After Saving His Killer Ex

My mom had been blind for three years.

My father, who supposedly loved our family more than life itself, brought his abused ex-lover, Scarlett, and her daughter, Violet, into our home.

The moment they walked through the door, Scarlett's toy poodle went wild and lunged at my mom.

Scout, my moms guide dog, let out a fierce bark and scared the poodle back.

Scarlett clutched her trembling poodle, her eyes welling up with tears.

And my dad, pointing at the very guide dog he had personally trained, roared:

"You filthy beast! Bark again and Ill pull every single one of your teeth out!"

I rushed home the moment I saw the security feed on my phone.

By the time I arrived, Scout was lying on the floor, his mouth drenched in blood. His shattered teeth were scattered all over the ground.

My dad looked at my mom and said:

"Scarlett has suffered so much over the years. Now that Im successful, I wont let her and Violet suffer another second of misery!"

When he spoke of Scarlett, his eyes were filled with an unshakeable tenderness.

But he didnt know that the "success" he was so proud of was entirely built on my back.

I pushed open the front door and saw Scout tied up on the scorching, sun-drenched balcony.

A few bloody teeth lay on the concrete.

Blood was gushing from the empty sockets in Scouts mouth.

My mom was holding Scout helplessly, her palms covered in raw scrapes.

My heart instantly tightened into a knot.

"Mom, what happened?"

"Georgina, please help Scout. He got into a fight with Scarlett's dog, and your dad..."

I looked at the bloody pliers lying on the floor, and everything clicked.

I stared dead at my dad. A flicker of guilt flashed in his eyes.

A guide dog is incredibly hard to train.

My dad had spent over two years personally training Scout just to protect my mom.

Scarlett noticed his momentary guilt.

She set down her coffee cup, slowly stood up from the lounger, and carried herself with the smug air of the new lady of the house.

"Back where I come from, a dog this poorly behaved would have been put down. Pulling a few teeth is getting off easy."

Violet stroked her poodle's head, chiming in:

"Exactly. My mom cherishes this poodle your dad gave her. She can't bear to see it get hurt at all."

I glared at them. "No one asked for your opinion."

Scarlett bit her lower lip, grabbed her suitcase, and made a show of leaving.

"Christian, I told you your family wouldn't welcome me. Why did I even bother coming here!"

"Violet, pack your things. We're leaving."

The guilt in my dads eyes vanished instantly.

He rushed forward, snatched her suitcase, and pointed at the bruises on her arm, his voice thick with heartache:

"Wyatt treated you like garbage, and you want to go back there to suffer?"

"As long as I am breathing, I will never let you or Violet suffer again!"

I let out a cold laugh, looking at this "saint" of a father.

"Dad, Scout is Mom's eyes. He is family."

"Did you forget? You were the one who said that."

He looked at me with a stern, cold face.

"From now on, Scarlett and Violet are also our family!"

"And as the man of this house, let me tell you this: I dont care how spoiled you and your mother were before. From now on, you will respect them."

The midday sun was brutal. Scouts mouth was still bleeding, and my moms clothes were soaked in sweat from the heat.

I quickly untied Scout, preparing to rush him to the veterinary hospital.

"Uncle Christian, what are these clothes?"

Violet walked out of my room, holding a few of my lace designer dresses.

Those were custom pieces gifted to me by a student I sponsored, who had won a prestigious fashion competition in Paris.

Scarlett tutted, turning to my mom.

"Betty, I don't mean to criticize, but even if you're blind, you can feel how expensive this fabric is."

"Georgina is a young girl. Wearing clothes like this..."

"If word gets out, it just shows how much you've failed as a mother."

"Christian is a respected CEO now. She's completely ruining his reputation."

With that, she handed a pair of scissors to my dad.

He hesitated for a second, but took them anyway. He threw both the scissors and the dresses right in front of my mom.

"Cut them up. Otherwise, neither of you is leaving this house today."

My moms hands trembled as she clutched her shirt, trying to explain for me:

"Christian, it's not what you think. These were a gift from a student Georgina helped..."

