My Death, His Punishment
Today was supposed to be my birthday, but it became the most humiliating day of my life.
The banquet hall gleamed with lights and the music played softly, yet none of it concerned me.
Simon Yates sat at the head of the table, his eyes cold as ice as he stared at me, as if I were trash.
"Cindy Lincoln, don't you like to pretend you're so pure and untouched?"
His voice was low but carried clearly across the entire banquet hall.
All eyes locked onto me—some mocking, some sympathetic, but mostly just hungry for drama.
I gripped the edge of my clothes until my fingertips turned white, yet I couldn't say a word.
"Since you love putting on a show, let everyone see just how 'clean' you really are."
Simon Yates waved his hand, and two bodyguards immediately stepped forward, grabbing me on each side.
"No! Simon Yates, you can't do this to me!"
I struggled with all my might, tears streaming uncontrollably down my face.
But my strength was nothing compared to the bodyguards'.
My clothes were torn apart roughly, and the cold wind instantly wrapped around my body, its biting chill causing me to shiver.
Laughter and whistles broke out around me; those once-familiar faces now looked completely strange and ugly.
Simon Yates wore a blank expression, as if everything unfolding before him was nothing more than a meaningless farce.
Wendy Klein approached, dressed in an opulent gown, her face painted with a counterfeit concern.
"Cindy, don't be angry. Simon just lost his head for a moment."
She spoke as she reached out to steady me, but the next moment, the sharp tip of her high heel drove cruelly into my shoulder.
A stabbing pain shot through me instantly; I gasped for air, tears streaming even harder.
"Ah!"
I couldn't help but cry out, but Wendy Klein seemed deaf to it, pressing down even harder instead.
"Look at you, how careless—you can't even stand steady."
Her voice was soft, but her eyes brimmed with pride and cruelty.
Simon Yates watched everything unfold without stopping it; a sneer tugged at the corner of his mouth.
"Throw her out—let her 'come to her senses' properly up on the snowy mountain."
The bodyguard hauled me toward the door.
Outside was the endless snowy mountain, the wind and snow intensifying, with visibility less than five meters.
I was thrown into the snow; icy flakes seeped through my skin instantly, freezing me nearly numb.
At that moment, the distant howls of wolves echoed.
Fear gripped me so tightly that my entire body froze; I struggled to stand, but cold and terror rendered me helpless.
Simon Yates and Wendy Klein stepped out as well, standing at the doorway, looking down on me with condescension.
The wolf pack drew closer, their green eyes piercingly terrifying in the snowy night.
I stared at Simon, my eyes filled with desperation: "Simon, save me! Please, I beg you!"
But he just looked at me coldly, and then, the instant the wolf pack lunged, he suddenly reached out and shoved me violently away.
I screamed as I tumbled toward the wolf pack.
Just as I thought I was surely going to die, Simon Yates ran into the banquet hall carrying Wendy Klein and slammed the door behind him.
The moment the door closed, I heard Simon's voice, icy and ruthless: "Cindy Lincoln, this is what you owe me! If it weren't for you, my parents wouldn't have died!"
He had always believed that I was the one who caused his parents' death.
An overwhelming wave of injustice and despair washed over me, and my vision darkened as I lost consciousness.
When I woke up again, I was already in the hospital.
The white ceiling and walls were suffused with the sharp scent of disinfectant.
My body was still frail; the wound on my shoulder throbbed faintly, while the wolf bites sent sharp, stabbing pains through me.
A nurse walked in, holding a medical chart, her expression complicated as she looked at me.
"Ms. Lincoln, this is your diagnosis report."
I took the report, my fingers trembling slightly.
When the words "Late-Stage Stomach Cancer" appeared before my eyes, it felt as if my entire world had collapsed.
Late-Stage Stomach Cancer...
I'm only in my twenties—how could I have this disease?
Clutching the report, my hands shook uncontrollably as silent tears slipped down my cheeks.
The nurse looked at me and sighed, "Ms. Lincoln, although it's late stage, there's still a chance for treatment. Don't give up."
I shook my head, my heart sinking into a void of silence.
Treatment? Where on earth do I still have money for treatment?
Over the years, Simon Yates tightly controlled me. All my assets were long ago taken by him under various pretenses.
Just then, a man in a suit walked in—he was Simon Yates's assistant.
"Ms. Lincoln, this is the property transfer agreement. Please sign it."
He placed a document in front of me, stating that all the real estate and savings under my name were to be transferred to Simon Yates.
"I won't sign!"
I pushed the document back, my voice hoarse.
"Ms. Lincoln, you'd better sign it."
