1. The second day I owned the new car, the brakes failed. I was thrown from the wreckage, bleeding out on the side of the road. When my wife, Lorna, arrived, her first move wasn't to help me. It was to retrieve the dashcam, ignoring my desperate cries for help. I was rushed to the hospital and fought for my life for days, with doctors repeatedly telling my family I might not make it. But she never showed up. The day I was diagnosed with permanent nerve damage, condemned to a lifetime of medication and a wheelchair, Lorna’s old flame, Julian, was accepting an award. His award-winning paper was on an improved braking technology. And I was his test subject. The hospital called Lorna to inform her of my condition. Her only reply was, "Tell him to stop with the drama. Julian’s experiment was designed to be safe. The worst he could have is a few scratches!" ... After years of marriage, my wife, Lorna, gave me my first truly expensive gift—a state-of-the-art concept car. The very next day, the brakes gave out on a sharp mountain curve. No matter what I did, I couldn't stop it from hurtling forward. To avoid hitting anyone else, I had no choice but to wrench the wheel and aim for the mountainside. In the final second before impact, Lorna’s call came through. As I answered, I managed to choke out a final, tragic goodbye. "Where are you?" she demanded, her voice urgent. At that moment, a wave of relief washed over me. I thought she was worried about me. I would later learn how wrong I was. I told her my location. The moment the last word left my lips, the car slammed into the mountain. I was thrown clear. Luckily, I landed in a thicket of bushes that cushioned the impact, saving me from a direct collision with the rock face. But I heard the sickening crunch of my own body breaking apart. Blood poured from a gash on my head, blurring my vision. I couldn't see what was happening, but I sensed a car pull up on the deserted road. I cried for help, my voice a weak whisper. Then, through the haze of blood and pain, I saw a familiar figure. It was my wife, Lorna. But she got out of her car and walked straight toward my smoking wreck. I thought she was coming to save me. I worried for her safety, frantically trying to throw small stones to warn her away, afraid the car would explode. Instead, she pried the door open with a tool and climbed inside. At that moment, tears and blood streamed down my face. Seeing her risk her life, I thought it was all for me. But after she pulled out the dashcam, she walked over and glanced down at me. Her eyes were cold, devoid of any warmth. "Lorna! Help me... please, help me..." Her voice was as cold as her gaze. "Julian is waiting for the data from this brake test. I don't have time for this. You're not going to die. Just hang on." Then she got in her car and drove away. On that remote mountain road, it was a full thirty minutes before someone else found me. By the time I reached the hospital, I had suffered from severe blood loss to my brain. My body was a roadmap of fractures and shattered bones. The doctors were shouting, asking for my next of kin. "Family! We need to notify his family immediately! His condition is critical. He might not... he might not make it." A young nurse frantically searched my pockets for a way to contact someone. She used my fingerprint to unlock my phone and found the number pinned to the top of my contacts. She dialed. That familiar voice answered. Less than thirty seconds later, she cut the nurse off. "Are you kidding me? I told you I'm busy. Go home from the hospital when you're done. Stop bothering me." The line went dead. Everyone looked at each other in disbelief. The nurse tried calling again, but this time, the call was immediately rejected. I don't know how they handled it in the end. All I know is that as they wheeled me into the operating room, I still hadn't seen my wife, Lorna. 2. "This patient is such a tragedy. He's been here for days, nearly died a few times, and not a single person from his family has shown up." "The hospital is even covering his medical bills for now." "So sad. They say he might be paralyzed. The nerve damage is severe." The nurses chattered softly as they changed my dressings. My body was a cage of steel pins holding my shattered bones in place. I couldn't move. I could smell the faint, unpleasant odor my own body was beginning to emit. The young nurse kindly changed my disposable brief. I tried to nod, to thank her, but no words would come out. "Don't talk," she said quickly. "You'll pull at your stitches. And don't be embarrassed. We take care of everyone in the ICU. All I want is to see you walk out of here healthy one day." She gave me a warm smile and left. It was visiting hours in the ICU. Families filed in quietly. Nearly every patient had someone by their side. Except for me. I heard the head nurse talking to one of the others in the distance. "His parents are gone, right? Just a wife. It's been days, and we can't even get ahold of her. When we finally did, she just hung up." I was past the point of tears. My entire body was a symphony of pain. Just then, my test results came back. The doctor approached, her face grim. "Mr. Hayes, I have some bad news for you." My eyes were fixed on her. I think I already knew, but I couldn't bring myself to believe it. When she confirmed it—that due to the extensive nerve damage, there was an eighty percent chance I would never walk again, that I would need a lifetime of medication and a wheelchair—I broke. "We need to call your wife," the doctor insisted. "This is serious." She used her own phone