"I don't care what they are! You live under my roof and eat my food. Do I not even have a say in this house anymore?"

My mom looked lost and helpless. Scout lay on the ground, whimpering in pain.

Without another word, I picked up the scissors.

With a heavy heart, I shredded my student's hard work into pieces and threw them at my dads feet.

"Are you satisfied now?"

My mom and I rushed Scout to the vet.

After some treatment, the bleeding finally stopped.

Though his life wasn't in danger, Scout lay at our feet, his ears drooping sadly.

Guide dogs are highly intelligent. They have dignity, and they feel emotional trauma too.

My mom sighed softly.

"Your dad is a good man. But whenever Scarlett is involved, he completely loses his mind."

From what I knew, Scarlett and my dad were childhood sweethearts.

But Scarletts father, greedy for money, forced her to marry a wealthy man's son.

Back then, my dad was dirt poor. Heartbroken, he left his hometown to build a life from scratch.

Now that he was a successful businessman and Scarlett was being abused by her alcoholic husband, Wyatt, my dad saw this as his golden opportunity to play the savior.

When we got back home, I found Violet sitting at my laptop.

She was downloading games while deleting my raw thesis files.

That was three months of hard work and experimental data. I hadn't even backed it up yet.

I snatched the laptop away, my voice rising in anger.

"That's my thesis data! Don't touch it!"

Violet whimpered like a victim. "I'm sorry... I've never had a computer at home. I was just curious. I didn't mean to..."

Hearing the noise, my dad walked into the study and saw Violet tearing up.

"Georgina, I was the one who let Violet use the computer."

"Violet's father treated her terribly growing up. Who do you think you are, flexing your attitude on her?"

Violet started crying even harder.

My dads anger flared. He snatched my laptop and threw it straight into the fish tank.

The screen went black instantly as water flooded the keyboard.

One hundred days of grueling, sleepless workgone in a flash.

Even the three goldfish in the tank were struck by the heavy laptop and sank lifelessly to the bottom.

Those goldfish were my mom's prized possessions before she lost her sight.

For three years, my dad had meticulously cared for them, feeding them and changing their water right on schedule.

Now, he stared coldly at the dead fish, his tone filled with utter impatience.

"Your mother is blind, but are you blind too? Didn't you see how happy Violet was?"

I helped my mom back to her room, feeling strangely grateful she couldn't see the ugly, venomous sneer on my dad's face.

After pulling the ruined laptop out of the fish tank, I looked at him and asked, "Do you even remember why Mom went blind in the first place?"

Three years ago was the most critical year of Christians career.

On a night with torrential rain, my mom went out to deliver a crucial folder he had forgotten.

A truck carrying steel rebar skidded on the wet road and plowed into her while she was waiting at a red light.

The rebar pierced directly through her eyes.

When the doctor declared her permanently blind, my dad knelt by her hospital bed and wept all night.

He kept sobbing, "God, why couldn't it have been me? Betty, I'm so sorry..."

He promised her: "Betty, from now on, Georgina and I will be your eyes."

"As long as I have you and Georgina, I have everything I need."

Christian's face went pale. His eyes drifted to the dead goldfish.

He frowned and muttered, "I'll just buy some new ones."

"Ah!"

Suddenly, a sharp scream came from the guest room, followed by the rich aroma of chicken soup.

We ran in to find Scarlett sprawled on the floor by my mom's bed, hot soup spilled everywhere.

She clutched her leg, her voice dripping with artificial sincerity.

"Betty, if you didn't want the soup, I could have made you something else. But how could you push me like that..."

My dad rushed over, grabbing the medical kit to bandage Scarlett.

Her leg was slightly pink, but upon closer inspection, there wasn't a single blister.

Scout barked twice, trying to draw my dad's attention to my mom's foot.

He was pacing around anxiously, and his tail accidentally brushed against Scarlett.

She immediately shrank into my dad's arms, shrieking, "Christian, it's going to bite me!"

