Shattered Vows: The Betrayed Wife Takes Revenge

Catalina opened her eyes. The harsh afternoon sun sliced through the blinds of the Los Angeles hospital room, sending a sharp spike of pain straight to the back of her skull. She blinked against the blinding light. The anesthesia from the surgery was still thick in her blood, making the ceiling tiles swim above her.

She tried to shift her weight. A violent tearing sensation ripped through her ribcage. She sucked in a sharp breath, her teeth clamping down on her lower lip to trap the groan in her throat. The memory of the Pacific Coast Highway crashed into her mind. The screeching tires. The shattering glass. The crushing impact.

She turned her head slowly, fighting the stiffness in her neck. She looked at the visitor chair beside her bed. She needed to see Broderick. She needed the reassurance of his face.

The chair was empty. A grey cashmere blanket was folded neatly over the armrest.

The door clicked open. A blonde nurse pushed a metal cart into the room, the rubber wheels squeaking against the linoleum. The nurse saw Catalina awake and immediately pressed the call button on the wall behind the bed.

"Where is my husband?" Catalina asked. Her voice was a dry, broken rasp.

The nurse adjusted the drip rate on the IV bag. "Mr. Ramos is resting in the VIP suite right next door. The hospital arranged it for him. It is too difficult for him to sit in his wheelchair for hours on end."

A heavy wave of guilt crashed into Catalina's chest. She closed her eyes. Broderick suffered from severe nerve damage and PTSD. He had been confined to that wheelchair for two years. And now, because of her accident, he was exhausting himself in a hospital.

"You need to stay in bed, Mrs. Ramos," the nurse said, checking the monitors. "Absolutely no walking. Your ribs need time to stabilize."

The nurse turned and left the room. The door clicked shut. The silence in the room felt suffocating. Catalina could not just lie there. The image of Broderick suffering alone next door gnawed at her stomach.

She reached over and pulled the pulse oximeter clip off her index finger. The machine began to emit a low, steady beep. She threw the heavy hospital blanket off her body. Cold sweat instantly broke out across her forehead.

She swung her legs over the edge of the mattress. Her bare feet hit the freezing floor. A wave of dizziness hit her so hard her vision went black at the edges. She gripped the edge of the nightstand, her knuckles turning white as she waited for the room to stop spinning.

She grabbed the metal pole of her IV stand. She leaned her entire body weight against it and dragged her feet forward. Every step sent a fresh wave of agony radiating from her chest.

The hallway was completely empty. The low hum of the central air conditioning was the only sound.

She shuffled toward the door of the adjacent VIP suite. The heavy wooden door was not completely shut. A narrow gap remained, leaving a sliver of space to see inside.

Catalina reached out to push the door open, ready to apologize to her husband for making him worry.

A high-pitched, familiar laugh drifted through the gap.

Catalina froze. Her hand hovered an inch from the wood. That laugh belonged to Jami Meadows. Broderick's high school ex-girlfriend.

A sudden, icy dread wrapped around Catalina's heart. Her breathing stopped. She leaned closer to the crack in the door, her eyes finding the gap past the entryway wall.

Her entire world shattered.

Broderick was not in his wheelchair. The man who had been paralyzed for two years was standing perfectly straight in front of the floor-to-ceiling window. His legs were solid. His posture was flawless.

His arms were wrapped tightly around Jami's waist.

Jami rested her head against his chest. "When are you going to get rid of that boring, free nurse of yours?" she whined.

Broderick lowered his head and kissed Jami deeply. "Just be patient, Jami. Once the trust is settled, we won't have to pretend anymore," he chuckled, his voice low and conspiratorial. "At least this way, I get some peace. She practically worships me, and I do not have to share a bed with her."

Bile rose in the back of Catalina's throat. The hospital floor seemed to drop out from under her. Her lungs seized, refusing to take in oxygen. She slapped both hands over her mouth to choke back the scream tearing up her throat.

She stumbled backward. Her heel caught on the base of the IV pole. She caught her balance, her chest heaving, her stomach violently churning. She stumbled back to her room, every agonizing step fueled by pure, unadulterated adrenaline, the metal pole scraping loudly against the floor behind her. The pain in her ribs was blinding, but the burning betrayal in her chest overrode her physical agony as she forced her broken body forward.

Catalina practically fell onto her hospital bed. The impact sent a blinding flash of pain through her broken ribs, but she did not care. She yanked the IV pole to the side and grabbed the blanket, pulling it up to her chin.

Her entire body was shaking. Her teeth chattered as if she had been thrown into freezing water.

Out in the hallway, the heavy, rhythmic thud of rubber wheelchair tires rolling over the carpet grew louder. The sound stopped right outside her door.

The metal handle clicked and turned.

Catalina squeezed her eyes shut. She forced her breathing to slow down, mimicking the rhythm of sleep.

Broderick pushed his wheelchair into the room. The motor hummed quietly. He stopped right beside her bed. Catalina could feel his presence. She could smell his expensive cologne. It was the same cologne she had bought him for his birthday. The scent now made her want to vomit.

Under the blanket, Catalina dug her fingernails into the palms of her hands until the skin nearly broke. She needed the physical pain to ground her.

Broderick reached out. His warm fingers brushed against the back of her hand resting on the mattress.

The moment his skin touched hers, a violent, somatic revulsion ripped through her. Her stomach lurched. She yanked her hand away, twisting her face into a grimace of pain as if the movement had pulled at her injured ribs.

