Chapter 5

She placed a set of weighted metal utensils and a grip-assist writing tool on the bedside table.

Her expression had softened considerably, her tone carrying a hint of regret.

"Look at you. Why suffer like this just to be stubborn?"

As she spoke, she picked up the grip tool, trying to fit it on my hand.

"If you just behave, I'll take good care of you from now on."

I jerked my hand back, my stomach churning. Just seeing her filled me with physical disgust.

"Get that away!"

Polka's patience seemed exhausted by my rejection. She angrily slammed the items on the table.

"Benjamin, I'm kindly finding rehabilitation tools for you. Can you stop being so ungrateful?!"

I closed my eyes, forcing myself to calm down. When I spoke again, my voice was emotionless.

"Polka, let's make a deal. I'm willing to sign a lifetime non-compete agreement and transfer all remaining assets of my company to you or Maurice.

I have only one requirement. Let me go."

I was negotiating my freedom as if it were my final business transaction.

Polka seemed stunned by this, apparently not expecting me to propose such a "deal." After a long moment, she shook her head.

"Benjamin, this isn't just to reassure him. It's because you owe Maurice."

"I owe him? What do I owe him?!"

I asked in confusion. The corner of Polka's mouth curled into mockery. She said I must have forgotten such important matters.

She told me that years ago, my first bucket of gold, the business model that changed my fate, was a proposal Maurice had stayed up countless nights creating.

It was I who used improper means to steal it, which led to my later meteoric rise.

"So your current state is just things returning to their rightful owner! Stop acting innocent. You almost fooled me again!"

I paused slightly, then recalled those events, a trace of desolate smile appearing on my face.

I finally understood where their bone-deep hatred came from.

In their eyes, I'd been a thief from the very beginning.

That business opportunity back then was indeed public information. I was just faster and more daring than him.

But explaining now was meaningless. For a crippled man, all merit and fault lost the value of defense.

Seeing I no longer argued, Polka let out a cold laugh.

"So Benjamin, you have no right to complain! All of this is your karma!"

I fell completely silent. Polka also lost interest in conversing with me and turned to leave the room.

I stared blankly at her retreating figure. After a long time, I buried my face in my palms without making a sound.

My life afterward became daily "rehabilitation" training.

Different therapists came every day to guide me on using those assistive tools.

To maintain her image as a "devoted wife," Polka provided me with the very best of everything.

I also appeared numb and compliant, just speaking less and less.

Over half a month later, they finally relaxed their guard over me.

I bribed a young worker from the laundry room with a stock tip guaranteed to rise.

At four in the morning, I endured the aching pain in both hands and hid in a huge linen cart, leaving that prison in the bumpy ride.

Finally, at the bus stop across the street, I looked back at the lit building, my eyes calm as still water.

Since you all want me to disappear, I'll grant your wish.

At that moment, Maurice was at a grand celebration banquet, raising his glass high, announcing to all the guests that he'd completely defeated me.

Polka stood beside him, her smile radiant.

"For you, I'd do anything."

She gazed at Maurice's profile, her eyes full of infatuation.

"I know. Now we can finally be together."

Maurice responded gently, about to clink glasses with her when a shrill phone ringtone broke the intimate atmosphere.

Polka impatiently pulled out her phone. Seeing the caller ID, her brow immediately furrowed.

The sanatorium? What could it be? Benjamin?

Thinking of him, Polka still pressed the answer button: "Hello?"

"Miss Polka, this is terrible! Mr. Benjamin is gone!"