Chapter 6

Ryan's brow furrowed as his gaze dropped to my phone. "What does that mean?"

But just as he was about to read the message, the door was shoved open.

"Who called the police?"

Ryan's expression darkened at once. Before I could say anything, he pulled me tightly against him.

"Officers, this is all a misunderstanding."

I struggled in his arms. "I called! He had my entire face surgically altered without my consent!"

Ryan tightened his grip until it felt like he might crush my arm.

"This woman is my wife. I can show you our marriage certificate."

His voice was calm and steady, the kind that made people instinctively want to believe him.

"She has severe anxiety and has struggled with her appearance for years. This time, she decided to have extensive cosmetic surgery because she was unhappy with how she looked."

He continued without missing a beat.

"Unfortunately, the surgery didn't turn out the way she wanted. It aggravated her condition, and now she's experiencing symptoms of schizophrenia."

I stared at him in disbelief. "Ryan Holt!"

"Be good and listen to me."

He held me even tighter, his voice gentle enough to sound loving, yet there was something chilling underneath it.

"Officers, I have her medical records right here."

Ryan pulled up a copy of my diagnosis on his phone.

I did have severe anxiety.

But it had never had anything to do with my appearance.

I'd been diagnosed during the worst period of our marriage, right after I discovered Ryan's affair. I cried constantly, barely slept, and spent every waking hour terrified that the relationship I'd devoted myself to was coming to an end.

When Ryan begged me to take him back, he'd sworn to me, "Shay, it's only anxiety. I'll stay with you until you're better."

That diagnosis should have been proof of what he'd put me through.

Now he was using it against me, not to help me, but to drag me even deeper into hell.

I lunged forward and knocked the phone from his hand.

"Yes, I have anxiety, but I never agreed to that surgery. I would never have chosen to..."

"That's enough, honey. Can you please stop wasting police resources?"

Ryan covered my mouth before I could finish and calmly watched the officers leave.

That was when I realized I couldn't sit there and let him control what happened next.

The moment his guard dropped, I drove my foot up between his legs as hard as I could.

Ryan cried out and folded instantly. His body went weak, and he collapsed onto the floor, unable to get back up.

The realization came almost immediately.

His ALS had probably started progressing.

His face drained of color as he called after me.

"Shay..."

I didn't stay to hear the rest.

A mocking smile touched my lips as I turned and walked away without hesitation.

Why should I care if my soon-to-be ex-husband was getting sick?

The moment I left the hospital, I called 911 again.

The phone had barely started ringing when pain exploded through the back of my head.

Someone struck me from behind.

Everything went black.

When I woke again, my hands and feet were tied, and I was lying in a stark white hospital room.

The walls were covered in the same four words, written over and over in black marker.

LET ME OUT.

A terrible feeling rose in my chest.

I kicked the headboard as hard as I could.

A few seconds later, two nurses in white coats walked in with gentle expressions.

Their movements were anything but gentle.

One of them pressed a stun device against me.

My vision went dark around the edges as electricity tore through my body.

The nurse kept speaking in the same calm, soothing voice.

"Ms. Moore, please try to stay calm. We're going to provide you with a full course of treatment. Once your condition is stable, you'll be allowed to leave the psychiatric hospital."

Then they held a phone up to me.

Ryan's voice came through the speaker.

"Shay, why can't you just behave?

"Since you insisted on calling the police, I couldn't risk dragging Winnie into this. I had no choice but to do this." His tone remained maddeningly calm.

"Don't worry. Once Winnie has recovered and I've taken her home, I'll come get you myself."

The words hit me like a thunderclap.

Ryan had put me in a psychiatric hospital.

My whole body started trembling.

I stared at the stun device in the nurse's hand and nearly begged him.

"No. Ryan, no. Come get me out of here right now!"

The only answer was the dead tone.

The room seemed to close in around me as the stun device came toward me again.

The nurse sounded almost regretful.

"Ms. Moore, we told you to cooperate. If you refuse to listen, we'll have to teach you how."

The next seven days were a nightmare.

They punished every attempt I made to resist.

Needles were driven into my fingertips again and again. My head was forced into filthy water. I was shocked until I barely had enough strength left to stand.

Eventually, word finally came from Ryan.

"Mr. Holt wants you taken to Central Hospital," one of the staff members told me. "He says there's something very important he needs to discuss with you."

For the first time in days, they gave me my phone back.

I opened my unread messages one by one.

The first was from my attorney.

"Ms. Moore, your divorce has been finalized. You can now file with the court to enforce the agreement and require Mr. Holt to transfer all assets covered under its terms."

The next was from the hospital.

"To the family of Mr. Ryan Holt: Mr. Holt's condition is critical. We need you to come to the hospital as soon as possible so we can discuss the next stage of his treatment."

The final message was from Ryan himself.

"Shay, I'm sick. Come to the hospital immediately and stay with me for the tests."

I looked at the messages and smiled coldly.

Then I raised a hand and hailed a cab.

"Take me to the courthouse."

Sorry, Ryan.

At this point, I didn't want the husband anymore.

I wanted the assets.