Broderick's hand froze in mid-air. A flash of annoyance crossed his face, quickly replaced by a mask of deep concern.

Catalina fluttered her eyes open. She looked at him, forcing her eyes to appear unfocused and weak.

"How are you feeling, my love?" Broderick asked. His voice was dripping with a sickening sweetness.

Catalina looked at his handsome face. She saw the mouth that had just been kissing Jami. She swallowed the acid rising in her throat.

"Everything hurts," she whispered, her voice genuinely raspy. "Please do not touch me. It hurts too much."

Broderick let out a heavy, dramatic sigh. He looked down at his useless legs. "If only I could stand up. If only I could have protected you."

The hypocrisy of his words felt like a physical blow to her head. She wanted to scream. She wanted to grab the water pitcher and smash it across his face.

Broderick leaned forward in his wheelchair, aiming his lips at her forehead for a comforting kiss.

Catalina turned her head sharply, reaching for the plastic water cup on the nightstand. His lips brushed against the empty air.

Broderick sat back. His jaw tightened. His hands gripped the armrests of his wheelchair, his knuckles turning pale. He hated being rejected.

A shadow moved across the glass window of the hospital door. Catalina caught the movement out of the corner of her eye. Jami was standing in the hallway, peering through the glass with a smug, territorial glare.

Broderick followed Catalina's gaze. He cleared his throat loudly, shifting his weight in the chair.

"I am going to go find the doctor," Broderick said, his tone suddenly clipped. "I will make them increase your pain medication."

"Thank you, darling," Catalina said.

Broderick turned the wheelchair around and rolled out of the room. The moment his back was to her, the loving husband act vanished.

The door clicked shut.

Catalina dropped the water cup. She grabbed a sterile alcohol wipe from the bedside table. She ripped the packet open and scrubbed the back of her hand where his fingers had touched her. She scrubbed until the skin was raw and burning red.

She threw the wipe into the trash can. She stared at the ceiling. The tears were gone. Her heart was no longer breaking. It was turning into solid ice. She was going to destroy them. She was going to take everything they valued and burn it to the ground.

The next morning, Catalina felt the heavy fog of the pain medication lifting. Her body still ached with every breath, but her mind was razor-sharp. She swung her legs out of bed. She could stand now without the room spinning.

Laura, the blonde nurse from yesterday, walked into the room to check Catalina's blood pressure.

"I will be right back, Mrs. Ramos," Laura said cheerfully as she unhooked the cuff. "I just need to drop off a new gel cushion for your husband's wheelchair in the suite next door."

Catalina's eyes locked onto the nurse. A cold, calculated plan formed in her mind.

As soon as Laura stepped out of the room, Catalina unplugged her phone from the charger. She shoved it into the pocket of her hospital gown. She gripped the wall for support and walked silently out into the hallway.

She stayed close to the wall, following Laura's path.

Laura stopped her cart right outside the door of the VIP suite. The door opened. Broderick rolled out in his wheelchair, with Jami walking right beside him.

Catalina quickly stepped behind a massive potted palm tree at the corner of the hallway. She held her breath.

Laura smiled and handed the thick black cushion to Jami. "Here you go, Mrs. Ramos. The new cushion for your husband."

The air in the hallway froze. Jami's face flushed with a sudden, triumphant thrill.

She did not correct the nurse. Instead, Jami offered a sickeningly sweet smile and took the cushion. "Thank you so much. He really needed this."

Behind the palm tree, Catalina pulled her phone out of her pocket. She opened the camera app and hit record. She zoomed in on the three of them.

Broderick shifted uncomfortably in his chair. He coughed into his fist. He did not correct Laura either. He simply looked at the nurse and lowered his voice. "Please keep the noise down in the hallway. We are trying to rest."

Laura blinked, sensing the sudden awkwardness. She apologized quickly and pushed her cart away down the corridor.

Jami rolled her eyes. She leaned down and whispered into Broderick's ear. "Why do you not just tell them who I really am?"

Broderick grabbed her hand and squeezed it. "Not yet. We cannot let the media get ahold of anything until the trust is signed over."

Catalina watched the recording timer tick past thirty seconds. She hit stop. She saved the video to a secure cloud folder.

Broderick patted Jami's leg and turned his wheelchair toward Catalina's room.

Catalina shoved the phone back into her pocket. She stepped out from behind the palm tree, walking slowly toward them, pretending she had just come from her room.

She stopped right in front of Broderick.

Broderick's eyes widened. His hands instantly clamped down on the armrests of his wheelchair. A bead of sweat formed at his temple.

"Who were you just talking to?" Catalina asked. Her voice was flat, devoid of any emotion.

Broderick swallowed hard. "Just a salesman. He walked into the wrong room."

Catalina stared dead into his eyes. "A salesman? In the VIP wing of the most secure private hospital in Los Angeles?"

Broderick's face lost its color. His mouth opened, but no words came out. The lie was so pathetic it hung in the air like a bad smell.

Jami took a step forward, ready to open her mouth and defend him. Broderick shot her a vicious, warning glare that stopped her in her tracks.

"You should not be out of bed," Broderick snapped, his voice rising in defensive anger. He grabbed the handles of his wheels and pushed past her. "Get back to your room before you hurt yourself again."

Catalina turned slowly. She watched him roll away. A dark, hollow smirk pulled at the corner of her mouth.