He Locked Me Away and Stole My Son

To cure my so-called obsession, Ryan had me committed to a mental institution. He thought it would teach me a lesson.

No matter how he treated me, I always pretended it was fine and clung to him like a lost puppy—something that clearly disgusted him.

On the wooden headboard of my bed, I carved a mark for every time he hurt me.

I used to joke, "Ryan, when I reach a hundred marks, I'm leaving you for good."

He never took me seriously.

But after I got out of that hellhole, I carved the hundredth line.

Everyone expected me to go back to clinging to him like before.

But this time… I'm really leaving.

Because Ryan's grandmother missed me, he sent someone to pick me up.

When the butler arrived, a couple of inmates were trying to force a scorpion into my mouth.

"Stop it, right now!"

The butler shoved them aside, but when he saw me, I was a ghost of my former self—sallow, gaunt, and hollow.

His eyes filled with tears instantly.

"Mrs. Carter, you've suffered so much… Ryan sent me to bring you home."

I just nodded, numb.

Ryan. My husband.

Three years ago, he dumped me in that place.

Night after night, as they tortured me, I prayed he would come save me.

But what did I get?

This kind of torment was just daily life for the last three years.

Those patients tormented me relentlessly. They stripped me, burned my hands in boiling water, let venomous insects bite me—and they thought it was hilarious.

From the moment Ryan coldly abandoned me there, I lived in constant fear.

Three years is enough to break anyone, to turn a living person into a walking corpse.

Before I left, I took a shower. When the hot water hit my skin, I flinched instinctively. Realizing what I'd done, I broke down, sobbing into my hands.

The director walked me out with a fake smile, but the sight of him made my stomach turn.

He allowed—even encouraged—the inmates to torment me, claiming it was Ryan's idea.

He even forced his way into my room more than once, assaulting me, saying Ryan had given him permission.

Ryan… the man I loved with all my heart for seven years.

I never imagined he could hate me so much—enough to want me tortured to death.

Huddled in the car, I wrapped my arms tightly around myself, trembling uncontrollably.

The driver kept glancing at me in the rearview mirror. He'd worked for Ryan for years, but he never knew they'd put me through something like this.

As evening fell, the car pulled up to the Carter estate.

The place was eerily quiet.