I lay there, trapped in my own body, unable to move, unable to scream—but I could hear everything.

Seth's ragged breathing. The soft, wet sounds of lips meeting. The rustle of fabric as fingers skimmed over skin in the dim glow of my hospital room.

Right in front of me.

Iris Flores moaned softly, her voice saccharine, teasing. "Seth… Emily's right here."

A pause. His breath hitched. But then, his voice—low and hoarse. "She can't do anything, Iris."

A hand slid beneath fabric, a quiet gasp followed.

My nails would have dug into my palms if I could move them. My body was useless, but my mind was screaming.

Seth Kelly—my husband, the man I gave everything to—held another woman in his arms, touching her the way he once touched me.

And Iris… my supposed best friend, the woman who had stolen my life, my dreams, my happiness.

They thought I was nothing more than a broken doll.

But they were wrong.

Because I was waking up.

And when I did, I wouldn't stop until I ruined them both.

...

The moment the scalding liquid splashed across her face, Emily Wagner's world turned into a nightmare.

The pain was immediate—white-hot, searing agony that ate through her skin like wildfire. A scream ripped from her throat as she collapsed onto the pavement, her hands clawing at her burning face. The acrid stench of scorched flesh filled the air, mingling with the gasps and horrified whispers of onlookers.

Somewhere in the distance, she heard sirens wailing. But all she could think about was the Kensington Design Competition. She had won—she had secured first place. And now, her future, her dreams, her very existence, had been reduced to this—smoke, pain, and devastation.

Then came the final blow.

From her hospital bed, Emily watched the televised announcement, her mangled reflection barely recognizable in the screen's glow.

"This year's true champion, the incredibly talented Iris Flores!"

Applause. Cheers. And there, standing beside the host, was her fiancé, Magnus Kelly.

Hand in hand with Iris.

The cameras zoomed in, capturing the way Magnus held Iris close, pressing a kiss to her forehead, his voice smooth as silk.

"Iris deserves this. She's always been the real artist."

Emily's breath hitched. The betrayal sliced deeper than the acid ever could.

Her best friend. Her fiancé.

A guttural scream of rage and agony tore from her throat.

Three days later, Emily crashed the wedding, demanding answers from the organizers, only to face ridicule from the guests because of her appearance.

The grand ballroom of the St. Clair Hotel was drenched in golden light, laughter and champagne filling the air. Iris, in a lace-covered designer gown, looked radiant as she clung to Magnus's arm, batting her lashes at him like a love-struck girl.

And then—Emily appeared at the entrance.

A collective gasp swept through the room. Guests whispered behind gloved hands. Some recoiled.

"Oh my God…" someone murmured.

With slow, deliberate steps, Emily strode down the aisle, the pristine white carpet now tainted by her presence.

"Why?" she rasped, her voice hoarse from grief and rage. "Why, Magnus?"

Silence. Then, Magnus turned, his lips curling in distaste.

"You're embarrassing yourself, Emily."

Iris sighed dramatically, pressing a delicate hand to her chest. "We didn't want you to find out this way…"

"You stole my life!" Emily spat, her fingers trembling. "My designs! My future! Everything!"

Magnus sighed, as if she were nothing more than an inconvenience.

"Emily, you were never meant to be the star. You were just—" He waved a hand vaguely. "A stepping stone."

Laughter rippled through the guests.

Something inside Emily shattered.

But before she could collapse, someone stepped forward.

Seth Kelly.

Magnus's younger brother, usually the quiet, observant one, suddenly dropped to one knee before her.

"I'll marry you."

Gasps.

Emily's vision blurred as she stared down at him, utterly stunned.

Seth's hands trembled, but his voice was firm. "Emily, I've loved you for years. I don't care what you look like. If you'll have me—I swear, I'll cherish you forever."

Tears burned Emily's eyes.

Everyone around her had betrayed her. But Seth… he was offering her an escape. A future.

And so, with rage and heartbreak twisting inside her, she whispered, "Yes."

Five years later, she finally became pregnant.

Throughout her pregnancy, Seth encouraged her to enter another competition, assuring her he supported her ambitions.

For three intense months, she dedicated herself to her designs. Eager to share her success with him.

Then, just outside the door—she froze.

A woman's honeyed voice coiled around her like a noose.

"Seth, thank you."

Emily's stomach twisted. Iris Flores?

"Iris, you know the only reason I married that ugly duckling was for you!", Seth's voice murmured smoothly.

The term "ugly duckling" pierced Emily's heart. Was this how he truly saw her? But hadn't he promised her that looks didn't matter?

"Seth, how's your ugly duckling's work coming along?" Iris asked, feigning innocence.

"Don't worry. She's been putting in a lot of effort," Seth replied soothingly. "If not for your future, why would I bother stringing her along?"

"Look, she even sent over her drafts. You're certain to win first place again!"

Their laughter echoed painfully in her ears.

