His Lawyer Framed Her Insane,Now the Colonel She Married Will Burn Their Empire Down

Grandpa was beaten in a violent forced demolition. He suffered a sudden heart attack and needed emergency surgery.

But my husband, Charles, handed me a settlement agreement instead.

Abigail, as soon as you drop the lawsuit, I'll have the doctors save your grandfather.

My fingers trembled, but I signed my name.

In the end, we still missed the critical window. Grandpa became a vegetable.

When the news came, I couldn't hold on any longer. I collapsed.

Through the haze of unconsciousness, I heard Charles talking to his secretary.

"Grandpa won't wake up. I'll arrange for someone to care for him for the rest of his life."

"But Freya can't suffer. Five years ago, when I was dying, she tested experimental drugs for me. She donated her kidney. I promised I would protect her forever."

I looked down at the scar on my abdomen. My eyes burned red.

He didn't know.

In the safe at the family home, hidden at the very bottom, there was an anonymous donation agreement.

The one who tested those drugs for him. The one who gave him a kidney.

It was always me.

I picked up the service medal Grandpa had treasured all his life.

This time, I would get him justice.

This love that had only ever hurt me.

I didn't want it anymore.

1.

"Get everyone who knows anything. As long as they agree to keep quiet, give them whatever they want. Whatever it costs."

Morgan Pierce drew a sharp breath. "Mr. Charles, Freya caused injuries during an illegal demolition. She's the one at fault. Are you really going to break the law to protect her?"

"Because of your favoritism, her grandfather is now in a vegetative state. When Mrs. Charles wakes up, she may never forgive you."

Charles's expression turned cold. His voice dropped to ice.

"Even if her grandfather never wakes upeven if he diesI will always protect Freya."

"Acquiring that land has been her dream. How could I let something this trivial derail her career?"

"Besides, Abigail already signed. I won't let her go back on her word."

His words hit me like a gust of frozen wind, the chill sinking into my bones, dragging me into a despair I couldn't name.

Morgan hesitated, then tried again carefully. "But Mrs. Charles loves her grandfather more than anything. She won't give up easily"

"Enough."

Charles cut him off impatiently. "I already promised Freya. No one will hurt her."

He answered his phone, lowering his voice deliberately.

"Good. Bring it in."

A knock. Footsteps approached. A doctor entered the room.

"Mr. Charles, this is the hallucinogenic drug that Ms. Freya imported from overseas."

Morgan's face twisted with reluctance. A flicker of somethingpity, perhapscrossed his eyes.

"These drugs are extremely dangerous. Don't you think this is too cruel to Mrs. Charles...?"

Charles walked to my bedside. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to my foreheadgentle, almost tender.

"Five years ago, I was dying. I cried every day. Even the doctors had given up."

"It was Freya who tested drug after drug for me. She even donated her own kidney. She pulled me back from the edge of death."

His voice wavered. He fell silent for a long moment before continuing.

"I owe her everything. I can never repay her."

"How could I possibly stand by and watch her get hurt?"

Tears spilled from my eyes before I could stop them. My heart felt crushed in an invisible fist.

The savior he couldn't stop talking about.

It was me.

In college, I fell for him at first sight. The day I finally gathered the courage to confess, he vanished.

That unspoken love story ended before it began.

When we met again, I learned he was sick.

I was the one who tested those drugs on my own body, over and over. I was the one who anonymously donated my kidney. I was the one who dragged him back from death's door.

I hinted at the truth so many times. Every time, he brushed it off with that gentle smile.

The cruel joke washe never believed me.

His voice remained soft, but it froze me to the core.

"The priority now is making sure no evidence gets out. I'll watch every detail. I won't miss a single loose thread."

"Abigail is my wife. I'll be with her forever."

Morgan looked at medrenched in cold sweat, face white as paperand his brow furrowed deeply. But under Charles's authority, he could only murmur his agreement.

"Mr. Charles, with your capabilities, no one can touch Ms. Freya."

He paused. He couldn't help himself.

"But why do you have to drug your wife"

"Enough!"

Charles cut him off coldly, his gaze sharp as a blade.