to dial Lorna's number. When the call connected, it wasn't Lorna's voice that answered. "Is that you, brother-in-law?" It was Julian. "I won my award today! Lorna's throwing a party for me. She drank a little too much, so she's staying at my place tonight. Don't bother calling again. She said you're really annoying." He chuckled. "Good night, brother-in-law. Try not to die of anger, okay?" The moment he hung up, the head nurse started cursing under her breath. I tried to move my fingers, to show them there was someone else they could call. When I finally managed to knock a pill bottle off my bedside table, they noticed. They handed me my phone. With tremendous effort, I swiped through my contacts and found the number. As the head nurse dialed, my body trembled uncontrollably. I didn't know if she would answer, or if she even remembered me. "Hello?" A voice. The head nurse quickly explained the situation. The person on the other end was instantly alarmed. "Thank you for letting me know. I'm booking the next flight. I'll try to be there by dawn." When the call ended, a small measure of peace settled in my heart. The head nurse and the younger nurse waited with me through the night. Hours passed. No one came. Just as I began to think I'd been abandoned again, a figure rushed into the ward, wind-blown and weary. "Hello! I'm Beth Hayes, Blake's sister. How is he?" The head nurse looked at her face, which was so strikingly similar to mine, and said quickly, "Not good. He's right in here. We'll take you." The moment my sister saw me, her eyes turned red. It had been twenty years. After our parents divorced, I hadn't seen her once. We had even held separate funerals when they passed. The first time she had called me was on my wedding day. She had sent a lavish wedding gift but hadn't come to the ceremony. I thought she didn't want me as a brother. I never imagined that when I was broken and dying, she would drop everything and fly across the country to be by my side. 3. "Where is his wife?" When Beth asked, the room fell silent. Finally, the head nurse spoke, her voice laced with anger. "We contacted her. She refused to come. Said the patient was lying..." My sister said nothing, but the way her hands clenched into fists and her body trembled told me everything I needed to know about her rage. That night, she signed a stack of consent forms and liability waivers. She watched through a glass window as I was resuscitated time and time again, helpless. The last time I was wheeled out of the operating room, she just stared at me for a long, long time. "It's okay," she whispered. "I have money. I'll get you the best care, Blake. I promise." My sister worked tirelessly, contacting the best doctors, arranging for specialists, even preparing to sell her own house to pay for my treatment. That night, I suffered from multiple organ failure. The entire department scrambled for an emergency surgery that lasted twelve hours. As I was being wheeled out, I saw my wife for the first time. Lorna was arm-in-arm with Julian. They walked right past me. Julian even glanced over. "He looks like he's about to die. Are they still trying to save him?" Lorna pulled him away, covering his eyes. "Don't look at such unpleasant things. It's bad luck. The important thing now is to get the injury data from Blake to perfect your report." "You're the best, Lorna! If you hadn't volunteered your husband to be my test subject, I never would have finished my doctorate." Data test? As I was being moved to the ICU, Lorna was at the nurses' station, asking for my room. "I'm looking for a patient from a car accident. Name's Blake Hayes. His injuries shouldn't be serious. Which room is he in?" The nurse gave her a long look. "And you are?" "I'm his wife." As the words left her mouth, the nurse pointed at me, fresh out of a twelve-hour surgery. "That's him... the one who just came out of the OR. That's your husband." "What!" She stared in disbelief. The truth was right in front of her, but Julian just wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "Wow, brother-in-law is really committed to the act, huh?" Lorna, though visibly shaken, grabbed Julian and hurried away, once again leaving without seeing me. Thanks to my sister's persistence, my condition slowly improved. The day I was moved out of the ICU, I could already sit up in bed. The specialists she'd hired were truly miracle workers. I smiled, trying to praise them. My phone, however, wouldn't stop buzzing. When I opened it, my feed was flooded with news of Julian winning his award for the "bottom-line brake test." He was being lauded by the media as a hero who had advanced automotive safety. In one interview, a reporter asked, "This kind of large-scale test requires a human test subject. In the past, it was usually the researcher themselves, or a family member, or a close friend who would make a great sacrifice. The relationship between the researcher and the test subject is often very close. Mr. Singer, could you tell us about your test subject...?" Julian looked out into the audience, his eyes landing on Lorna. "My test subject," he said with a charming smile, "loves me very much." The crowd erupted in applause. Today was Julian's award ceremony. A grand affair, held at the city's central performance hall. I looked at the time. I opened the cloud backup of my dashcam footage on my phone. And I dialed 911. "Hello," I said, my voice steady. "I'd like to report a suspected case of attempted murder, involving a Mr. Julian Singer and a Ms. Lorna Hayes."
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