Chapter 6

I lay on the cold museum floor, the pain in my leg a dull, throbbing ache. Blood was pooling around me.

No one came to help. They just stared, whispering.

Then, two of Elliott's bodyguards were there. They weren't there to help.

One of them grabbed my arm, yanking me to my feet. The movement sent a fresh wave of agony through my leg. I cried out.

"Mr. Hickman said to get you out of here," the guard grunted, his grip like iron.

They dragged me out of the museum, through a service exit, and into the dark alley. My injured leg scraped against the rough pavement. I could feel the grit and dirt grinding into the open wound.

My mind flashed back to a time when Elliott would have moved heaven and earth if I'd so much as scraped my knee. He once carried me for a mile back to our car after I twisted my ankle on a hike, refusing to let my feet touch the ground.

That man was a ghost.

They shoved me into the back of a black car. I slumped against the seat, my body shaking, and finally passed out from the pain.

I woke up in a hospital room. The smell of antiseptic was sharp and clean. A nurse was adjusting my IV drip.

"You're awake," she said, her voice kind. "You lost a lot of blood. You're very lucky. The doctor said the shard missed a major artery by millimeters."

She looked at me with sympathetic eyes. "Should I call your family? Your husband?"

"I don't have any family," I whispered, the words tasting like ash in my mouth. "And he's not my husband."

The door to my room opened, and my heart seized.

Elliott stood there, his face a thundercloud.

He strode over to the bed, ignoring the nurse completely. He didn't ask how I was. He didn't look at the bandages on my leg.

His eyes were full of ice.

"Katarina has a sprained wrist," he said, his voice low and menacing. "All because of you."

"It was an accident," I said, my voice weak. "She pushed me."

"Liar," he hissed. "I saw you. You're jealous and you're vindictive. You can't stand to see me happy with someone else."

"That's not true..."

He leaned down, his face inches from mine. "You will go to her room, and you will get on your knees, and you will apologize."

I stared at him, horrified. The man I had loved for my entire life was completely gone, replaced by this cruel, deluded stranger.

"I have nothing to apologize for," I said, my voice shaking but firm. "She's the one who should apologize. She's lying to you, Elliott. Can't you see it?"

His hand shot out and grabbed my chin, his fingers digging into my jaw. "Don't you dare speak ill of her. You are not worthy to even say her name."

The pain in my jaw was nothing compared to the pain in my heart.

He let go of me with a shove. "You will apologize, or I will make you."

He turned to his bodyguards who had followed him in. "Take her."

One of them stepped forward and ripped the IV needle from my arm. Blood welled up, dripping onto the white sheets.

They pulled me out of the bed. I cried out as my injured leg took my weight. The wound, freshly stitched, felt like it was splitting open.

They dragged me out of the room and down the hall to where Katarina was staying. She was sitting up in bed, her wrist wrapped in a bandage, looking perfectly fine. She gave me a triumphant smirk.

They forced me to my knees in front of her bed. The hard linoleum floor was cold against my skin. My leg screamed in protest.

"Say it," Elliott commanded, his voice like a whip.

I looked up at him, my vision blurring with tears of pain and anger.

I would not give them the satisfaction.