My Release, Your Countdown

The cold iron gate creaked heavily behind me; ten years seemed sealed away in that sound. My name is Ginny Truman, and today is the day I walk free. Ten years ago, I should have been dressed in a pristine wedding gown, becoming Zane Williams's bride. But on the very day of the wedding, the police suddenly burst into the hall and arrested me on charges of embezzling 300 million dollars from the company. The evidence was undeniable—the signature was mine, the transfer records pointed to me, and even my most trusted fiancé, Zane Williams, testified against me in court, accusing me of being "too greedy." Ten years behind bars—I went from hysterical denial to numb endurance. Life in prison was unbearable. The envy stirred by my status as a "rich heiress" and the contempt for my "economic crimes" manifested as relentless beatings, filthy bowls of food, and endless humiliation through countless nights. I thought it was all just the cruelty of fate, a terrible misunderstanding. Until the night before my release, when I went to the duty room to collect my release certificate, I accidentally overheard a conversation from the next room. It was Zane's voice. "She'll be out tomorrow. Everything is going according to plan." "Mr. Williams, rest assured, the reporters and those victims' families have been arranged. We'll make sure she has a 'glorious' release." The speaker was his lawyer, Justin. "It's been ten years, Justin. Do you think she'll still be as foolish as she was back then, believing I still love her?" Zane chuckled softly. "Most likely, since you acted so convincingly back then." Justin nodded, "But Mr. Williams, was it really worth orchestrating such a massive scheme to send Miss Truman to prison for ten years, all for Amelia?" Amelia Sullivan. That name thundered through my mind like an explosion. She was Zane's secretary, and at the trial, aside from Zane himself, the only witness who had "personally seen" me embezzling funds. Zane's voice suddenly turned cold. "Back then, Ginny relied on her status as the heir of the Truman family to target Amelia at every turn, causing her immense suffering. These ten years are the just punishment she deserves." "If it hadn't been to secure the Truman family's fortune, I would never have gotten engaged to her back then." I couldn't make out the rest of what was said. My ears buzzed, and it felt as if all the blood in my body froze and then boiled over in an instant. So it wasn't a misunderstanding, nor was it cruel fate. It was a premeditated frame-up, a scheme of revenge for another woman. The ten years I spent behind bars, all the abuse and humiliation I endured, were nothing more than stepping stones in their love story, clearing the way for their union. I bit down hard on my lip; at that very moment, the seed of hatred broke through the soil of my heart in its most vicious form. The next day, I changed into the old clothes I had prepared in advance—worn and faded—and walked out through the prison main gate. At the entrance, a black supercar sat conspicuously, impossible to miss. Zane, dressed in a perfectly tailored suit, stood beside the car, his gaze gentle and soft, as if there had never been any betrayal or pain between us. "Ginny, I've come to pick you up." He quickened his steps and reached out, trying to take my hand. I instinctively took a step back, avoiding his touch. His hand froze in midair, a flash of surprise in his eyes, soon replaced by tenderness: "I know you've suffered a lot over these ten years. It's my fault for not finding the proof of your innocence sooner." Keep pretending, keep acting. I sneered inwardly, but deliberately wore a look of being overwhelmed and wronged: "Zane, you... you're still willing to come pick me up?" "My stupid, how could I not come?" Zane sighed, his voice filled with pity. "No matter what happens, I will never give up on you. Get in the car; I'll take you home." I lowered my head, concealing the hatred in my eyes, and softly replied, "Okay."