"I've already deleted all the footage from the scene, but there's no guarantee someone won't talk."

"As long as Abigail is given the drug, even if she tries to sue later, I can claim she's mentally unstable. No one questions a lawyer's word."

My consciousness kept sinking through days of haze, memories trapped in an endless dream, fragmented and scattered.

Despair crashed over me like a tidal wave. My heart seized violently, the pain spreading through every limb.

Back then, he'd severed ties with his own family just to marry me.

All that love, all that tendernesshe'd erased it with his own hands. Gone without a trace.

So the happy marriage I thought I had was nothing but an empty dream.

This cruelty disguised as love? I didn't want it anymore.

All I wanted was justice for Grandpa.

My chest heaved violently. The splitting headache forced tears down my cheeks.

"Abigail, what's wrong?"

Charles gripped my hand tightly, his eyes full of concern.

"Don't be scared. I'll stay right here with you. Once you wake up, everything will be better."

His voice was gentle, aching with tenderness. He rubbed my legs softly, trying to ease my discomfort.

But all I felt was agony tearing through my body, a bone-deep cold.

The hospital room was deathly silent, filled only with his soft, soothing murmurs.

Now, each word sounded like a death knell.

"Make sure the chicken soup stays warm. I want her to have it the moment she wakes up."

He gave Morgan another gentle instruction. "And have the yellow roses ready. I want to see the look on her face when she's surprised."

Darkness swallowed me whole. I had no strength left to fight my body's collapse, yet I could still hear his voice clearly.

Perhaps Charles had loved me once.

But Freyashe was his blatant favoritism.

The mutual affection we once shared, the model couple everyone envied.

It had all been a silent tragedy.

Dr. Caldwell approached the bed with the syringe, his voice low.

"Mr. Pierce, everything is ready. Would you like to reconsider?"

"Inject her."

I lay on the hospital bed, letting them do as they pleased, grief raging inside me like a violent storm.

I thought I'd already given up. But when his cold voice fell, it still cut through me like knives scraping bone.

I wanted to scream at him.

Charles, did you ever really love me?

But all I could manage was a silent, bitter laugh.

Now, every word he spoke was a blade, slicing my soul inch by inch.

"She may experience brief memory confusion after waking. It's perfectly normalnothing to worry about." Dr. Caldwell nodded slightly as he explained.

Charles exhaled slowly, his expression finally relaxing.

"Good."

Five years of beautiful memories flooded my mind without warning.

He had openly defied his parents just to be with me.

"Abigail is the love of my life. Even if it means cutting ties with my family, I will be with her."

He'd spent three full days setting up the proposal himself, eyes red-rimmed as he told me he'd never marry anyone else.

He said not even his parents could keep us apart.

He said his life was only complete with me in it. That he'd protect me for the rest of his days.

But his voice grew distant, fading, until it became a cold blade plunging straight into my chest.

"Forget Grandpa waking upeven if he actually dies, I will never let anyone threaten Freya."

Self-mockery, helplessness, bitter ironyemotions crashed over me all at once, and I finally lost consciousness completely.

When I opened my eyes again, I saw Charles.

He looked exactly as I rememberedclean-cut and handsome, as if nothing had changed.

"Abigail, you're finally awake. Does anything hurt?"

He wiped the corner of his eye and gave me a gentle smile.

We stared at each other in silence for a long moment before I spoke, my voice hoarse.

"Where's Grandpa? I need to see him."

His gaze shifted away, refusing to meet mine.

"You have no idea how worried I was about you. As long as you're okay, that's all that matters. Really."

I looked around the room and immediately realized this wasn't our home.

I struggled to sit up, my fingers trembling as I grabbed my clothes and threw them on haphazardly, ready to leave.

"You're always saying I never have time for you, aren't you?"

He caught my arm, his tone gentle yet brooking no argument.

"Just stay here and rest for a few days, okay? I won't let anyone disturb us."

His grip was iron-tight around my arm. I pried his fingers off and looked him straight in the eye.

"Charles, please let me see Grandpa. He raised me. It's been just the two of us my whole life."

"He means everything to me. I'm begging youjust let me see him once."

"Now isn't the right time."

