In the dimly lit room, the air hung thick with an unsettling calm. Once filled with warmth and elegance, the space now felt subdued, weighed down by the steady beeps and quiet whirs of life-sustaining machines. The soft light from the ornate sconces cast long shadows across the room, where time seemed to stand still.

At the center, a grand four-poster bed made of dark mahogany cradled Scarlett Jerkins Marlow's fragile form. Her pale skin, almost translucent against the stark white linens, highlighted her delicate state. Loose curls of honey-blonde hair framed her heart-shaped face, which lay slack in unconsciousness, untouched by any sign of life. Her slender body was tethered to a web of tubes and wires, each one feeding vital fluids or tracking her fading heartbeat.

A clear oxygen mask covered her nose and mouth, fogging faintly with each shallow breath she took. Nearby, machines hummed softly, their screens displaying a rhythmic dance of her heart rate, blood pressure, and oxygen levels. The silence was punctuated only by their occasional soft beeps, a reminder of her lingering grasp on life.

Six months. It had been six months after the terrible car accident she had, six months since Scarlett Jerkins had fallen into this state and now the room had become a prison of waiting.

From the corner, a voice broke the stillness, a voice Scarlett recognized. Her mother-in-law's cold tone sliced through the air.

"Just stop the treatment. There's no point wasting more money," she said, her voice devoid of emotion. "She's been like this for months with no sign of waking. Let her go."

A second voice chimed in, sharp and cruel. It was her husband's stepsister. "Exactly, doctor. End this now. She's a burden, nothing more. You're our family doctor, so just do it. There'll be a reward in it for you."

Don't do it, doctor! Scarlett screamed in her mind, her heart racing. She tried to move, but her body refused to obey. She could hear them, but they couldn't hear her. Her mother-in-law and sister-in-law had always been ruthless, but she never realized just how cruel they truly were until now.

The doctor's voice, however, remained measured. "But Mrs. Marlow," he began, "she's in a vegetative state. There's still a chance she might wake up. We should give her a few more months."

"How does her waking up benefit me?" Mrs. Marlow snapped, glaring at the doctor. "I've allowed this treatment to continue only because of my husband's insistence. But now that he's no longer interfering, I can do as I please." She reached into her purse and pulled out a check, sliding it toward the doctor. His eyes widened in shock when he saw the figure.

Scarlett's heart sank at the mention of her father-in-law. What happened to him? She wondered. Did these wicked people do something to him too? He was the only one in the family who had truly loved and accepted her.

"Ten million dollars!" the doctor gasped, unable to contain his excitement.

Mrs. Marlow gave a cold smile. "Yes. It's all yours. I sold off a few properties, and you can have this for your troubles." She turned her venomous gaze to Scarlett. "This useless woman couldn't even bear a child. She doesn't have a womb, pure bad luck. But at least she worked her whole life for us. Now, we can enjoy her money while she joins my son in the afterlife."

What? My husband is dead? Scarlett's mind reeled. No, it can't be! She refused to believe the words, convinced she must be hallucinating from the pain. Desperately, she tried to move and for the first time in months, she managed to lift a finger. But no one noticed.

Her step-sister-in-law's voice dripped with smugness as she spoke again. "Once she's gone, her property will pass to her husband. And since he's dead, it goes to his heir, the baby I'm carrying." She patted her stomach with a grin. "Soon, doctor, there will be even more money coming your way."

Scarlett's world crumbled. A baby? She's carrying my husband's child? Her heart ached with disbelief and betrayal. They've been together behind my back this whole time. She had been blind, so absorbed in her work and earnings that she had overlooked everything. She never cared for her husband's wealth only that someone had finally loved her, despite her inability to bear children hence she trusted him. But it had all been a lie.

"Just turn off the machine, doctor," Mrs. Marlow said, her voice filled with hatred. "Let's get this over with. We can bury her and be done. Then everything will be settled."

Scarlett's soul screamed. Please don't do it, doctor! I'm still here! Tears pricked her eyes and slowly rolled down her cheeks, unnoticed.

The doctor, still mesmerized by the check, finally spoke. "I could work all my life and never see this kind of money," he murmured, his tone filled with awe. Then he looked at Mrs. Marlow and nodded. "It's done."

As he turned to remove the oxygen mask, he paused, noticing the tears streaming down Scarlett's face. His eyes widened in shock. "She's…she's awake!" he gasped, backing away.

"What?" her step-sister-in-law spat, her voice shrill with disbelief. "That bitch!"

"End it now!" Mrs. Marlow barked, her face twisted with fury. "She should follow my son into the grave. Do it!"

Before Scarlett could gather enough strength to speak, the doctor yanked the oxygen tube from her nose. She gasped for breath, her body wracked with pain as her lungs burned for air.

Her eyes fluttered open, locking onto the doctor's horrified expression. She tried to speak, her voice no more than a rasp. "Please…don't…"

Panic flashed across the doctor's face, and he moved to reattach the oxygen mask, but Mrs. Marlow's hand shot out, gripping his arm with iron strength. "Let her die," she hissed, her eyes glinting with malice. "Let her go."

Scarlett's vision blurred, her body growing heavier with each labored breath. As the world around her faded, her last sight was of her mother-in-law and the woman who had betrayed her with her own husband. Hatred and despair filled her heart as her eyelids fluttered shut, and the suffocating darkness swallowed her whole.

---

Crack... Crack... Crack...

The night was alive with a thunderstorm, heavy rain beating down on the earth like war drums. In the cemetery, a group of mourners dressed in black stood with umbrellas held high, their faces solemn as they watched a coffin being lowered into the ground.

Mrs. Marlow and her daughter stood side by side, sobbing loudly as Scarlett's body was buried. But behind their tears, their hearts swelled with something far darker, joy and satisfaction. They wept openly, yet inside, they celebrated.

Scarlett's coworkers had also come to pay their respects, their eyes red and puffy from tears. They threw flowers onto the fresh grave, one by one, offering their final goodbyes to a colleague they believed had no family.

Even Scarlett's boss, a young billionaire, age 25, with dark, messy brown hair, piercing green eyes, and olive-toned skin stood somber as he watched the dirt pile higher over the coffin. Attendance was high, despite it being a workday; no one had wanted to miss her funeral.

As the last shovelful of dirt covered the casket, the crowd began to thin. People whispered condolences and made their way back to their cars, disappearing into the rain-soaked night. Mrs. Marlow and her daughter lingered until the final mourner was out of sight. Then, in a hushed moment, they exchanged a glance, one filled not with grief, but with silent triumph.

"Let's get out of here," Mrs. Marlow whispered, her voice barely audible over the pounding rain. "Time to live our best lives!"

Her daughter nodded silently, her face beaming with happiness, and together they turned away from the grave. Their footsteps were quick, their hearts light as they walked away, leaving the freshly covered grave behind them.