LOGINBETTYMy arms hover uselessly in the air, suspended in absolute shock.Nathaniel’s massive frame is wrapped around me, his face buried deep in my neck, his heavy, ragged breaths ghosting across my collarbone.For three paralyzing seconds, my brain entirely short-circuits. I can't process what is happening.But as the initial shock fades, the reality of where we are slowly seeps in. We are in the middle of a brightly lit hospital waiting room, the nurses and orderlies are passing by, and are starting to stare.I should push him away. I should remind him of the boundaries we have drawn. The unspoken ones. But as the suffocating relief that Harriette is going to survive rushes through my own veins, it dismantles every single defense mechanism I have left.So, I do what any decent human being would do. I slowly lower my arms and wrap them tightly around his waist.The moment my palms press flat against his back, a profound, overwhelming warmth radiates from his body, seeping directly thro
NATHANIELThe hospital administration had flatly refused my demand to rent out the entire floor as I had done in New York, but after a sizable "donation" to the ward, they had at least provided me with a private, secure on-call room to clean up in.It is a small, confined space, but meticulously clean.I drop the duffel bag onto the small cot, walk straight to the sink, and I turn the faucet on full blast, splashing freezing-cold water over my face, letting it soak into my messy hair.The icy shock does absolutely nothing to ease the twisting, agonizing fear in my gut regarding Harriette, but at least the heavy, dark bags under my eyes look marginally less pronounced in the mirror.There is a tiny shower stall in the corner. I stare at it. It is entirely too cramped and practical for my tastes, but looking down at my rumpled clothes from yesterday, I don't care. I strip them down and step under the spray.There is no hot water, exactly as I expected, but I have never needed a cold show
NATHANIEL.It has been exactly three hours and twelve minutes since Betty walked out of the hospital.In that agonizing stretch of time, I have paced every single square inch of this sterile waiting room. I have yelled at the nurses behind the front desk twice, completely lost my temper, and threatened to buy the entire hospital and fire the administrative staff, until security politely but firmly informed me that if I opened my mouth again, I would be escorted off the premises.I hate to admit it, but Betty being was the only thing keeping the darkest, most volatile parts of me in check. And the second she left me alone, I unraveled.I clench my hands into white-knuckled fists at my sides, cursing internally for the millionth time.Harriette is still in surgery. The doctor hasn't come through those swinging double doors to give me a single update, leaving my exhausted brain to conjure up only the most terrifying, worst-case scenarios.I have tried everything to keep my mind occupied.
BETTYAnything else? I tap my fingers anxiously against the marble island in the center of the closet. It could get cold. I crouch down and pull one of his heavy, oversized black hoodies from the bottom shelf, stuffing it into the duffel bag.That should be it. I grab the handles of the bag, but right as I turn toward the door, a sudden realization stops me dead in my tracks.Underwear.I let out a heavy, exasperated sigh, letting my head drop back. I have to go into Nathaniel Blackwell’s underwear drawer.What exactly has my life become?I turn back around, staring down the sleek rows of built-in drawers beneath the marble island. I pull the top one open. It is entirely packed with designer sunglasses, all subtly engraved with the letters N.B. I roll my eyes and push it shut.The second drawer. Watches. A terrifying fortune of Rolexes and vintage Patek Philippes resting on velvet cushions. I shut it immediately.The third drawer. Boxers, perfectly color-coordinated next to neat stack
BETTYWe haven't truly spoken since our heavy conversation the other day. He explained his side of the story, but if I am being entirely honest with myself... I feel distant from him. Like, there is a pane of glass between us, and I don't know how to break it.He takes a step forward, closing the distance, and reaches out, his good hand coming to rest gently on my shoulder.I stiffen.It is an involuntary reaction, something that has never happened between us before, but my body just entirely locks up and he notices. The warmth drops from his eyes, and he pulls his hand back, taking a slow step away."How is Harriette?" he asks, his voice quieter now.I fold my lips into a thin line and nod once. "She's in surgery. An emergency bypass for a blocked artery."Rhys takes another step back, running his good hand through his hair, as a heavy, jagged breath leaving his chest. He stares at the floor for a long second before looking back up at me with pure, unfiltered guilt and regret flicker
BETTYI don’t think I have ever seen Nathaniel that terrified in the entire time I have known him.He tried to keep his head up. He tried to wear that impenetrable, stoic mask, but it completely shattered the moment we stepped into that hospital.I could hear the raw, bleeding regret in his voice when he admitted he wished he hadn't gone back to the house. And that he hoped he didn’t have that confrontation with her.I could tell even if he didn’t say it, that he feels entirely responsible for what happened to Harriette. And God knows what will become of him if she doesn't make it out of that surgery. That’s why she has to.I push the dark thought away, my mind flashing back to the muffled argument I overheard through the heavy oak door of the study. “It was the only way to make sure Fausto didn't come after anyone in this family. It was the only way to make sure he didn't come after Betty. Or Rhys.”My chest violently tightens, and my grip on the leather steering wheel turns my knuck
NATHANIELThe divorce papers are clenched in my hand, my grip tight enough that the edges bite into my skin.She should be packing by now, or at least doing something with her newfound freedom.Instead, the bed is neatly made, smoothed down to perfection, the pillows aligned, her clothes still hang
NATHANIEL“You and I need to talk.” The words tear out of me the second she steps inside the house, my voice impatient, already threaded with the frustration that’s been coiling in my chest all day.I don’t give her time to react. My hand closes around her wrist, and I pull her back outside, toward
BETTYI walk into Harriette’s rose garden just as the morning sun settles high enough to warm the air without burning it.The scent of roses hangs thick around the gazebo, sweet and almost dizzying if you breathe in too deeply.I find her standing a few steps away from it, holding a small metal wat
NATHANIEL.By the time I step into the café Amanda asked me to meet at, I already know I am not fully here.Her text had sounded urgent, clipped in that way she only uses when something has gone wrong, and I came without thinking twice, even though I haven’t had the time to collect myself after the