His voice remained patient, measured.

"Calm down for a few days first. I'll take you to see him soon."

But this was Grandpa.

The person closest to me in this entire world.

My eyes burned with unshed tears as I lowered myself the way I always had, pleading softly.

"Please, just this once. If you're worried, come with me."

After a moment of silence, he frowned and slowly shook his head, his tone firmer than I'd ever heard it.

"Don't make a scene. When the time is right, I'll let you go see him."

In that moment, something inside me died.

No matter what reason I gave, Charles refused without wavering.

He was going to keep me here. Trapped in this invisible cage.

But my grandfather was still waiting for me.

"Abigail, didn't you always want to sketch me?"

He suddenly changed the subject, his voice softening.

"There's paper and pencils in the study. I'll go get them."

A few minutes later, he sat carefully across from me and struck a pose.

When we were dating, I used to draw his portrait almost every month.

Maybe it was because he was so handsome. Maybe it was because I loved him. Either way, my sketches of him always seemed to come alive, as if they had souls of their own.

"Why haven't you started?"

His voice pulled me back from my memories.

I forced myself to focus.

By the time I finished, I was drenched in sweat.

He studied the portrait, then looked at me, his eyes crinkling with warmth as he leaned in to kiss my cheek.

The phone on the nightstand suddenly buzzed.

I glanced over. It was Freya.

He got up and stepped outside to answer.

"Alright, I'll be there soon. But I only have two hoursI need to get back to Abigail."

Once he was sure I was asleep, he slipped out quietly and closed the door behind him.

The sound of the car engine faded into the distance before I finally struggled to sit up.

After getting dressed, I went straight to the study.

I searched every corner meticulously. Any chance to gather evidence against FreyaI wasn't going to let it slip away.

Finally, beneath the safe, I found the USB flash drive from that day.

My fingers trembled as I plugged it into the computer. The footage loaded bit by bit.

A few seconds of video stretched into an eternity.

On the screen, Grandpa stood guard by the machineryand was brutally beaten.

Tears streamed down my face.

I hid the evidence inside my clothes and hurried out.

The truth deserved to see the light.

But the moment I stepped through the front door, I ran straight into Charles and Freya.

"Where do you think you're going this late?"

He frowned and walked toward me, his gaze sweeping over me with cold indifference.

"Still haven't given up? You're all alone. What could you possibly do to fight me?"

My voice was steady.

"As long as there's even a sliver of a chance, I won't give up. I will make you pay for what you've done."

He let out a derisive laugh, as if watching a comedy unfold.

"Should I call you naive, or just plain stupid? Empty words. Who's going to believe you?"

A servant noticed something was wrong and came running over, shouting in a panic.

"She went into the studyshe was in there for a long time! Stop her!"

His gaze turned ice-cold at those words, boring into me.

"I underestimated you. Hand it over. Otherwise, I can't guarantee what might happen."

But Charles reached out and took my hand, his voice still gentle.

"Abigail, just give him the USB drive. Stop being so stubborn."

"That was my grandfather."

My voice came out raw, torn.

"I'm not giving it to you. No matter where I have to go, I'm going to tell the truth."

Freya's eyes went wide with rage, the whites shot through with red.

Without a moment's hesitation, she yanked open the car door, threw herself into the driver's seat, and floored the acceleratoraiming straight at me.

"You want to go against me? Then die!"

I was certain it was over. I closed my eyes.

My only thought was guilt. I'm sorry, Grandpa.

But the impact never came.

It was Charles.

He had stepped in front of me.

"Abigail, stop wasting time."

He looked at me with raised brows, his tone cold and brooking no argument.

"Give it to me."

"Just hand it over, and no one will make things difficult for you. You'll even get to see Grandpa."

No.

If I gave it to him, I'd never be able to face Grandpa again.

"Why are you even bothering to talk to her? If she won't hand it over, I have ways of getting it back."

Freya strode up to me, wound back her arm, and drove her fist into my stomach.

Fury surged through me. I raised my hand and slapped her across the face.

"You dare hit me?"

She touched her stinging cheek, her eyes turning vicious.

