Chapter 3

When I woke up again, the world was the same impenetrable black, but the pain was different. The dull ache in my abdomen had sharpened into a deep, throbbing agony, a hollow wound that echoed the emptiness inside me.

They had done it.

The knowledge settled not with a crash, but with a quiet, devastating certainty. I was no longer whole. A part of me, a future I had once dreamed of, had been cut out and thrown away. A single, hot tear escaped from under my bandage and traced a path down my temple.

I lay still for a long time, just breathing through the pain, physical and emotional. The rhythmic beeping of the monitor was still there, a steadfast witness to my violation.

Then, I heard voices approaching again. Liam and a woman. Ashley.

"Are you sure she can't hear us?" Ashley's voice was light and airy, but with an undercurrent of excitement I recognized all too well.

"She's completely sedated," Liam assured her. "Dr. Evans said she'll be out for hours. How are you feeling? Any pain?"

"A little," Ashley said, and I could almost picture her putting a delicate hand to her face. "But it's worth it, Liam. Oh, it's so worth it. I looked in the mirror this morning. I can see. I can really, truly see."

Her voice broke with a theatrical sob of joy.

My hands clenched into fists at my sides, my nails digging into my palms. She was celebrating. Celebrating with my eyes.

"The world is so bright," she continued. "I almost forgot what colors looked like. Thank you, Liam. You gave me my life back."

"I'd do anything for you, Ash. You know that," he said, his voice soft and genuine in a way it never truly was with me. This was his real love. This toxic, twisted obsession.

"What about her?" Ashley asked, her tone shifting slightly. "What happens now?"

"Now, we get married," Liam said simply. "Once she's 'recovered,' we'll have the wedding. It solidifies my position, and with her... condition, she'll be completely dependent on me. No one will question it."

"And the other thing?" Ashley whispered. "The... problem?"

"The problem has been removed," Liam confirmed. "You never have to worry about that. It's just you and me."

I heard the sound of a soft kiss. My stomach turned. They were standing just outside my room, discussing my dismemberment and their glorious future together. The sheer audacity of it fueled the cold fire of my rage.

Soon after, their footsteps receded. The silence that returned was heavier than before.

Later, a different nurse came in. Her presence was announced by a tray clattering onto the bedside table and a rough hand grabbing my arm to check my pulse.

"You need to try and drink some water," she said, her voice sharp and impatient. It was Nurse Brenda.

She thrust a cup with a straw toward my face. I flinched, not knowing where it was. The plastic straw jabbed me in the cheek.

"For God's sake, it's right here," she snapped, pushing it toward my lips with more force. "We don't have all day."

Her cruelty was a petty reflection of Liam's grand evil. A world that kicks you when you're down. I tried to drink, but my throat was tight with unshed tears and rage. The water dribbled down my chin onto the hospital gown.

"Ugh, what a mess," Brenda muttered, pulling the cup away. "You're more trouble than you're worth."

Just as she was about to leave, the door swung open.

"What do you think you're doing?" Liam's voice was dangerously calm.

Brenda froze. "Mr. Miller! I was just... helping Ms. Davis with some water."

"It looked to me like you were jabbing her in the face and insulting her," Liam said, stepping closer. I could feel the shift in the room's atmosphere. The air crackled with his authority. "Is that how this hospital trains its staff to care for trauma patients?"

"No, sir, I-"

"Get out," Liam commanded. "You're fired. I want you out of this hospital in the next ten minutes. I'll be speaking to your supervisor."

The nurse scurried out of the room without another word. Liam came to my bedside, his hand finding mine again. He used a napkin to gently dab the water from my chin.

"I'm so sorry, Chloe," he said, his voice once again the perfect imitation of a loving fiancé. "I can't believe she treated you like that. I won't let anyone disrespect you. I'm here to protect you."

The whiplash was nauseating. He was my tormentor and my "protector." He created the wound and then put a bandage on it, expecting my gratitude. He was playing a sick game, and for now, I had to play along.

"Liam," I whispered, making my voice sound as weak and broken as possible.

"I'm here, my love."

"I want to go home," I said.

It was a test.

"Of course," he said immediately. "As soon as the doctors say you're stable, I'm taking you home. Our home. I'll take care of you myself."

His words sealed my next move. "Home" was his apartment, another prison. But it was a prison I might be able to escape. A hospital was too controlled. At his apartment, there might be a chance. A phone. An open window. A delivery person.

"Thank you," I breathed, letting him squeeze my hand.

He thought my request was a sign of my dependence. He had no idea it was the first step of my plan. I would go to his home. I would be the perfect, broken, grateful fiancée. And I would find a way to bring his entire world crashing down.