Emily glanced at the drafts she had sent him just minutes earlier. Her heart felt as if it had turned to stone.

The man she loved completely had married her just to placate another woman.

Her belly ached as she left, her steps heavy.

Baby, do you feel this pain too? Are you sensing your mother's heartbreak?

Tears streamed uncontrollably down her face.

While crossing the street, a car suddenly raced past her, and the world spun around.

The next moment, searing pain shot through her entire body from her abdomen, and she crumpled to the ground. She heard Seth's frantic voice nearby: "Emily, Emily!"

He had chased after her...

By the time she reached the hospital, her consciousness was fading.

"Prepare for an emergency cesarean."

As they wheeled her into the operating room, she grasped the doctor's hand, pleading, "Please, save my baby..."

"Don't worry, we'll do everything we can."

With no time for anesthesia, they performed the C-section as she endured the excruciating pain.

For her child, she had to hang on.

She had no idea how long she withstood the agony before finally sensing a lightness in her belly.

She watched as the baby was lifted out.

Limp limbs, and silence.

The baby was gone...

The machines began to emit a warning beep.

"Patient's heart rate dropping, she's losing the will to live."

Her phone rang.

The doctor answered and put it on speaker, hoping she could hear even if her eyes were closed.

It was Seth's desperate voice.

"Emily, Iris suddenly isn't feeling well. I need to take her to the hospital. I know you can handle this alone; you're strong, and with the baby there, everything will be fine."

The doctor abruptly ended the call, cutting off mid-sentence.

Upon receiving the news, Emily tasted something metallic at the back of her throat, leading to a sudden bout of vomiting and a pounding headache.

"The patient has suffered severe brain trauma and needs immediate surgery to relieve intracranial pressure and check for any signs of internal bleeding," the doctor announced.

"Where are the family members?"

Emily heard this just before losing consciousness, slipping into a deep, heavy sleep.

・・・

When she eventually awoke, she found herself unable to move, her eyelids heavy and unresponsive. All she could do was listen.

Time felt suspended until the doctor's voice shattered the silence: "Due to severe brain damage, the patient is in a vegetative state. Whether she wakes up will depend on her survival instincts. We've done everything possible."

Seth's voice was filled with anxiety. "Is it that serious? When will she regain consciousness? The design competition is coming up, and her sketches are not finished!"

If only she could speak, Emily would have demanded to know if Seth had any sense of decency. She had risked her life to have his child, yet all he cared about was her waking up to continue being a tool for his creativity.

The doctor sighed. "If she doesn't wake up within the first three months, the chances of recovery decrease significantly. Although she's in a coma, she might still be able to perceive things. You can try talking to her or holding her hand to see if it strengthens her will to live."

Their footsteps gradually faded away.

Soon after, Emily sensed someone else approaching.

"Emily Wagner, long time no see, huh? But look at the state you're in now—what a disaster! I remember when I asked Seth to stop you from entering the competition. He complied by crashing into you, leaving you in this vegetative state. Watching you bleed out, I genuinely felt sorry for you!"

Emily felt a jolt deep inside, unable to believe what she was hearing.

Was it really Seth who hit her? Even though she knew he was heartless, confronting the reality of his cruelty chilled her to the bone.

"So what if you're talented? I told him I wanted to marry Magnus, so your husband conveniently arranged for someone to sabotage your career."

"I mentioned that you might make a comeback in the design industry after reconstructive surgery, and he assured me he'd never let that happen."

"So, all your hard work only paved the way for me to become number one."

The attack on her reputation hadn't been an accident—it was Seth's doing?

She had loved him wholeheartedly for five years, dreaming of a future together.

Despite enduring years of professional ridicule, she thought he was shielding her from gossip and slander. But it turned out he was the root of all her suffering.

No wonder every time she talked about rekindling her career, he'd argue against it, claiming appearances didn't matter and that he just wanted her to be a homemaker. His so-called acceptance was just a setup for Iris Flores.

Her achievements were mere gifts to the woman he truly loved.

"You were only ever worthy of taking off my shoes, nothing more than a stepping stone," Iris sneered, her voice laced with arrogance and spite.

If Emily could rise, she would tear Iris apart.

"The doctor said she might feel and hear things? What nonsense! Not even this kind of provocation gets a reaction."

"Just look at yourself! Washed up and still trying to compete with me—keep dreaming!"

Hearing this, Emily felt her eyes sting and swell with discomfort.

Could someone in a vegetative state actually cry?

Iris let out an amused scoff.

"Oh wow," she whispered. "You can hear me, can't you?"

She leaned in, her perfume suffocatingly sweet.

"Pathetic."

The door clicked shut.

Silence settled once more.

But this time, something was different.

Something inside Emily had changed.

The rage burned brighter.

The grief twisted sharper.

The hatred sank deeper.

She would wake up.

She would rise again.

And when she did—

She would burn them all to the ground.