"Today, I'll show you exactly what I'm capable of."

Her fists rained downon my head, my stomach.

Waves of pain crashed over me, sharp as needles. I had no way to fight back. All I could do was curl into myself and endure the blows.

Charles finally pulled her off me, his voice sharp.

"Enough! Stop it. I'm taking Abigail home. If you keep this up, something serious is going to happen."

"For your sake, I'll spare her life."

Freya let out a cold laugh.

"But if I catch her pulling something like this again, I won't be so forgiving."

I watched, helpless, as Charles took the evidence from me.

In that moment, every last shred of hope shattered.

I was like a hollow shell as he helped me back to the room.

"Does it hurt?"

His tone carried a note of reproach.

"You're so stubborn. Let me put some ointment on that."

The concern in his eyes didn't look fake.

He carefully lifted my shirt and applied the medicine with gentle hands.

A few days ago, I never would have believed he could hurt me like this for someone else.

But the reality was right in front of me.

The one who loved meit was him.

The one who hurt mealso him.

Maybe, if I just told him the truth, things wouldn't have to end this way.

Clinging to that last desperate hope, I looked steadily at Charles.

"Do you know? Five years ago, I was actually the one who"

The phone on the dresser buzzed relentlessly.

He picked it up, glanced at it for a moment, and that warm smile spread across his face again.

"Hmm? What were you saying?"

"I was the one who saved"

Before I could finish, he cut me off.

"I need to go to the study. Something urgent came up."

His tone was casual.

"I'll come back to keep you company later. You can tell me then, okay?"

He leaned down and kissed me, just like always. His smile was gentle.

But his attention never left his phone. Not once did he spare me a glance.

Forget it.

Charles, you and I were never meant to be.

Two hours later, he fell into a deep sleep in my arms.

I slipped out of bed carefully and left the room.

The house was silent, the night deep. This was my best chance to escape.

Even without evidence, I had to go to the police.

I couldn't let Grandpa suffer for nothing. I couldn't let the people who hurt him walk free.

The night air bit cold against my skin as I rushed to the nearest police station to file a report.

After I finished giving my statement, Charles appeared.

He draped a coat over my shoulders.

"I'm so sorry about this."

He offered the officers an apologetic smile.

"My wife hasn't been well. She's been under a lot of stress lately, and her mental state has become... unstable. I apologize for the trouble."

He sighed, the picture of a weary, concerned husband.

"It's so late. I took my eyes off her for one moment, and she slipped out."

The officers exchanged glances, their gazes shifting between us.

I fought back immediately, my voice rising.

"He's lying! My grandfather is still in the hospitalgo see for yourselves!"

"He's in on it too. Don't believe a word he says. I'm telling the truth. Freya forced the demolition and had people beaten!"

"I'm an attorney."

Charles produced his credentials, unhurried, unruffled.

"I trust you'll take my professional integrity into account."

The officers examined his ID carefully, then handed it back.

"Take your wife home. Keep a closer eye on her. Make sure she doesn't wander off again."

No matter how I tried to explain, no one believed me.

Charles brought me back to the house.

This homebuilt in the name of lovehad become my prison.

I opened an app, logged into my account, and posted everything online.

If people paid attention, maybe Grandpa still had a chance.

But in the end, Charles crushed it all with a single documenta diagnosis from a doctor.

It stated, in clinical black and white, that I suffered from a psychiatric disorder.

No one doubts an attorney's word.

Every path was sealed shut.

I argued. I screamed. I even dropped to my knees and begged him to let me leave.

His eyes blazed with cold fury, indifferent and impatient.

"Have I been too lenient with you?"

"If you say one more word of this nonsense, I'll have the hospital stop your grandfather's treatment immediately."

My heart turned to ash. I didn't dare speak another word.

All I could do was tread carefully around him, terrified that one wrong move would push him to abandon Grandpa entirely.

But the call from the hospital came anyway.

It was a critical condition notice.

I nearly shattered. I rushed to the study to find him.

"Charles, Grandpahe's dying. The hospital just called"

My hands trembled as I held the phone out to him, my voice barely a whisper.

"This number doesn't lie. Please, just look at it. Please."

