Chapter 4

Once Jenny left the room, I held the new phone in my hand. A single saved contact waited in the list marked with Ethan's name.

I stared at that simple name for a long time. The phone screen dimmed slowly while bright daylight outside faded into soft, dim evening light inside the hospital room.

I chose not to dial his number yet.

I wanted to reach out, but the timing wasn't right. I held no solid proof or useful bargaining power. I had no way to stand against Andrew or the company.

Andrew was right in one regard. Starlight Entertainment's backing built my career. The label owned all rights to my music and creative work. Every contract and professional deal tied me firmly to their company.

The only thing I kept for myself was my title of Mrs. Lane.

Andrew saw that empty title as proper payment for the life he took from me. He saw the loss of my voice as a reasonable price for social status and security as his wife.

I would let him hold onto that false belief for now.

I pressed the nurse call button, and it wasn't long before a nurse stepped into my room.

"Is everything all right?" she asked gently.

"I want to leave the hospital," I spoke in a soft, breathy voice.

The nurse wore a hesitant look. "Ms. Summers, the attending doctor was against you checking out this early. Your vocal cords still need close monitoring and ongoing care."

"Arrange a hospital transfer then. Send me to Evergreen Medical Center."

"Well, your family needs to sign off on this. Mr. Lane made it clear that he needs to review all your medical decisions..."

"I'm his wife, not someone locked under his control." I held her gaze, my voice firm. "I will sign all paperwork on my own. Bring legal help over if hospital rules stand in the way."

My sharp tone caught her off guard. She hurried out to make a phone call.

Andrew walked through my door half an hour later.

I could tell he had rushed over in a hurry.

He wore only a crisp white shirt with no suit jacket. His sleeves sat rolled up to his elbows, showing lean forearms.

His expression was tight and strained when he came in. That harsh look faded the second his eyes landed on me, replaced with a loving mask.

"Why would you ask for a hospital transfer all of a sudden?" He sat beside my bed and reached for my hand with easy, familiar warmth. "Are you unhappy with the care here? I can have the hospital bring in new staff right away."

"I want to move back to my own place." I pulled my hand free from his hold. "The Lane family estate never felt like home to me."

A cold shadow crossed his eyes. "Charlotte, what are you saying?"

"I mean, I want to live in my own apartment." I met his stare straight on. "The one my father left behind. You must remember it belongs to me from before our marriage."

Andrew fell quiet for a short stretch of time. A smooth, polished smile slowly spread across his face. The gentle warmth in that look felt hollow and chilling.

"That apartment has sat empty for years. Old plumbing would have fallen into disrepair. I can't feel at ease letting you live alone in such a run-down space," he said, his voice full of fake concern.

"I can manage on my own," I replied flatly.

"I'm your husband." His tone turned firm for a moment before easing back into a gentle tone. "Charlotte, I know you feel hurt and frustrated.

"Your vocal injury has left you upset and unstable, and I do understand that. Still, this kind of stubborn outburst only disrupts your medical care. It also stirs unwanted talk among outsiders.

"People will wonder why my wife pushes for distance and whether our marriage has fallen apart."

He paused and held my gaze, his voice dropping to a quiet murmur meant only for me to hear. "You need to see the truth clearly. You have no one and nothing besides me right now."

His words cut slow and sharp, chipping away at the last shred of my pride.

"You can no longer hold concerts or record new music," he went on. "Your public appeal keeps fading with each passing day. Brand deals, show appearances and public opportunities will all slip away in time.

"Most people you keep close only stay for what you can give them. Few would stay loyal once you lose your value in the public eye."

He sighed and spoke to me like I was being a silly child, "But I'm not like them. As your husband, I will stay by your side through every hardship.

"I overlook every mood swing and unreasonable outburst because I know you struggle to come to terms with a new reality. In time, you will see every choice I make is for your own good."

He lifted a hand to brush my cheek, but I turned away and avoided his touch.

His hand hung mid-air for a short moment. Then he pulled it back with calm composure and acted as though the small rejection had never happened.

"I won't approve a hospital transfer," he spoke in the sharp, decisive tone he used for work as he rose to his feet. "Evergreen Medical Center's ear and throat care is well known, but the specialist I hired here ranks among the top experts in this field.

"I spared great expense to bring him on for your treatment. Focus on healing first. We can discuss all other matters once your condition improves."

He walked toward the door and glanced back at me before leaving. "Evelyn flies back into the country tomorrow. She learned about your health struggles and feels concerned, so she plans to stop by and check on you."

A faint knowing smile played on his lips. The quiet joy in his look carried clear hints of provocation. "You two can spend some time catching up as family."

The door clicked shut behind him.

I curled my fingers tight around the blanket edge until my knuckles turned pale.

Evelyn, my cousin, was coming. The woman Andrew held in highest regard, the one seen as perfect and pure in every way, would soon walk through that door.

Taking a shaky breath, I picked up the hidden phone. I found the contact saved under Ethan's name and pressed the dial button.

On the third ring, Ethan answered.

A short pause hung over the call. Then a low voice filtered through the speaker, quiet and unsure. "Charlotte?"

His tone stayed unchanged from years ago. It carried a soft, warm depth, smooth and rich like the low string of a cello.

A sharp twinge tightened my throat. Tears welled up fast and spilled over without warning.

I forced out slow, broken words with my damaged voice. "Ethan, they ruined me."

Heavy silence stretched on the other end of the line.

He spoke at last with steady urgency, "Tell me where you are."