Ana's POV
The day I walked out of prison, they had to carry me on a stretcher. My body was so frail I barely resembled a person anymore. My right arm hung limp and useless, while both my legs were streaked with dried blood.
Three months back, someone had orchestrated my downfall, fabricating evidence and throwing me behind bars in place of the true Watson daughter, Aileen Watson.
Behind those walls, they severed the tendons in the hand I once used to wield a scalpel. The legs that had once carried me to international dance competitions were beaten until I could barely support my own weight.
I was prepared to surrender to despair, until my husband, Ridley Collin, moved heaven and earth to pull me out.
When Ridley saw my condition, he went rigid for a heartbeat, then scrambled from the car and gathered me into his arms.
"Ana, this is my fault. I should have gotten you out sooner." Ridley's voice trembled as he climbed into the ambulance behind the paramedics.
This man, typically so controlled and composed, was actually weeping. I'd witnessed him cry only twice before—on our wedding day, and when our son Hughes Collin was born.
That single tear landed on my cheek, and my own defenses finally crumbled. I hadn't shed a tear when they beat me.
I hadn't cried when they sliced through my hand.
But now the dam burst.
I pressed myself against Ridley's chest, inhaling the familiar scent that had always brought me peace. At least I still had my husband, my son, my chosen family who cherished me.
Ridley's eyes reddened as he crushed me closer, his voice hoarse with emotion. "Ana, I'll hunt down whoever did this to you. I'll prove your innocence."
Nestled against his chest, feeling the tremor in his voice, my broken heart began to soften slightly.
With a husband and son who loved me this deeply, I didn't care that the Watson family only had eyes for Aileen, or that my former fiancé had abandoned me. None of that held any weight now.
Ridley ducked his head, guilt saturating every word. "If I hadn't asked you to make that drive, they wouldn't have had anything to frame you with. They wouldn't have been able to pin that hit-and-run on you."
I shook my head weakly. How could any of this be his fault? Everyone knew Ridley was among the most devoted husbands alive. After our marriage, he never let me handle anything strenuous. He pampered me completely.
He'd even worried about me overworking, constantly urging me to quit, promising he'd provide for everything. The heir to the Collin family, and he still adored me like this.
Everyone had envied me.
But now... after what I'd endured, did I even deserve him anymore?
My voice came out broken as I whispered, "I'm terrified I'll never hold a scalpel again. I'm scared I'll never dance."
Ridley's eyes filled again. His voice shook as he tried to comfort me. "If you can't hold a scalpel, then I'll support you for the rest of our lives.
"If you can't dance, then forget it. Honestly, I always hated how other men would stare at you anyway."
I managed a weak, bitter smile. Ridley had always admired my legs, and now they were nothing but mangled flesh.
Even after the wounds healed, they'd remain disfigured. I expected he'd grow tired of looking at them eventually.
At the hospital, I finally saw Hughes.
The boy flung himself beside my bed and dissolved into tears. "Mom, I'm so sorry. I didn't realize what I said would become evidence. This is all my fault.
I got confused. If I could trade my legs for yours, I would."
My mind drifted back three months, when I'd been accused of hit-and-run. Hughes, called as a witness, claimed he remembered me leaving the house that day.
Hughes had always been the obedient child, mature beyond his years. That premature wisdom sometimes made him seem emotionally distant.
But now, he was sobbing so hard his face was a wreck, snot and tears streaming everywhere. He looked heartbroken.
Despite his early maturity, he was still just a child. Children got things mixed up. My heart melted as I ran my fingers through his hair. "I'm not angry with you."
Through his sobs, Hughes choked out, "Then let me be your legs. I'll run for you. I'll explore the world for you."
Those words pierced my heart. I was fortunate. My son and husband hadn't abandoned me. If anything, they'd been treating me even more tenderly.
I hadn't received much affection from my birth family, but the family I'd created had been loving.
After the operation, I still couldn't feel my hand or legs. My throat felt like sandpaper, and I tried to call for someone, but then I heard Hughes's voice drifting through the door.
"Dad, Mom looks so broken right now. She can still sort of stand, but she'll never dance again. The doctor said she won't be able to hold a scalpel steady either," Hughes said.
My chest constricted so painfully I wanted to collapse. I'd suspected this outcome, but hearing it confirmed still devastated me.
Then Hughes continued, "Dad, didn't we cross a line, creating false testimony to frame Mom, just to shield Aileen?"
I went completely still. I must have misheard. My eyes snapped open in disbelief.
Ridley's response came next, emotionless and calculating. "Aileen is a prima ballerina. Her reputation can't have even the smallest stain.
"As for Ana, she usurped Aileen's position as the real Watson daughter all these years and condemned Aileen to grow up parentless. This is payback. Besides, she married me, didn't she? What more does she need?"
I bit my lip until I nearly broke skin, forcing myself to remain silent. So it was them. They were the ones who destroyed me.
But I was switched at birth—I had no control over that. How could they frame it as me stealing Aileen's place?
And Ridley—how could he transform like this? Were all those promises, all that devotion, just elaborate lies?
Hughes sighed and agreed, "Mom was always causing trouble for Aileen. It's time she faced consequences. We'll compensate her eventually."
Eventually? What "eventually" did I have left?
Every syllable reached my ears with crystal clarity.
The anguish tearing through my chest was more excruciating than any physical torture I'd endured. A tear escaped before I could stop it.
So it was them. My husband and my own son.
They were the ones who destroyed my body, who sacrificed me to protect Aileen. In their eyes, only Aileen mattered.
Hughes's voice grew softer, tinged with guilt. "But Dad, we delayed her surgery. That's why her hand and legs ended up this damaged. If she ever discovers the truth, won't she completely break?"
So if they'd allowed the doctors to operate immediately, my hand and legs might have recovered? And they still postponed it? A crushing despair settled over my chest, nearly suffocating me.
Ridley responded with tired irritation, as if explaining something obvious. "So what if she finds out? She can't return to the Watson family.
With her body ruined, she'll never have the strength to leave us anyway."
Then his tone shifted suddenly, becoming almost playful. "Hughes, you care about Aileen, don't you? Now that Ana's neutralized, she won't interfere with you seeing Aileen anymore. Isn't that perfect?"
"Absolutely. Mom's always been so controlling. That's what happens when someone never got a real education. All she ever did was compete with other women.
"And she was constantly nagging me about talking to Aileen. It was infuriating." Hughes's young voice sounded so innocent, but the words that emerged cut like knives.
My eyes widened as tears poured down my face, my chest contracting until I could barely draw breath.
Hughes had told me himself that he didn't like Aileen. That's why I kept declining her requests to see him. How had everything become twisted into being my fault?