"Stop nagging."

His face twisted with irritation.

"You're really getting on my nerves."

He grabbed the phone and hurled it to the ground. The screen exploded into fragments.

My eyes burned red. Tears slid down my cheeks in silence.

Charles didn't even glance at me. He turned and walked away.

I raced to the hospital as fast as I could.

But I was still too late to see Grandpa one last time.

In the cold morgue, his frail body lay still.

The bruises from the beating were still visible on his skinbut he was no longer breathing.

I finally broke. I held him and sobbed until I couldn't breathe.

Forcing down the agony that threatened to tear me apart, I made my way back to the old family home.

The moment I stepped out of the car, I saw it.

Half the house had been demolished.

But the old safethe one that had been there for decadeswas still intact.

I entered his birthday as the combination and retrieved Grandpa's service medal, cradling it against my chest.

At the very bottom lay a documentan anonymous donation agreement from five years ago.

I glanced at it briefly, then left it where it was.

Let it stay buried forever.

My grandfather wasn't a blind man.

He was a true hero.

Time and again, he had driven back invaders on the battlefield, defending the land beneath his feet with his very life. It was in one of those battles that he was gravely wounded and lost his sight.

Yet now, he had been mocked with malice, humiliated without restraint, and beaten like an animal.

In the end, it cost him his life.

Even his guide dog had served with distinctiona decorated service dog, retired from military duty.

They deserved better than this. So much better.

I hailed a cab to the gates of the Regional Military Command. Cradling that heavy First-Class Service Medal in my hands, I dropped to my knees.

My voice rang out, steady and clear, each word deliberate:

"On behalf of First-Class Merit Soldier Jeremy Gilbert, I demand justice."

Behind me, Charles stumbled forward, his face ashen. He clutched the anonymous documents in his fist as he rushed toward me, disbelief written across his features.

"Abigail, what is this? Come back with me right now. This isn't the place for your theatrics."

He grabbed my arm, trying to pull me to my feet.

I didn't budge. My voice only grew louder.

The medal gleamed under the sunlight, its surface catching the light like a small sun.

My expression was solemn as I recounted every indignity, every injustice my family had suffered in recent days.

My grandfather had bled for his country on the battlefield. He didn't deserve to be humiliated. He didn't deserve to be treated like a useless old man.

And Rangerthe guide dog who had been his companion for yearsdidn't deserve such a brutal end.

I was raised by my grandfather's own hand. Stubbornness and resilience were carved into my bones.

How could I possibly accept being locked away while those responsible walked free, untouched?

Charles went rigid, a panic flickering across his face that I had never seen before.

He still refused to believe what I was saying. He thought this was just another ploy to force his hand, to make him take me to see my grandfather.

"Get up and come with me before more people see this."

"I'll take you to the hospital to see your grandfather."

The drugs were still in my system. My head swam, my vision blurring at the edges. But I only lifted the medal higher.

I called out again and again until finally, a sentry on duty took notice.

He jogged over to assess the situation.

The moment his gaze fell on the First-Class Service Medal in my hands, his entire demeanor shifted. His posture straightened, his expression turning grave and respectful.

He snapped a crisp military salute.

"Please wait here. I'll report to the Commander immediately."

Before long, he returned at a brisk pace, several people following behind him. Their faces were kind, their eyes warm.

The man at the front stepped forward and placed a hand on my shoulder.

"Not bad. You've got your grandfather's spirit."

Seeing my confusion, he smiled.

"You don't remember me, but I remember you. When you were little, I used to hold you in my arms. Bought you lollipops."

He gestured to the men behind him.

"These uncles herethey all served under your grandfather."

"I'm your Uncle Duncan Mercer. Come to think of it, it's been a while since I've seen the old man. We were just saying we should pay him a visit."

His smile faltered.

"Come inside. Tell us everythingwhat happened?"

They surrounded me protectively as we walked.

Someone noticed Charles and, learning he was my husband, invited him to follow.

"No," I said. "He won't be for much longer."

The men exchanged glances but didn't press further.

Charles opened his mouth to speak. His eyes reddened. But when he saw the cold indifference in my gaze, he could only stand there, lost and alone.