"Wyatt used to set his dogs on me like this... I'm terrified!"

My dad kicked Scout hard in the ribs.

The poor dog collapsed, struggling several times before he could stand back up.

I couldn't take it anymore. I violently yanked up my mom's pant leg.

"Scarlett, look at my mom's foot! It's covered in severe burns! Stop putting on a goddamn show!"

Scarlett froze, then began to sob dramatically in my dad's arms.

"Christian, I didn't mean to... I swear..."

My dad flew into a rage and slapped me hard across the face.

"Is this how I raised you? How dare you speak to Scarlett with such disrespect!"

My mom started crying in panic. Being blind, she was completely helpless.

She frantically reached out, grabbing my dads hand, taking all the blame:

"Christian, it was my fault! I accidentally spilled the soup! It's all on me!"

"Don't blame Georgina! Please don't hit her..."

When I was a kid, my mom fell off her bicycle while carrying me.

We both scraped our limbsI hurt my knee, and she hurt her elbow.

Back then, my dad tenderly disinfected our wounds, looking a hundred times more pained than we were.

Now, feeling the burning sting on my cheek and the ringing in my ears, I finally saw reality for what it was.

I calmly looked at my mom and said:

"Mom, don't apologize."

"We don't need him. We can live perfectly fine on our own."

Suddenly, a strong burning smell filled the air, and the deafening screech of the building's fire alarm began to wail.

Someone screamed in the hallway: "Fire! Run!"

Amidst the frantic wailing of the fire alarm, Scarlett clung to my dad, whimpering:

"Christian, I'm so scared. We just found each other again... I don't want to die..."

My dad was deeply moved. "Scarlett, I won't let anything happen to you."

He hoisted Scarlett onto his back and started rushing out, not forgetting to grab Violet and her toy poodle.

We lived on the tenth floor.

My mom was blind, and her foot was covered in agonizing blisters from the boiling soup.

There was no way I could get her down ten flights of stairs by myself.

"Dad!"

In that moment of sheer terror, a tiny sliver of hope still lingered in my heart.

Christian glanced back at me, his guilty eyes saying everything.

Desperate, I yelled again, "Dad! What about us?"

"Georgina, the fire is spreading fast. I have to get Scarlett and Violet down first!"

With that, he turned around and fled without looking back.

My mom stared blankly in the direction he had gone, her tears flowing endlessly.

I had no time to cry.

I grabbed Scouts leash and put my mom's arm over my shoulder.

The stairwell was thick with choking smoke. People were pushing past us in a panic.

From the tenth floor down to the eighth, my mom tripped and fell three times.

By the fourth time she fell, I decided to carry her on my back.

She refused vehemently.

"Georgina, listen to me. You are young. You have so much ahead of you."

"You can't escape if you're carrying me. You surviving is my only wish..."

My voice was steel. "Mom, we leave together. If you won't go, Scout and I will die right here with you."

Scout seemed to understand. He let out two sharp, encouraging barks and nudged my mom with his snout.

After a moment of hesitation, she finally relented.

I hoisted her onto my back, realizing she was far lighter than I had ever imagined.

Thick smoke swirled around us. Everyone else had already sprinted past.

By the time we stumbled down to the second floor, our path was blocked.

The ceiling had collapsed, sealing the exit door with heavy debris.

I leaned out of a small hallway window and screamed, "Help! Somebody help us!"

Through the window, I could see Christian sitting safely on the lawn below, gently brushing a stray lock of hair behind Scarletts ear.

The temperature in the stairwell skyrocketed. The black smoke grew suffocating.

My mom coughed violently, and my eyes burned so badly I could barely keep them open.

She slipped off my back again.

Suddenly, Scout ripped his leash out of my hand. He threw his body repeatedly against the blocked exit door.

Once, twice, three times...

Just before my mom and I lost consciousness, the door gave way under Scout's relentless weight.

We stumbled out into the fresh, cool air.

On the grass, Christian was busy feeding Scarlett water while carefully applying ointment to a tiny blister on Violet's finger.

