Her Agony, Their Award

They called it a psychological experiment. To my husband, Connor, I wasn’t a wife; I was a data point. To his lover, Riley, I was a disposable subject for her twisted research. They watched me get doxxed, mocked, and eventually crushed under the wheels of a truck, all while measuring my heart rate for their next award. They thought they’d paralyzed more than just my legs—they thought they’d broken my will. But the thing about stress tests is that eventually, the subject snaps back. I’m out of the hospital, I’m off the meds they used to sedate me, and I’m ready to show the world exactly what happens when the lab rat decides to end the experiment.