The assistant's tone was threatening, "President Ye said, if you don't sign, you'll have to face the consequences yourself."
I stared at him, my heart sinking into despair.
I know, Simon Yates is a man of his word—he really will do something even crueler to me.
The nurse couldn't hold back and said, "Sir, Ms. Lincoln's health is deteriorating; she has late-stage stomach cancer. Can't you let her get treated first? These matters can wait until she's a little better, can't they?"
The assistant glanced coldly at the nurse and said, 'This is between us—none of your business.'
The nurse was about to say something else but was silenced by a sharp look from the assistant.
I stared at everything before me, my heart sinking into a deep chill.
I picked up the pen and signed my name on the document.
After signing, the assistant grabbed the file and turned to leave without saying a single unnecessary word.
The nurse looked at me, her eyes filled with pity: "Ms. Lincoln, how could you be so blind? That's your property!"
I forced a bitter smile and remained silent.
In front of Simon Yates, I no longer had any room to choose.
It wasn't long before Wendy Klein arrived.
She wore a beautiful dress, her face adorned with delicate makeup, and she seemed to be in a very good mood.
"Cindy, I heard you were sick? I came especially to see you."
She said, sitting by my bedside, her eyes darting around the hospital room.
"By the way, I accidentally scraped my skin a bit yesterday. Simon insisted on taking me to the best hospital to see the best doctor and even bought a lot of expensive ointments. Look, it's all healed now."
She held out her hand, proudly showing the tiny, nearly invisible scratch on her wrist.
I looked at her, a wave of nausea welling up inside me.
My wolf bite was still oozing with pus, no one cared about my late-stage stomach cancer, yet she only had a minor scrape and received such meticulous care from Simon Yates.
This is the difference—how Simon Yates treated me versus how he treated her.
Wendy Klein sat for a while, then stood up to leave.
When she reached the door, she suddenly turned back, smiling as she said, "By the way, Cindy, Simon said he's craving a cake from a certain bakery. Now that you're feeling much better, could you do him the favor of running over there?"
"That shop is quite far from here. It'll take about five hours on foot. You'd better hurry up and not keep Simon waiting."
I looked at her, unable to believe my own ears.
I was burning with a high fever, my body frail and weak, and I still had to walk five hours just to buy a cake?
The nurse nearby overheard and couldn't help but exclaim, "No way! Ms. Lincoln is running a high fever and is so weak. Walking for five hours could be deadly! It might even leave her disabled!"
Wendy Klein smiled dismissively. "Oh, you're exaggerating. She's not that fragile."
"Besides, if Simon wants to eat, isn't it only natural for her to go buy it?"
After saying that, she turned and walked away, leaving me and the nurse frozen in shocked silence.
I lay in bed, feeling completely powerless, tears streaming down my face once more.
Simon Yates, what exactly do you want me to do before you finally let me go?
My body hadn't fully recovered when Simon Yates came to take me out of the hospital.
He said he was taking me to an important banquet.
I knew that the so-called "important banquet" was just another excuse for him to torment me.
The banquet was held in a luxurious hotel, attended exclusively by wealthy and powerful people.
The moment Simon Yates entered the hotel, he was immediately surrounded by a crowd, while Wendy Klein linked her arm through his, smiling brightly.
I felt invisible, trailing behind them, as if no one even noticed I existed.
When the banquet began, Simon Yates took the seat of honor, with Wendy sitting right beside him.
A man who looked like an executive approached, glass in hand, smiling as he said to Simon, "Mr. Ye, this must be Ms. Lincoln, right? I've long heard that Ms. Lincoln has quite the drinking capacity. Tonight, you've got to join us for a few drinks."
Simon Yates shot me a glance, a cold smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth: "Since Mr. Warren has asked, you'd better have a few drinks with him."
I stared at the glass before me, a wave of dread washing over my heart.
My stomach cancer was already in its late stages; I couldn't drink at all, but I knew I had no right to refuse.
I raised the glass, forcing back the pain in my stomach, and swallowed it in one gulp.
The burning liquor seared my throat and stomach, the agony nearly stealing my voice.
"Well done! Ms. Lincoln truly has a strong tolerance for alcohol!"
Mr. Warren applauded and poured me another glass.
One by one, people came over to raise their glasses to me.
Simon Yates sat there coldly observing, occasionally laughing with those around him, completely indifferent to my suffering.
I drank glass after glass, my stomach twisting painfully, like a knife relentlessly turning inside.
Just when I was about to collapse, someone lifted a glass to toast Wendy Klein.
But Simon suddenly reached out, stepping in front of Wendy with a smile, saying, 'Wendy can't drink; I'll have this one for her.'