He was so absorbed in his touching reunion with his first love that he had completely forgotten his wife and daughter were trapped in a burning building.

I stared at the "happy little family." Then, I pulled out my phone and sent a text.

[Spread the word. Cancel all of Christian's business privileges and patents.]

In the midst of surviving the ordeal, my phone rang. It was the hospital.

"Is this Betty's family? A matching cornea donor has just passed away."

"Time is of the essence. Please bring Betty to the hospital immediately for surgery."

I had never believed in miracles, but in that moment, I wept with gratitude.

I grabbed my mom's hand. "Mom, we got a cornea! You're going to see again!"

Scout wagged his tail furiously, as if he understood every word.

But I had underestimated the chaos of the fire. Half the city's traffic was paralyzed.

No cars could get in or out of our block.

After begging a firefighter, I finally secured two seats in an emergency vehicle.

Before we could get in, Christian blocked us. "Georgina, let Violet and Scarlett take those seats. They're hurt."

I looked at the mother-daughter duo. Their cheeks were flushed and healthy. The only "injury" they had was a tiny blister on Violet's pinky.

I refused flatly.

"Absolutely not. My mom needs to get to the hospital right now for a cornea transplant!"

He threw a dismissive, cynical glance at my mom.

"Are you still this naive? Last time you rushed to the hospital, the donor's family backed out at the last second."

"People aren't that selfless. Stop dreaming."

I stood firmly in front of my mom. "This time is different."

"It's no different! The smoke is bad here. Let Scarlett and Violet go first!"

The paramedic intervened. "There are only two seats left. Whoever needs emergency surgery goes first."

"Wait!"

Christian pulled out his phone and showed the paramedic a digital copy of my therapy records.

A while ago, I had struggled with insomnia because I was so stressed about my mom's blindness.

Christian had set up an appointment with a therapist, telling me I just needed to vent to a professional.

"This is my daughter. She's a pathological liar. There is no surgery. Her therapist says she has severe delusion issues!"

The paramedic looked at the psychiatric record, frowned, and ushered Scarlett and Violet into the vehicle.

My phone rang again. It was the hospital. "You must arrive within the hour."

"Otherwise, the cornea will go to the next patient on the waiting list."

"We'll make it! We will be there!" I cried.

Hanging up, I fell to my knees in front of Christian.

"Dad, I beg you. Just let us go first. I'll do anything."

"I'll sign over the patent rights your company has been begging for."

Violet scoffed. "Aren't you just a broke lab assistant? Since when do you own patents?"

"Uncle Christian hates liars, you know."

Scarlett clutched her forehead, whimpering, "Christian, my head hurts so bad... Am I going to die..."

Scout seemed to realize what was happening.

He dragged his battered body forward and used his remaining teeth to gently tug on Christians trousers, pleading.

"Get lost!"

Christian kicked Scout away with brutal force.

The dogs head slammed directly into a wooden plank with a rusty, exposed nail.

With a soft, pained whimper, Scout took his last breath.

Christian guided Scarlett and Violet into the emergency vehicle and drove off.

My mom cradled Scouts lifeless body, weeping uncontrollably.

She grabbed my hand, her voice filled with absolute despair. "Georgina, don't beg him... I don't want the surgery anymore."

"Mom, don't say that!"

A cornea donor is a once-in-a-lifetime chance.

The emergency vehicle drove right past us. No matter how much I screamed, it didn't stop.

The crowd around us stared at me as if I were a lunatic.

Just as I was about to spiral into total despair, the deafening roar of a helicopter filled the air. A private chopper landed right in the middle of the grass.

An elegant, middle-aged man who bore a striking resemblance to my mom stepped out.

He rushed over and grabbed our hands. "I'm sorry... I'm so sorry I'm late..."

Behind him, several police officers jumped out, immediately intercepting the ambulance and handcuffing Scarlett.

"Scarlett Vance, you are under arrest for the murder of your husband, Wyatt Vance. Please come with us."