Lyra watched them vanish into the hospital. She tipped her head back, fighting tears, and forced herself to move. Hands shaking, she pushed open the car door and headed for the entrance.
By evening, rain was coming down in torrents, soaking straight through her wound. She didn’t bother covering it up.
A nurse at the triage desk went pale, rushing over to help and guiding her to get checked out.
An hour later, Lyra was done with the exams—exhausted and barely hanging on. She grabbed her phone, spotting over a dozen missed calls—all from Joel. Without hesitating, she powered it off.
Since the IV drip would take hours, she asked the nurse to set up a room for the night.
In the quiet, memories swarmed her mind.
After Joel’s paralysis, she used to go to social events for him. One time at a business dinner, two CEOs got into it, and one flipped the table—plates shattered everywhere, and a shard cut her wrist.
Joel showed up, livid, and immediately ordered his assistant to cut ties with both companies. Then he accompanied her to the hospital himself to get the wound cleaned up.
She’d thought he was overreacting, but he’d just smiled and said, “Lyra, you’re the most important woman in my life. I don’t want any scars on you—except maybe from having our kids. Smooth skin looks best with beautiful clothes and jewelry.”
And now, with her face covered in blood, he’d brushed her off to take care of someone else.
He once swore she’d never have to bear a scar, but he made her risk her life to donate bone marrow for another woman. Even marriage and kids—he’d planned all that with someone else behind her back.
Before sleep claimed her, she saw a new post from ReeRee Bliss. It was a video of Joel, half-kneeling and gently washing Renee’s feet to get her to sleep. Lyra played it on loop, heart aching more each time. Sleep never came.
***