He picked up the wine glass and drank it all in one go, his movements graceful, eyes filled with tenderness for Wendy Klein.
The people around them started making a fuss, saying they had a sweet relationship.
I watched this scene, my heart stabbing with pain as if pricked by needles.
Though drinking was the same, he treated Wendy with every care, but with me, he was neglectful, even using me as a shield to block drinks.
The pain in my stomach grew more intense; I felt my consciousness beginning to blur.
Just then, a chubby man with a big face walked over; he was Yale Gabriel, young master of Gabriel Group.
Yale Gabriel fixed me with a look full of ill intent. "Ms. Lincoln, drinking alone is dull. Why don't you do a striptease for us to spice things up?"
No sooner had he spoken than laughter erupted all around.
Someone else joined in, "Yeah, yeah, Ms. Lincoln, we still haven't had our fill of those nude photos from your last birthday party. Why not dance this time and give us a show?"
The mention of those nude photos made my face go deathly pale.
That was a humiliation I would carry for life, and yet they had the nerve to bring it up in public.
I bit my lip hard, holding back tears, refusing to move.
Yale Gabriel saw this and reached out to grab me. "What? No respect?"
I struggled to pull away, but he caught my wrist in one firm grip.
His grip was so strong that the pain almost drove me to tears.
I looked at Simon Yates, my eyes full of desperate pleading, hoping he would save me.
But Simon Yates only looked on coldly, a hint of mockery curling his lips: "Mr. Gabriel, don't be so rough."
"But come to think of it, for a murderer like her, anyone who looks her way is already doing her a favor."
Murderer...
Those three words struck my heart like a heavy hammer, pounding relentlessly.
I stared at Simon Yates, my heart filled with despair and fury.
I didn't kill anyone! I didn't cause his parents' death!
Why won't he believe me, no matter what?
The pain in my stomach intensified, and I felt something rising up from my throat.
I spat it all out in one gush—bright red blood.
The crowd instantly fell silent. Yale Gabriel also released my hand, his face twisted with disgust.
I stared at the blood on the floor, my vision went black, and I fainted.
When I came to again, I was already inside Simon Yates' villa.
The room was pitch dark, the curtains drawn tightly shut.
I lay on the cold floor, my stomach still throbbing, my entire body weak and powerless.
The door swung open, and Simon Yates stepped inside.
He smelled of alcohol, his eyes glassy and unfocused, clearly drunk.
He approached me, crouched down, and looked at me with a tangled mix of emotions in his eyes.
I didn't know what he intended; fear gripped me, and I instinctively recoiled.
But Simon suddenly reached out, grabbing my wrist and yanking me up with force.
"Cindy Lincoln, what exactly do you think you're doing?"
His voice was hoarse, tinged with a barely perceptible anger.
He grabbed me painfully, and I couldn't help but frown. "I didn't do anything."
"Nothing at all?"
Simon sneered coldly, "You drank so much—what, are you trying to kill yourself?"
"You think if you die, you won't have to pay your debts?"
I looked at him, heart heavy with grievance. "You were the one who made me drink. They forced me!"
"I never meant to die, I just..."
Before I could finish my words, Simon suddenly leaned down and kissed me harshly.
His kiss was brutal, carrying a tone of punishment; his teeth even tore my lips.
I struggled desperately, but he was too strong—I couldn't break free.
The scent of alcohol mingled with his own smell, making me feel sick.
At that moment, Simon's phone rang.
He paused in surprise, let me go, and glanced at his phone.
The moment he saw the caller ID, his expression changed instantly, softening into tenderness.
He answered the phone, his voice so gentle it could drip with warmth: "Wendy, what's wrong?"
Hearing something on the other end, Simon Yates frowned: "Don't be afraid, it's just thunder. I'll be home with you soon."
"Stay put and wait for me to come back."
After hanging up, Simon Yates didn't even glance at me and turned away.
His change was so sudden—one moment he was full of anger and harshness toward me, and the next he was as gentle as water with Wendy Klein.
I watched his retreating figure, my heart sinking into despair and agony.
The pain in my stomach intensified, and a sickly-sweet taste welled up in my throat.
I spat it out in one breath—another mouthful of blood.
Darkness closed in before my eyes; I could no longer hold on and fainted.
In the final moment before losing consciousness, it felt as if I had returned to my childhood.
Back then, Simon Yates and I were inseparable childhood sweethearts.
We played together in the yard, fished by the river, and shared the same ice cream.
Back then, his eyes were full of tenderness, and he treated me so, so well.
But now, everything has changed.
He's turned into a cold, ruthless man, treating me like an enemy.
How did it come to this?
I don't understand.
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