Chapter 5
The smell of disinfectant hit me right in the nose.
I opened my eyes.
Above me, the ceiling was a cold, stark white.
"Olivia," Charles said, his voice hoarse. He was sitting by the bed, looking worn out.
I tried to move.
But a dull pain pulled at my lower back.
The pain was so sharp that cold sweat broke out on my forehead.
From the other side of the bed, I heard a soft sigh.
Charles's mother, Monica Grant, stood there. She absentmindedly twisted the cross in her hand, her eyes locked on me. Her normally strict expression now carried a trace of pity.
She said, "You've hurt your bones. Lie still and rest."
She shook her head, then turned and walked out of the hospital room.
The door closed softly behind her.
I stared at the IV drip, listening to the steady tick of the medicine as it fell.
My throat felt parched.
"Get a lawyer. Let's start the divorce paperwork," I said.
Charles was turning around with a cup of water in his hand.
He stopped in his tracks.
Water sloshed out of the cup and dripped onto the back of his hand.
Charles walked over with a stony expression and reached for my waist.
I turned my head away.
I shrank toward the edge of the bed, avoiding him.
Charles's hand froze in midair.
I dropped my gaze.
To him, I wasn't a wife who'd been hurt.
I was some patient who might go crazy at any second.
Charles withdrew his hand and slammed the cup down on the nightstand.
It made a dull thud.
"Stop acting up," he said, his voice tight with barely contained anger. "Stay home and keep out of trouble once you're discharged."
He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Stop picking on Isabelle. This family needs to calm down."
I closed my eyes and stayed silent.
Over the next few days, Charles cancelled all his social engagements. He spent the entire day in the hospital room, never leaving my side.
He wrung out warm towels to wipe my face, carefully spoon-feeding me oatmeal, one bite at a time.
His every move was gentle, not a single fault to be found.
But all that attentive, almost smothering care made my chest feel heavy, like I couldn't breathe.
The day I was discharged, the sky was heavy and gray.
We pulled up in front of the villa.
Charles answered his phone and stepped out into the backyard.
I leaned against the wall, slowly making my way toward the entryway.
I was on the stairs on the first floor when Isabelle came down the stairs from the second floor, holding Lucas's hand.
Isabelle was wearing a white dress.
She stopped halfway down the stairs, watching me.
"Even if you died in that hospital, Charles wouldn't feel a thing for you," Isabelle said, her voice dropping to a mocking whisper.
She leaned in, a sly smile playing at her lips. "You're a crazy woman. How could you ever compete with me?"
Lucas cowered behind her. Fear flickered in his eyes as he bit his lower lip, too scared to utter a single word.
I ignored her.
I started toward the guest room on the first floor.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Isabelle's toe shift slightly.
She stealthily slipped her foot out, aiming to trip Lucas.
Lucas let out a startled cry and lurched forward. He plunged headfirst down the marble steps.
"Lucas!" I screamed.
My mind went completely blank.
On pure instinct, I threw myself forward.
Agony shot through my lower back, my legs nearly giving out beneath me.
I managed to grab him before he crashed to the floor.
The force sent us both tumbling down.
I wrapped my arms around his head, twisting my body to shield him from the fall.
My right arm banged against the edge of the marble step.
I heard a sharp crack.
Lucas clung to me, burying himself in my arms as he cried his heart out.
His tears rained down on my neck.
The pain in my right arm was so intense, I couldn't even feel it anymore. My forehead was pressed against the cold tile, and my breathing trembled with every shaky inhale.
Hurried footsteps echoed from outside the door.
Charles burst in.
He strode up the steps in big, urgent strides.
He didn't even spare a glance at my injured arm.
He bent down and scooped the sobbing Lucas up from my arms.
"Olivia!" Charles shouted, his eyes bloodshot. The veins at his temples stood out, taut with anger. "Are you seriously trying to push your own son down the stairs?"
I forced myself to lift my head, barely managing it.
The sweat made my eyes sting and ache, blurring my vision.
Isabelle stood on the stairs, trembling with her hand covering her mouth, tears streaming down her face at just the right moment.
I opened my mouth to say something.
But I couldn't make a single sound.
There was nothing left but a suffocating chill.
Charles handed Lucas off to the nanny as she hurried over.
He turned and stared at me.
There was nothing but disgust in his eyes.
"Take her away," Charles barked.
Two bodyguards moved in, pinning my shoulders down.
The broken bone shifted, and I bit down hard on my molars, fighting back a scream.
"Shut her in the third-floor guest room," Charles barked.
His voice rang out in the hall, cold as ice. "Don't let her out to lose it again."