Chapter 4

Emily paled. The mask of sweet vulnerability shattered, revealing the manipulative shrew underneath. She took a step back, her eyes darting towards the door as if expecting Mark to magically appear and save her.

"You're a bitch," she hissed, the syrupy sweetness gone from her voice.

"Get out," I repeated, my voice like ice.

She gave me one last look of pure hatred before turning on her heel and practically fleeing the room. The silence she left behind was a relief. I leaned my head back against the pillow, my body trembling with adrenaline.

My victory was short-lived.

Minutes later, the door to my room slammed open. Mark stood there, his face a thunderous mask of rage. Emily was clinging to his arm, sobbing hysterically.

"Sarah, what the hell did you say to her?" he boomed, his voice echoing in the small room. "She came to me in tears! Accusing a pregnant woman, threatening her? After she just survived a traumatic fire? What is wrong with you?"

He didn't even ask for my side of the story. He had already tried and convicted me in his mind, based on the words of a manipulative liar he'd known for a month.

"I'm the one who survived a traumatic fire, Mark," I said, my voice dangerously calm. "Or did you forget?"

He finally, truly, looked at me then. His eyes scanned my body-the heavy cast on my leg, the thick white bandages on my arm, the bruises blooming on my skin. For a split second, a look of genuine shock and horror crossed his face. It was as if he was seeing my injuries for the first time.

The look vanished as quickly as it came, replaced by a defensive scowl.

"I know you're hurt, Sarah," he said, his tone softening slightly but still laced with justification. "But Emily was scared. She was trapped, panicking. She needed me. You're strong, you always have been. I knew you'd be okay."

I knew you'd be okay.

The words were more painful than any burn. It wasn't just a justification; it was an excuse he had already fed himself, a lie he had constructed to absolve himself of his unforgivable choice. He hadn't left me because he panicked. He left me because he had assessed the situation and decided I was disposable. My strength, the very quality he had always claimed to admire, had become his permission slip to abandon me.

The last embers of my love for him turned to cold, dead ash.

"That's the most pathetic excuse I have ever heard," I said, my voice hollow. "You didn't know I'd be okay. You ran past your bleeding wife to save an intern with a cough. Just admit it."

"It wasn't like that!" he insisted, his voice rising again. Emily whimpered beside him, pressing her face into his shoulder.

"Then what was it like, Mark?" I pushed, my gaze unwavering. "Why did you have your assistant come down here and tell me I was being 'dramatic'? Why have you spent every waking moment catering to her while I'm lying in this bed with a broken leg and broken ribs? Why are you defending the woman who told me, to my face, that she set the fire on purpose?"

"She would never do that!" he shouted. "She's not capable of something like that! You're just lashing out because you're hurt and jealous!"

"Jealous?" I let out a short, bitter laugh. "You're right, I am hurt. I'm hurt that the man I built a life with, the man who swore to love and protect me, left me to burn. I'm hurt that you are so blinded by this... this plot... that you can't see the truth right in front of your face."

I looked at him, really looked at him, and saw a stranger. A weak man hiding behind a script.

"Tell me why you married me, Mark," I asked, my voice dropping to a whisper. "Was it really love? Or was it just to defy the 'destiny' you claimed to hate? A way to prove you were in control?"

He flinched, a flicker of guilt in his eyes.

"Why did you lie to me for three years, pretending we had a choice?"

He stood there in silence, his jaw tight. He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again. He had no answer. He couldn't defend the indefensible. He just stood there, a guilty man, clinging to the arm of the woman he had chosen over me, unable to look me in the eye.

The silence was all the confession I needed.