Chapter 3
Series 1 Chapter 3
Alexander stood in the doorway, surprise flashing across his face before he quickly replaced it with a calm, practiced expression.
He stepped into the hallway and pulled the door partly closed behind him, blocking my view of Madeline.
“Vivienne? What are you doing out of bed?”
Frustration edged his voice, though his hands moved automatically to steady my shoulders.
“The doctor told you not to put any weight on that leg.”
I stared at him, still trying to make sense of what I had overheard.
“I heard you.”
His hands went still.
“You said you would make me believe you had no choice.”
For the briefest moment, something unreadable passed over his face.
Then Madeline pushed the door open wider.
Her eyes were swollen, and fresh tears streaked her cheeks.
“It was my fault,” she said. “Alexander carried me out first, and I knew how that must have looked to you.”
I said nothing.
She gripped the edge of the doorframe.
“I was also the one who suggested taking the mountain road so we could watch the sunset. If I hadn’t asked, we never would have been up there.”
Her voice broke.
“When the SUV lost control, I thought I had gotten all three of us killed. Then Alexander saved me while you were still trapped. I was terrified you would hate me.”
Alexander looked down at me, his expression softening.
“That’s what you heard,” he said. “Madeline was convinced you’d think I chose her over you.”
“You told her you’d make me believe you had no choice.”
“Because I didn’t have one.”
The answer came smoothly.
He crouched slightly so that we were at eye level.
“You were pinned beneath the dashboard. I couldn’t move you without making your injuries worse. Madeline was conscious, untrapped, and close to the rear door. I got her out because she was the only person I could safely move.”
Everything he said sounded reasonable.
That was what frightened me most.
Madeline wiped her cheeks with a trembling hand.
“I’m so sorry, Vivienne. If I hadn’t suggested that road—”
“It was an accident,” I said quietly.
Part of me desperately wanted that to be true.
Madeline had been my closest friend for more than ten years. She had sat beside me at my parents’ funeral, stayed with me through sleepless nights, and stood next to me on my wedding day.
I wanted to recognize the woman crying in front of me.
I wanted to recognize my husband, too.
“You don’t have to blame yourself,” I told her.
Relief softened Madeline’s face.
“Thank you. You’ve always been too good to me.”
Alexander smiled as though the misunderstanding had been settled.
“See?” he said to her. “I told you Vivienne would understand.”
Before I could respond, he slipped one arm behind my back and the other beneath my knees.
“Alexander—”
He lifted me against his chest.
“Put me down.”
“You’ll tear your stitches if you try to walk back.”
His tone was firm but gentle, the same voice he had used whenever I was sick or frightened during our marriage.
He carried me down the corridor as if nothing between us had changed.
Back in my room, Alexander lowered me carefully onto the bed and pulled the blanket over my legs.
He checked my IV line, poured a glass of water, and positioned the straw near my lips.
“Drink.”
I took a small sip.
“Does your leg hurt?”
“A little.”
He adjusted my pillow, his movements familiar and precise.
This was the man who remembered how much cream I took in my coffee. The man who warmed my side of the bed during winter and always kissed my forehead before leaving for work.
Looking at him now, I wanted to believe those small acts still meant what I had always thought they meant.
“Alexander.”
“Yes?”
“When we were hanging over the cliff, why didn’t you even come back to check on me?”
His hand paused on the blanket.
“I did check on you. You were conscious, and the ambulance was already on its way.”
“You walked away.”
“I was trying to get Madeline far enough from the SUV in case it went over the edge.”
“But you stayed with her.”
“She was in shock.”
“So was I.”
The words came out smaller than I intended.
Something shifted in his expression. He took my hand and rubbed his thumb gently across my knuckles.
“I know.”
His voice dropped.
“And I’m sorry you were frightened. But if I had tried to pull you free without the right equipment, I could have damaged your leg permanently—or shifted the SUV and sent all of us over the cliff.”
He held my gaze.
“I made the only decision I could make.”
There it was again.
A perfect explanation.
Not proof that he loved me. Not even an apology for leaving me alone.
Only a reason I was supposed to accept.
“You don’t really believe I left you there on purpose, do you?” he asked.
He gave a quiet, helpless laugh, as if the idea were too absurd to consider.
I slowly shook my head.
“No.”
Relief passed through his eyes.
He leaned down and pressed a kiss to the uninjured side of my forehead.
“Get some rest. I’ll stay with you.”
A few minutes later, Alexander placed his phone facedown on the bedside table and went into the bathroom.
The room fell quiet.
Then his phone vibrated.
The screen lit up beside me.
A message from Madeline appeared on the lock screen.
Did she believe your explanation?
Before I could breathe, a second message appeared.
You chose me when it mattered. Now keep your promise and leave her.
My eyes fixed on the final two words.
Leave her.
This wasn’t guilt between two friends.
This wasn’t a misunderstanding caused by the crash.
My husband and my best friend had been waiting for a life without me.
The bathroom door opened behind me.
Alexander stepped out, drying his hands.
Then he saw his phone glowing in mine.
The color drained from his face.
“Vivienne,” he said carefully. “Give me the phone.”
I looked up at the man who had left me hanging over a cliff.
“How long have you been sleeping with her?”