Chapter 3: The Loving Husband

I wake again, but this time I keep my breathing steady. I need to be smart about this.

I cannot move or speak, and I refuse to waste more energy on failed attempts to warn my father. Nothing is more terrifying than knowing that my savior and the one who seeks to harm me are in the same room.

After steadying my breathing, I focus entirely on my hearing and catch the anxious exchange between my father and husband.

But they aren’t in the room.

I take the risk and slowly open my eyes just enough to locate them. Through the small gap in the doorway of my hospital suite, I can see their silhouettes standing in the hallway.

“No, Vance. I’m not leaving my daughter’s side. I entrusted her to you, and look what happened.”

“And it’s something I’ll regret for the rest of my life,” Vance replies smoothly. “But please, get some rest, Mr. Hawkins. You can trust she’s in the best hands.”

“Absolutely not. I have plenty of time to rest when I’m dead.”

Keep. Your. Breathing. Steady.

Charlotte, stay calm. Do not trigger the heart monitor.

I force myself to relax before tuning back into their conversation.

“While you’re here, Vance,” my father continues sharply, “please explain why you called a meeting with my company’s board.”

A nervous, half-hearted laugh escapes Vance’s throat. The sound sends a shiver down my spine.

I inhale slowly and release a quiet breath through my nose.

Their voices rise now—loud enough that the entire ward could probably hear them.

“My love for my daughter is unconditional,” my father declares. “She’s my baby girl. You. Could. Never. Compete. With. That.”

A tear slips from the corner of my eye.

They say a girl’s first love is her father.

If that’s true, no one could ever doubt the love my father has for me. I’m his only daughter—the apple of his eye. Growing up with four older brothers made that very clear.

My childhood was loud, chaotic, and full of protective shadows hovering around me. If I scraped my knee, four boys and my father were ready to wage war on the pavement.

I truly could do no wrong in his eyes.

God… I wish I had listened to him all those years ago.

I wish I had never married Vance.

“That’s absurd!” my father snaps suddenly. “You cannot nominate yourself as chairman of Hawkins Enterprises. My daughter is still alive—and believe me, I will do everything in my power to ensure she wakes.”

Silence follows.

Heavy. Tense.

I don’t like this silence at all.

“Oh, and one more thing,” my father adds coldly. “Lottie has four older brothers who can stand in as chairman while she recovers. So you needn’t concern yourself with that matter.”

“Understood, Mr. Hawkins,” Vance replies smoothly. “I’m happy to continue my role as head of the financial department.”

My father grunts in response.

A moment later, I hear them walk back into the room. The creaky leather couches groan as they sit—one beside my bed, the other near the foot.

The air shifts slightly as someone moves closer to me.

A tap runs somewhere nearby. Plastic rustles.

Then something cold and damp touches my lips.

A sponge.

For a split second I want to knock it away, but the small trickles of water instantly soak into my painfully dry mouth and throat. The relief is immediate, almost overwhelming.

It’s like rain falling onto cracked desert soil.

My throat greedily absorbs every drop.

Then it stops.

The sponge pulls away.

Frustration sparks through me. It feels like a cruel tease.

Suddenly I hear sniffles. Quiet sobbing.

“My love… I’m so glad you’re okay,” Vance whispers softly. “Just know that I will never leave your side again.”

I want to scream.

The words feel like poison.

I try to shout, to warn my father, to expose the monster sitting beside my bed—but what escapes my throat sounds like a pathetic, broken rasp.

I’m so sick of being vulnerable.

I force my eyes open and glare at him before retreating from the harsh hospital lights again.

I hear my father shuffle closer.

“I’ll turn off some of the lights. Will that help? Blink once for yes, twice for no,” Vance suggests.

I don’t like the idea of this room being dark while he’s in here.

Panic spikes.

The heart monitor begins to beep faster.

I expect to black out again when suddenly I feel pressure on my hand.

A gentle squeeze.

Then a harder one.

A warning.

Vance.

Inside my head I scream and scream, but only a weak whimper escapes my lips.

“Lottie, dear,” my dad says gently. “Blink once for yes and twice for no. Don’t overexert yourself—we just want you to be comfortable.”

I open my eyes.

Blink once.

Close them.

Open again.

Blink a second time.

The effort drains what little strength I have left.

My eyelids feel like they weigh a thousand pounds.

“Well, Vance,” my father asks from the doorway, “am I turning them on or off?”

I feel Vance’s knuckles brush across my cheek.

The touch is gentle.

Too gentle.

Dread floods my body.

There’s a long pause before he answers.

“Off. She wants them off. Thank you, Mr. Hawkins.”

The overhead lights click off one by one.

The room sinks into shadows.

And suddenly, a horrifying realization crawls through my mind.

Vance didn’t want the lights off for my comfort.

He wanted them off for his.