster.

That was where the van was waiting. That was where my life ended.

I had held onto the fairy tale of their rescue for so long. Now, they were telling me my crucifixion was just a favor to Camilla.

Leave, I answered The Voice in my mind.

[Understood. Eight-hour countdown initiated. Due to the sudden departure, the Host must ensure all three antagonists are present at the moment of detachment.]

I let out a sound that was half-sob, half-laugh. Declan walked over, raising a thumb to wipe a tear from my hollow cheek. His voice took on that soft, coaxing tone I used to melt for.

"Josie, you don't have to divorce me if you don't want to," he murmured. "It's just that Camilla is delicate. We've spent years protecting her. You can't put your hands on her anymore. Since your body is... ruined, and you can't have kids, Camilla graciously offered to let us put her baby under your name."

I used to have Declans baby inside me.

I was seven months along. Camilla had smiled, leaned in, and shoved me backward down a sweeping marble staircase. I lost the baby. When I woke up from the surgery, half out of my mind with grief, I hunted Camilla down. I managed to slap her across the face exactly once before Declan tackled me. He locked me in our bedroom for a month. Once my postpartum bleeding stopped, the van came for me.

My throat felt tight, lined with shattered glass. "Because I slapped Camilla once. Because of one slap, you did this to me?"

"Yes," Declan said, his face hardening, completely unashamed. "You were careless. You lost our child, and then you had the audacity to blame Camilla. You acted like a hysterical animal, not my wife. As long as you behave from now on, I promise I won't send you away again."

My face felt numb. The tears on my cheeks turned ice-cold. "If you went through the trouble of lying to me about the car crash," I whispered, "why tell me the truth now?"

Bennett let out a long, disappointed sigh. Jude looked at me with cold righteousness.

"Because at the end of the day, you and Camilla are sisters," Jude said evenly. "We needed you to remember this lesson. So that moving forward, you'll protect her, just like we do."

Protect her?

Something inside me finally snapped. I grabbed the heavy porcelain teapot from the coffee table and hurled it at the hardwood floor. It shattered with a violent, satisfying crash.

I shoved the sleeves of my oversized sweater up to my shoulders, exposing the horrific tapestry of cigarette burns, knife marks, and jagged scars that covered my arms. I screamed, my voice breaking into a ragged sob. "I was tortured day and night by the monsters you paid! They took my babies! They took my legs!"

"Enough!" Declan barked, his lip curling in sheer disgust. "The makeup is very realistic, Josie, I'll give you that. But clearly, you haven't learned a damn thing."

Bennett and Jude looked at me like I was a piece of trash that had blown onto their pristine lawn.

Declan grabbed me roughly by the wounded arm, dragging my frail body across the hall, and shoved me into a dark utility closet.

"When Camilla gets back, if you still don't know how to kneel and apologize, I will drive you back to Montana myself," he spat.

The door slammed shut. The lock clicked.

The dark, enclosed space triggered an immediate, suffocating flashback. The phantom weight of a rusty iron chain wrapped around my neck. The smell of stale beer and sweat. I slammed my fists against the door, my voice entirely gone, reduced to a pathetic, guttural wheeze.

"I'll sign the papers! I want a divorce! Please, don't send me back to the dark!"

I don't know how long I pounded on the wood. I didn't stop until the old scabs on my palms tore open, smearing blood on the white paint. Finally, the door swung open.

I collapsed forward. My hair was matted to my face, my eyes swollen to slits.

Bennett looked down at me. For a fraction of a second, something like panic flickered in his eyes, but he quickly forced it away, replacing it with a mask of weary contempt.

"You've been back for two hours and you're already throwing a tantrum. Can you just be normal for five minutes?"

He shoved my shoulder. At barely eighty pounds, with a center of gravity thrown off by my cheap prosthetics, I crashed hard into the doorframe.

Bennett froze, his hand hovering in the air. Then he scoffed, his lips pulling into a cruel smirk. "Still playing the victim? Think that's going to make me carry you out of here?"

Even after seeing the monster he had become, my heart still gave a pathetic little flutter of agony.

The old Bennett would never have spoken to me like this.

When my soul was first dropped into this universe, I was born as his little sister. Our mother died in childbirth. Bennett raised me single-handedly. He used to lay the world at my feet.

When The Guide first told me my mission was to redeem three potential "villains" to keep this universe from collapsing, I poured every ounce of my love into them. I loved Declan until his cold heart melted. I found Jude shivering in an alleyway and brought him home. Bennett never scolded me for bringing them into our lives; he explicitly told them that I was the center of their universe, and they had to protect me.