As we walked, I answered their questions one by one.

When they asked about my grandfather's condition, I couldn't hold it together any longer. My knees buckled, and I collapsed to the ground.

"Please, CommanderI'm begging you to seek justice for my grandfather."

"He's gone."

All the grief I had been holding back finally shattered.

I recounted everything my grandfather and I had endured these past days, leaving nothing out.

Freya had forced through the demolition, and his men had beaten my grandfather until he suffered a heart attack. Ranger, the guide dog who'd been by his side for years, was killed on the spothis death brutal and senseless. And my husband, Charles, a lawyer by trade, had used his expertise to scrub the scene clean of evidence. He'd bribed witnesses, drugged me with medication that clouded my mind, even forged psychiatric reports to keep me locked away at home.

Bang.

Duncan slammed his palm against the desk, rising to his feet in fury.

"The audacity. Is there no law left in this country?" His voice shook with barely contained rage. "Someone dares commit such atrocities and thinks they won't pay the price? A developerinsulting a first-class national hero? This is beyond lawless."

His expression was grave, but his tone left no room for doubt.

"This matter will be addressed. I will give Captain Gilbertand youthe justice you deserve."

I steadied myself, pushing down the emotions threatening to spill over.

"There's one more thing I need to ask."

"I want a divorce. And everything that belongs to methey won't take a single cent."

"Done."

Duncan didn't hesitate.

In that moment, all the grief and injustice I'd carried finally began to lift. In its place came something I'd almost stopped believing in.

Justice. Late, but real.

Money could never buy that.

When I stepped outside, Charles was still waiting.

The moment he saw me, his eyes lit up.

"You're out. I was worried you might be"

He noticed my expression and faltered. His hands trembled as he thrust a document toward me.

"What is this? Why does it say I'm the donor?"

His face went white.

"That's not real."

"It's just someone you helped before. Someone with the same name as me. Right?"

"You've known all along, haven't you?"

My gaze was steady.

"Why keep lying to yourself?"

He stood silent for a long moment. Then his lips twisted into something that tried to be a smile but failed.

"Why didn't you tell me sooner?" His voice cracked. "The person who saved meit was you."

He reached for my arm, desperation flickering back to life in his eyes. "I'll go to the hospital with you right now. We can see your grandfather together"

"My grandfather is gone."

The words fell like stones.

"And we're getting divorced."

He froze. Completely still.

I didn't look back. I walked straight to the hospital.

My grandfather was still there.

I was bringing him home.

Following his final wishes, the funeral was held at the family home.

Fallen leaves return to their roots.

Inside the funeral hall, I knelt before him one last time.

After this, I would never see him again.

Charles hovered behind me, regret and self-reproach written plainly across his face.

But none of it mattered anymore.

Then the uninvited guests arrived.

Freya led the way, flanked by his usual crew.

"So the old blind man really is dead." He let out a cold laugh. "Perfect. I'm continuing the demolition today."

His gaze swept the room, landing on the photographmy grandfather and Ranger, side by side. His lip curled.

"Nice photo editing. Playing soldier, was he?"

He smirked. "Oh waitmy mistake. The blind man couldn't even see it."

His lackeys burst into laughter, the sound grating and obscene in the solemn space.

Mourners stepped forward to intervene, only to be shoved back, the confrontation escalating into chaos.

Freya's eyes turned vicious.

"Smash it all."

"I dare you to try."

A voice cut through like a blade.

Duncan had arrived.

Freya's raised hand never completed its arc. Before he could react, the officers accompanying Duncan moved in, restraining him in seconds.

"Do you have any idea who I am?" Freya thrashed wildly, screaming. "Let me go! You'll regret this!"

Duncan stood among the crowd, his expression cold enough to freeze.

"Contempt for the law. Organized assault. Brutalization of a first-class national hero." His voice was ice. "And even now, you have the nerve to run your mouth."

Freya kept struggling, spewing profanity, still arrogant, still without a shred of remorse.

Until one of the military officers laid everything out before him: the credentials, the medals, the divorce agreement.

The color drained from his face.

His whole body began to shake.