Chapter 3 Unmasked

Darya moved up to the bed, stood right in front of Regina.

The latter offered a weak smile. "Darya, thank you for coming. I-Aah!"

She screeched in pain as Darya ripped off the white gauze wrapped around her forehead.

"What are you doing?" both Micah and Regina demanded in unison.

"Are you out of your mind?" Micah yanked Darya back before she could do more damage.

Regina recovered quickly.

Irritation morphed into bafflement as she worked some hurt into her voice. "I... Darya, I don't understand. Why did you...?"

Darya held up the length of pristine white gauze. "No blood."

Micah knitted his brows.

Darya pointed to Regina's exposed forehead. "No wound. Not even a scratch."

She turned to Micah. "You said she got into an accident, banged up her head pretty bad, lost a lot of blood." She sneered. "Must be invisible blood."

Micah whirled toward the doctor. "What's going on? You diagnosed head trauma, ordered a transfusion."

Doctor Patel, as his nametag pinned above the left breast pocket indicated, slowly rose to his feet.

He was sweating visibly.

"I, ah, we simply... I simply did as instructed."

"Who instructed you?" Micah dropped the volume of his voice, upped the intimidation level.

"You did, Mr. Cavanaugh." The doctor trained his eyes on the floor.

"When did I ask you to fake a diagnosis?"

Darya leaned against a wall, crossed her arms, watched the drama unfold with disinterest.

Micah caught amused derision in her fleeting smile.

He balled his hands into fists, stared a hole through the doctor's balding pate.

"Um, ah, uh, Miss Fischer said..."

"Speak up!" Micah bellowed.

"She told us you wanted the diagnosis to be severe so Miss Miller would have to give blood!" the doctor blurted.

He cast an apologetic glance at Regina. "Sorry."

"Micah, don't listen to him!" Regina sat up straighter, anxious. "He's making this up!"

Micah raised an arm, palm out, a gesture for silence.

Regina shut up.

"Explain," Micah looked pointedly at the doctor.

"Every time, before Miss Fischer comes to the hospital, she would give me a heads-up, make sure I know what, ah, what diagnosis to give, get our story straight. It's normally some kind of injury that would require a blood transfusion."

"And you just went along with it."

The doctor had the decency to look ashamed. "She said she would have my job if I didn't fall in line."

And, since Regina didn't actually need the blood, he could sell it off on the black market.

AB negative was as rare as it could get, pricier than gold.

He had been making a nice little pile of cash on the side and thought it was a mutually beneficial arrangement-though, to be honest, he wasn't sure what benefit Miss Fischer was getting out of it.

"Micah," Regina wrung her hands. "I can explain."

Since her fake wound was exposed, some colour had magically returned to her pale cheeks.

"To give you more time to cook up a plausible story," Darya interjected, "why don't I show him this? You might as well concoct something that explains both the fake wound and the photo."

She tapped a few keys on her screen, looked up at Micah. "I just sent you a photo, annotated."

Micah stared at his own face onscreen.

The background of the candid shot looked familiar.

What was unfamiliar was Regina's face pressed up against his.

"Your company has a pretty decent tech department," Darya said casually. "You can probably get a couple of your people to verify if the photo's doctored, and to trace its sender."

"Who sent you this?" Micah raised his head.

"That's for you to find out, and for her to explain." Darya flashed Regina a feral smile. "By the way, the deal I made with him has been revoked. You're gonna have to find someone else to suck blood from."

She sauntered out of the ward, leaving the past three years of her life behind.

Doctor Patel seized the opportunity to slink off.

Micah gripped his phone.

The comment about Prince Charming and the chambermaid stung.

He'd never thought of Darya as a maid.

In fact, he'd never thought of her, period.

The snarky comment added to the sinking feeling in his stomach-Darya hadn't asked for the divorce on the spur of the moment.

The photo was probably the last straw.

She was really leaving him. Permanently.

A sharp pang stabbed at his heart.

He spun toward the door. "Darya!"

Regina chose this moment to fall off the bed.

Her knees hit the vinyl floor with an audible thud.

She clutched at her chest. "I... I don't feel so well."

Micah paused, hesitated briefly, then turned back. "What's wrong?"

"I... I feel faint." Her face was scrunched up in pain. "I think I'm going to pass out."

"I'll go get the doctor."

"No, don't leave me, please!" She gripped his arm, sobbed. "I miss Lucian. I wish he were here."

Micah froze.

His army buddy's final moments flashed across his mind.

Out of the corner of her eye, Regina caught the mournful look on Micah's face and hid a satisfied smile.

To make sure he stayed with her, she held her breath until she successfully passed out.

Darya stopped in front of the lift, pressed the call button, strained her ears, but heard no hurried footsteps coming down the hallway towards her.

She stretched her lips into a bitter smile.

The man she'd been married to for three years couldn't even take a moment to say goodbye.

She wondered if that was more of a reflection on his lack of sentimentality, or on her failure to etch out even a tiny corner of existence in his heart.

He'd probably already dismissed her from his mind and was on the hunt for the next blood donor.

Darya stepped into the lift.

The doors slid shut.

She came out into the underground carpark.

Micah's black Bugatti was parked in its reserved spot.

She walked past it without a backward glance, stopped in front of a Rolls-Royce Phantom in Smokey Quartz, bowed her head.