All of Seattle knew you could cross Bennett Mercer, but if you made Josie cry, you were a dead man walking.

In my original life, I was a foster kid. I had never been loved. So, once my mission was officially marked complete and their dark fates were averted, I made the choice to stay in this world. I chose them.

Then Bennett brought home our late father's illegitimate daughter. Camilla.

He had held me tight and sworn, "Josie, Dad is gone. She's technically blood, so we can't let her starve. I promise you, she gets a roof and food, but that's it. You are my only sister."

I didn't like it, but I accepted it.

But Camilla wasn't satisfied with a roof. I became the obstacle she needed to obliterate.

When Bennett was walking down the stairs, she intentionally poured a bowl of scalding soup over her own chest, then dropped to her knees. "Bennett, help! Josie is trying to burn my face!"

When Declan had a fever of 104, I stayed awake for 36 hours pressing cold towels to his skin. The second his eyelids fluttered open, Camilla shoved me out of the way and threw herself over his chest, weeping. "Declan, you're awake! I've been sitting up all night praying for you!"

When Jude's startup was on the verge of bankruptcy, I secretly liquidated my trust fund to save him. Camilla intercepted him in the hallway, slapping her own cheek until it bruised, tears pooling in her eyes. "Don't worry, I won't tell Jude I was the one who funded him. I'll let you take the credit, Josie."

Lie by lie, frame by frame, they began to look at me with exhaustion and disappointment. And they looked at Camilla like she was a fragile glass saint.

Even on my wedding day, Declan looked at me with an undercurrent of resentment. I begged, I cried, I tried to show them the truth, but it only earned me Declan's icy ultimatum: "If you're so miserable, Josie, we can just get a divorce."

I had just found out I was two months pregnant. I wanted my baby to have a father. So, I swallowed my pride.

Until she killed my baby. And I slapped her. And they sent me to hell.

The glowing holographic countdown in my peripheral vision pulled me out of the memory.

Six hours left.

I grabbed the doorframe, swaying as I forced myself to stand. I met Bennetts mocking gaze with dead, hollow eyes.

"I'm not playing the victim," I said, my voice eerily calm. "You hate me. I get it. Print the divorce papers. Print a legal severance of our sibling relationship. I'll sign them both."

Before I detached from this universe, I wanted every tie severed. I was too tired to scream anymore. There was no point.

The moment the words left my mouth, heavy footsteps echoed in the hall. Declan appeared, his jaw clenched so hard a muscle jumped in his cheek. Camilla stood pressed against his side, her eyes rimmed with theatrical red.

"Is my sister so furious that I'm carrying your baby that she's taking it out on Bennett now?" Camilla whimpered, stepping forward and grabbing my arm.

"Josie, please," she sniffled loudly. "Declan and I... it was an accident. But the baby will be yours! We'll give it to you to raise! Please don't be angry, and please don't abandon Bennett. He needs you!"

Her voice was syrup-sweet, but her eyes danced with vicious triumph. As her fingers wrapped around my forearm, she found the deepest, most jagged scar under my sleeve and dug her acrylic nails directly into the damaged nerve.

A blinding flash of white-hot agony shot through my skull. Purely on instinct, I violently jerked my arm back to get away from her.

"Ah!" Camilla shrieked. She threw her arms up and tumbled backward into Declan's chest, looking up at him with wide, terrified eyes. "Josie... why would you push me?"

A split second later, the back of Declan's hand connected with my cheek.

The crack echoed in the hallway. The left side of my face went entirely numb. The metallic taste of blood flooded my mouth.

Bennett stepped forward, his face twisted in grief and fury. "You know she's pregnant, and you push her? You're even more venomous than you were five years ago."

Declan glared at me, his eyes devoid of anything resembling a soul. "You want the divorce papers? Fine. You'll get them. But first, you are going to attend Camilla's design gala downstairs. You will stand in front of everyone, and you will publicly admit that she is a far superior jewelry designer than you ever were."

A sharp, grinding pain shot up from where my amputated legs met the hard plastic of the prosthetics.

I opened my mouth to refuse, but Jude marched down the hall, two maids trailing behind him. "What are you waiting for?" he snapped at them. "Take my sister upstairs and dress her. Now."

I had no strength to fight. The maids practically dragged me up the stairs. The moment we were in the bathroom, they shoved me hard against the vanity and slammed the door behind them, not even bothering to help.

