Cruel Laughter

Chapter Two

The world returned in fragments.

First, the sterile scent of disinfectant.

Then, the sharp sting of a light too bright against my eyelids.

Voices floated above me, muffled and distorted, as though I were trapped beneath water.

“She’s stable,” a man said softly. I caught the faint rustle of papers. “Weak… most likely stress-induced collapse. Her vitals are erratic, but she’ll recover with rest.”

Stress. That word again. Always stress. Always my fault. Never anything more.

I forced my eyes open. The ceiling glared down at me, plain, sterile, and endless. The rhythmic beeping of a monitor pulsed beside me, steady but unnerving.

I turned my head slowly, the movement heavy, and found the doctor standing near the bed with a clipboard. His face carried the practiced calm of a man who had seen too many people break.

“Mrs. Cobbs,” he said gently. “You need to avoid strain. Whatever situation you’re under, your body is telling you it cannot handle more. You must rest, or...”

“I’ll break,” I whispered, finishing for him.

His eyes softened. “Exactly. I’ll prescribe something to calm your nerves, to help with the dizziness. But please, do not ignore your limits. Your body will only forgive so much.”

He did not know. None of them ever knew.

How could they? How could a stranger understand the weight of a husband’s betrayal announced before the world, the sharp burn of gossip still echoing through glittering halls, the way Elizabeth Sterl’s smile felt like a knife twisting between my ribs?

What medicine could fix a humiliation filmed and shared across every screen in the city?

Before I could gather my thoughts, the door creaked open. The sound was small, but it cut through me. My body stiffened instinctively.

Daniel.

He filled the doorway, tall and sharp in a tailored suit that whispered money and power. His expression was unreadable, sculpted into a mask of indifference. To the world, he looked like a man who owned it all.

To me, he was the man who had ripped the ground out from under me with a single public declaration.

And trailing behind him, her heels clicking with maddening precision, was Elizabeth. Of course.

The doctor cleared his throat, as though my husband’s presence carried weight even in a room meant for healing.

“Mr. Cobbs, your wife...”

“She’s fine,” Daniel cut in smoothly. His tone was cool and dismissive. “She always is.”

My lips trembled. My throat formed his name before my mind could stop it.

“Daniel…”

He stepped closer, his shadow falling across me like a curtain. The doctor, clearly uncomfortable, placed a small bottle of pills on the side table and murmured something about dosage.

He excused himself quickly, shutting the door behind him. The silence that followed was far heavier.

Daniel’s hand shot out. He snatched the bottle from the table, weighed it in his palm for a heartbeat, then hurled it onto the bed. The plastic burst open. Pills scattered across the sheets and clattered onto the floor, rolling in every direction.

“Pathetic,” he hissed. His voice was low, dangerous. “Collapsing like some fragile doll, making me look like the villain. Was that your plan, Ava? To fake weakness in front of everyone, to claw at sympathy from people who matter more than you ever could?”

The words sliced into me, cruel and precise.

“I didn’t…” My voice cracked against my will. “I didn’t fake anything. I…” The tears burned hot as I swallowed them back. “I could not breathe, Daniel. My chest...”

“Save it,” he cut in sharply. “I know you. You live for attention. Always playing the victim. Always trying to turn the story in your favor. Did you think this stunt would change my mind? Did you think anyone looked at you and felt pity?”

His eyes were steel. Unforgiving. He wanted to believe I was acting, because the truth, that I was breaking, would not suit his pride.

Then came the sound I dreaded most.

Laughter.

Soft. Feminine. Cruel.

Elizabeth.

She leaned lazily against the wall, her arms folded, her eyes glinting like glass.

“She is very convincing, Daniel,” she said sweetly, her tone dripping with venom. “If I did not know any better, I might almost believe her.”

Her lips curved as if mocking my pain was a private joke meant only for them.

Daniel’s jaw twitched, and for the briefest second, satisfaction flickered across his face. He didn’t look at me like his wife. He looked at me like a nuisance, a liability, an obstacle already being removed.

My fingers curled into the sheets until my nails bit into my palms. I felt something crack inside me, but alongside that fracture, something else began to stir.

A burn. A spark.

Elizabeth’s voice floated again, cutting into me like glass.

“She will not last much longer. Look at her. She can barely sit up. Do you really want the world to think you are still tied to this?”

She gestured toward me as though I were less than human, as though I were some broken object she would have tossed in the trash.

Daniel’s eyes followed her gesture, and for a breath, I thought I saw contempt so sharp it could kill.

“I made a mistake,” he muttered, not even to me. To himself. To her. “I should have ended this sooner.”

Elizabeth smirked. “Then end it completely.”

My chest tightened, but my body refused to break further. I would not give them that.

I pressed my hands against the mattress, forcing myself upright despite the dizziness that screamed at me. My vision swayed, but I held on.

Daniel’s gaze snapped to me, a flicker of surprise crossing his cold face.

“I am not weak,” I whispered. My voice trembled, but the words were iron. “And I am not done.”

Elizabeth’s laugh rang out again, louder this time, sharp as glass breaking.

“Listen to her. Trying to sound strong when she can barely sit.”

Daniel’s lips curved, not with amusement but with something darker.

He stepped closer until the bed creaked under his weight. His hand came down suddenly, gripping my jaw so tight I thought he might shatter it. His breath brushed my ear, low and venomous.

“You belong on the floor, Ava. That is where I put you, and that is where you will stay.”

The pressure of his grip sent fire down my neck. My vision blurred with tears, but inside, something hardened.

If they wanted me destroyed, they would have to try harder. Much harder.

Because I would not die on this bed.

And I would not die as Daniel Cobbs’ discarded wife.