Chapter 4

The last thing I heard was Helene's frantic screaming of my name.

When I woke up again, I was surrounded by the sterile white of a hospital room. The beeping of a heart monitor was a steady rhythm beside me. Helene was asleep in a chair, her face tear-stained and pale. Ferris, her older brother, stood by the window, his back to me, his shoulders tense.

Helene must have called him. The Brooks family was powerful, more than capable of tracking a phone signal to a warehouse in the middle of nowhere.

They had saved me.

Helene stirred as I moved, her eyes flying open. "Abby! You're awake!"

She rushed to my side, her eyes full of a mixture of relief and fury. "Who did this to you, Abby? I swear to God, I will kill them."

Tears welled in my eyes. "It was Conrad," I whispered, the name tasting like poison.

Helene's face contorted with rage. She slammed her fist on the side of the bed. "That bastard! That absolute bastard!"

"I'm going to kill him," she seethed. "I'm going to ruin him."

"No," I said, my voice surprisingly firm. "He's mine to deal with."

Helene looked like she wanted to argue, but she saw the look in my eyes and reluctantly nodded.

I spent two days in that hospital, floating in a haze of painkillers. My back was a patchwork of bandages, and the doctors said I was lucky the infection hadn't turned septic.

On the third day, I was finally able to get out of bed, leaning heavily on Helene. We were walking slowly down the hallway when I saw them.

Conrad and Kassidy.

Kassidy was in a wheelchair, a blanket over her lap, looking pale and fragile. Conrad was pushing her, his expression a mask of tender concern. They were laughing about something.

They were in the VIP wing of the same hospital. Kassidy, for her fake allergy attack.

The injustice of it all was so stark, so cruel, it stole my breath.

Helene saw them too. A low growl escaped her lips. "I can't even look at them."

She started to pull me in the other direction, but I stood my ground. "No. I want to see him."

We walked toward them. As we got closer, Conrad looked up. His eyes, once they landed on me, turned to ice.

"What are you doing here?" he sneered, as if my very presence was an offense.

Helene stepped in front of me. "What are we doing here? What are you doing here, you piece of shit? Doting on this fake-sick little tramp while the woman you tortured lies in a hospital bed?"

Conrad's eyes narrowed. "Watch your mouth, Helene. This has nothing to do with you."

"It has everything to do with me!" she shot back. "You hurt my best friend!"

I put a hand on Helene's arm and gently pushed past her. I looked Conrad straight in the eye.

"You're a real romantic, Conrad," I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm. "Sending men to whip a woman as a gift for your beloved. How sweet."

I accused him directly. "You had me kidnapped and beaten."

He didn't even deny it. A flicker of something-annoyance? satisfaction?-crossed his face. "You deserved it. A light punishment for what you did to Kassidy."

A light punishment.

My back was a field of raw, weeping wounds. I would be scarred for life. And he called it a light punishment.

I took a deep breath, steeling myself.

Then I swung my hand with all the strength I had left in my body.

The sound of my palm connecting with his cheek echoed in the quiet hallway. It was a sharp, satisfying crack.

His head snapped to the side. A red handprint bloomed on his perfect, stoic face.

The force of the blow sent a shock of pain through my own body, aggravating the wounds on my back, but I barely felt it. All I felt was a pure, cleansing rage.

"You're right," I said, my voice shaking but clear. "I did deserve something. I deserved this."

I looked at him, at the shocked expression on his face, the first crack I'd ever seen in his marble facade.

"Consider this my official breakup with you, Conrad," I said. "For three years, I was blind and stupid. Now I see you for what you are."

His face twisted into a mask of fury. He took a step toward me, his hand raising.

But Helene was faster. She threw herself in front of me, her arms spread wide.

"Don't you dare touch her!" she shrieked, her voice attracting the attention of nurses and other patients. "Everyone, look! Tech mogul Conrad Ellison is trying to assault a sick woman in a hospital!"

People were staring, whispering.

"Let's go, Abby," Helene said, pulling me away.

We walked away, leaving him standing there, his handprint a brand of shame on his face.

Kassidy, from her wheelchair, picked up a bouquet of flowers that had fallen to the floor. "Conrad? What happened?"

He stomped on the flowers, crushing them under his heel, but his voice was soft as he spoke to her. "It's nothing, Kass. Just a crazy woman."

He turned, his eyes, dark and cold and full of murder, following us down the hall.