I gripped the edge of the marble sink, looking into the mirror. The skeletal, hollow-eyed ghost looking back at me made my chest ache.

There was a time when I lost two pounds from a stomach bug, and all three of those men had panicked, hiring a private chef to nurse me back to health. Now, I was quite literally starving to death, my bones pushing against my translucent skin, and they didn't even notice. All they saw was Camilla.

The maids came back in, taking one look at the network of scars on my chest with unabashed disgust. They threw a high-necked, long-sleeved evening gown at me. It was three sizes too big.

I dragged my heavy, grinding legs down the sweeping staircase.

In the grand foyer below, Camilla looked like a modern princess in a glittering, custom gown, clinging to Declan's arm. Bennett and Jude flanked her, looking at her with overwhelming pride.

As I hit the landing, the chatter of Seattle's elite died. All eyes turned to me. Disgust rippled through the crowd.

"Is that Josie Mercer? The jewelry prodigy? God, she looks like a corpse."

"Look at her neckare those track marks or bruises?"

"I heard she ran off with some cartel guys and caught some horrific disease."

The whispers were intentionally loud. The guests physically backed away from the staircase, terrified my proximity might infect them.

Every step sent shockwaves of agony through my hips. The three men I once loved watched my painful descent with unmistakable irritation.

When I finally reached the bottom, Camilla rushed forward, grabbing both my hands. "Josie! I'm so glad you came to celebrate me!"

I just wanted to pull my hands back. As I tugged away, Camillas fist suddenly locked onto the high collar of my dress. With a violent, hidden yank, she ripped the fabric down to my breastbone.

The horrific, mutilated landscape of my chest and shoulders was instantly exposed to the glittering ballroom.

I gasped, crossing my arms over my chest to hide the scars. In the same motion, Camilla let out a theatrical scream and threw herself backward, crashing directly into a towering champagne pyramid.

Glass shattered. Champagne rained down like a waterfall.

"Camilla!"

All three men abandoned their drinks and sprinted to her side, sliding in the alcohol.

Camilla sat in the wreckage, sobbing, clutching Declan's lapel. "Declan, it hurts! My stomach! Why... why does Josie hate my baby so much?"

Bennett dropped to his knees, pulling Camilla into his arms. Declan stood up. He closed the distance between us in two strides and wrapped his large hand around my throat, lifting me onto my tiptoes.

"You do this in front of the whole city?" he snarled, his eyes burning with a murderous rage. "You really haven't learned a damn thing. I'll have the van back here tomorrow morning. You're going back to the woods."

The word woods triggered a primal, cellular terror inside me. I began to tremble violently.

But then my eyes flicked to the glowing numbers hovering in the air.

Two hours left.

The fear vanished. I let my eyes slide shut. "Do whatever you want," I choked out.

His grip tightened for a second before he violently hurled me backward. "If you won't learn in here, go kneel on the gravel by the front gates."

When I hit the marble floor, the impact reverberated through my battered skeleton. With a sickening crack, the locking mechanism on my right prosthetic snapped. The leg jutted out at an unnatural, horrific angle.

Bennett and Jude's heads snapped toward the sound. Declan froze, his eyes dropping to my leg.

Before Declan could take a step toward me, Camilla let out a blood-curdling wail.

"Declan! My stomach is cramping! Am I losing the baby?!"

The men instantly snapped out of their confusion. Panic consumed them. Declan scooped Camilla into his arms, his voice shaking. "No, no, baby, hold on. I'm getting you to the hospital right now."

As he sprinted past me, the pressure in my chest finally ruptured. I coughed, and a splatter of dark blood painted the white marble.

Jude stopped dead in his tracks. He took a half-step toward me, his brow furrowing. But Bennett grabbed Jude's shoulder, yanking him toward the door.

"Leave her," Bennett snapped, glaring at me with utter revulsion. "She's incorrigible. She attacks Camilla and then puts on a pathetic show."

Jude's expression hardened into ice. "And to think I actually felt sorry for you for a second. You're pathetic, Josie."

Declan paused at the door, glancing back at me with a sneer. He gestured to his security team. "Throw her in the back of one of the SUVs. Bring her to the hospital."

Less than thirty minutes after Camilla was wheeled into the ER, a doctor rushed out, looking grave.

"The patient's body was already under immense stress," the doctor liedor recited whatever script Camilla had paid him to say. "The fall exacerbated her anemia. The fetus is in distress. We need an immediate blood transfusion to stabilize them both."

