His "True Love" Was Fake... So Was My Corpse, Sucker! - Chapter 112: Chapter 112

That rainy night when we'd eloped, we were just five minutes away from catching our flight abroad, our tickets to freedom clutched in my trembling hand.
But we were a step too late.
The maid had gone to deliver my bedtime milk as usual, but noticed no one answered after knocking repeatedly.
Assuming I was just asleep, the sharp-eyed butler used her master key to open the door, only to find the bedroom window wide open, cold wind rushing in, and me nowhere to be found.
The mansion's security team immediately sensed something was wrong. They pulled up surveillance footage from across the city and positioned guards at every transportation hub to catch us, an invisible net closing around our escape attempt.
The moment they spotted us, we didn't even have time to react before they had us pinned to the ground.
Those hurried pedestrians we'd seen earlier? All undercover security guards planted there beforehand.
We never stood a chance of escaping that night—our freedom had been an illusion from the start.
Through the thick fog and fine rain, we locked eyes with deep, sorrowful gazes.
Cold raindrops trickled into my eyes, becoming silent tears that rolled down my cheeks.
Suddenly, a sharp honking sound of a freight truck pierced the air.
A large freight truck skidded on its tires, its brakes failing. It careened out of control and drove straight towards us.
Caleb didn't know where he found the strength, but he actually broke free from the bodyguard's restraint and forcefully pushed me away. I was so frightened that I was trembling all over, my scream caught in my throat.
The wheels rolled over his legs, and he heard the crisp sound of his bones cracking.
Dark red and viscous blood began to seep out from his body. Just before losing consciousness, he took one last look at me, covered in tears and slumped in the arms of another guard who had caught me as I fainted.
Caleb thought he was surely going to die in this car accident.
Unexpectedly, at the moment he pushed me away, one of the bodyguards was also shoved aside and managed to escape from under the wheels.
Out of gratitude, he kept it from my parents, secretly rushed Caleb to the hospital for emergency treatment. After giving a sum of money to the attending doctor, he left in a hurry.
Caleb had a ruptured spleen, intracranial bleeding, a concussion, and both legs shattered.
They fought for his life for a day and night. He spent nearly a month in intensive care before finally regaining consciousness.
While his body slowly recovered, the hardest part was rehabilitating his legs.
Caleb had been listless at first, until he saw news of the Ryans and Sullivans' marriage alliance on the hospital TV. The sight of a gaunt, pale me broke his heart.
No matter what, he had to get me back.
Caleb showed incredible determination, throwing himself into rehab day and night.
But it was a long, excruciating process.
Like shattering his drifting soul, then painstakingly reassembling it piece by piece, the rehabilitation seemed designed to test the limits of human endurance.
At first, Caleb couldn't even stand. The moment his feet touched the ground, searing pain shot through him like lightning. Unable to control his weak legs, he'd collapse unceremoniously, the impact sending fresh waves of agony through his already broken body.
Some nurses and doctors tried to help him rest, but he firmly pushed them away, determination setting his jaw into a hard line.
"Leave me alone! I have to... stand up again..." Each word cost him, but he refused to give in.
Caleb's face was drenched in cold sweat, pale as paper, his voice hoarse from shouting through the pain.
Even when wracked with agony and covered in sweat, he never considered giving up. He'd grab the support bars and pull himself up again, his muscles screaming in protest.
But after just two steps, his legs would give out, sending him crashing down hard on the unforgiving floor.
It felt like someone was stabbing daggers into his knees and twisting them. No matter how strong he was, the sheer physical torture forced tears from his eyes, though he tried desperately to hide them.
The attending physician couldn't watch anymore and rushed forward, scolding him sternly.
"Mr. Hayes, rehabilitation can't be rushed. You might think you're speeding up your recovery this way, but your body can't handle this kind of pain! You'll do permanent damage!"
"I told you, I can do this..." Caleb's voice was barely audible, but his resolve was iron.
He bit his lip until it bled, forcing himself to stand once more.
From the rehab room door to the end of the hallway—just a few dozen yards—felt like a lifetime's journey, each inch gained through sheer willpower.
He fell countless times, then slowly crawled back up. Even with bruised arms from falling, he refused anyone's help, pushing away offered hands with stubborn independence.
Many doctors and patients gathered to watch, moved to tears by his relentless determination. Other patients with leg disabilities started volunteering for rehab too, inspired by Caleb's refusal to surrender to his condition.