Bennett grabbed me by the back of my ruined dress and hauled me to my feet. His eyes were vicious. "She finally gets pregnant, and you try to kill it? Are you that twisted? Just because you're barren, you want everyone else to be?"

The broken prosthetic was digging directly into my raw flesh. I was shivering so violently my teeth rattled. I couldn't even form words to defend myself.

Declan stepped between us, but his words offered no salvation. They were colder than the Seattle rain outside.

"Take her to the phlebotomy wing. Draw her blood. Once Camilla is safe, we'll deal with her."

He motioned for the massive bodyguards to drag me down the hall. As I passed him, he scoffed. "Drop the tortured victim act, Josie. If you hadn't shoved her, she wouldn't need this. You brought this on yourself. And after she was so generous, offering to let you raise this baby."

He kept saying the word baby. It made the hospital lights blur.

When the guards shoved me into the chair and the nurse approached with a thick gauge needle, my mind completely shattered.

Every time I had seen a needle in that compound, I woke up without a baby. The last time I saw one, I woke up without legs. The trauma living inside my bone marrow hijacked my brain.

I screamed. I thrashed wildly, knocking the tray over, dragging my broken, dangling plastic leg as I tried to crawl toward the door.

"My baby... don't touch my baby... please..."

My pleas bounced off the sterile walls.

Bennett and Jude caught me. They slammed me back into the chair, pinning my arms down by force.

Bennett looked down at me, a twisted kind of pity entering his eyes. "Just bear it, Josie. You and Declan aren't divorced yet. Camilla's baby is your baby."

The nurse holding the tourniquet hesitated, looking at my bruised, skeletal arm, then up at Declan. "Sir... this woman is severely malnourished. Are you sure I should draw from her?"

Declan flinched, his eyes darting to my face.

The doctor from before stepped in smoothly. "The patient has a very rare blood type. If we don't draw from her relative, we'll have to wait for the blood bank. We might lose the fetus."

All three men went pale.

"Do it," Declan ordered, his voice suddenly hard again. "Those marks on her arm are makeup anyway. Don't worry about her."

Jude looked away, a flicker of guilt crossing his face. "Just do it, Josie. We can't let Camilla die."

Bennett leaned down, looking me dead in the eyes. "If Camilla pulls through this, I'll forgive you for everything you've done."

I looked up at the digital clock on the wall.

Ten minutes left.

I looked at the three men who had once promised to protect me from the dark. The men I had chosen over a peaceful life in my own world.

"Are you satisfied?" I whispered, my voice sounding like it was coming from a ghost. "You turned me into a monster, a freak, a piece of meat. Are you happy now?"

Bennett and Jude froze.

Declan grabbed my shoulder, his fingers digging into my collarbone. "You almost killed Camilla's child today! How do you have the audacity to play the victim?!"

I stared into his beautiful, hateful eyes. A slow, terrifyingly serene smile spread across my face.

"You're right. It's my fault. I never should have loved any of you."

None of them responded. The second the blood bag was full, they sprinted back to Camilla's room, leaving me bleeding in the chair.

I pulled the needle out myself. Leaving a trail of blood on the linoleum, dragging my broken leg behind me, I followed them.

I stood in the doorway of Camilla's VIP suite. The three of them were hovering over her bed like anxious guardians.

Declan glanced up, annoyed. "Come here," he commanded like I was a dog. "Apologize to Camilla, and we'll let tonight go."

I didn't walk toward the bed. I turned and walked toward the massive, floor-to-ceiling hospital window. I hit the emergency latch, pushed the heavy glass open, and pulled myself up onto the ledge. The cold city wind whipped my hair around my face.

Declan's brow furrowed. "Josie, what the hell are you doing? Stop throwing a tantrum. Faking a suicide attempt isn't going to make us feel sorry for you."

Jude shifted his weight, his eyes suddenly wide, his mouth opening and closing.

Bennett took a step forward, his voice taking on that old, commanding older-brother tone. "Get down from there right now. I told the chef to make your favorite dinner for when we get home."

Ten seconds left.

I sat on the ledge, my feet dangling over the seven-story drop. I looked at them one last time.

"An apology isn't enough," I said, my voice cutting through the wind, crystal clear. "I'll pay you back with my life. Consider the debt settled."

As the counter hit zero, I leaned forward and let gravity take me.

The last thing I saw in this universe was the blood draining entirely from all three of their faces.

A split second later, Declan let out a guttural, inhuman roar, sprinting toward the window