Chapter 5: The Hand That Pulls from the Darkness

The night in London felt colder than usual.

City lights shimmered beyond the tall glass windows of an exclusive lounge. Soft music played in the background, nearly drowned out by the quiet clink of glasses and hushed conversations.

Leonard Ashcroft sat in the corner, his body leaning back against a dark leather chair. A glass of whisky rested untouched before him. The ice had nearly melted, yet he hadn’t taken a single sip.

His gaze was empty.

As if his mind had been left somewhere else.

Footsteps approached.

A man sat across from Leonard without ceremony.

Sebastian Rowe—Leonard’s old friend. The only person close enough to see the side of him the world never did.

“You look like someone who just lost something,” Sebastian said casually, though his eyes studied Leonard sharply.

Leonard exhaled slowly. “More than that.”

Sebastian raised a brow. “I assume this is about Bella.”

The name hung in the air.

Heavy.

Leonard lowered his gaze for a moment, then said without emotion—

“I’m going to divorce her.”

Sebastian didn’t respond right away. He simply stared at Leonard for a few seconds, making sure he hadn’t misheard.

“You’re serious?”

Leonard finally picked up his glass, swirling the amber liquid before taking a sip.

“She will never be the same again.”

The answer came too quickly.

Too cold.

“And that’s your reason?” Sebastian asked quietly.

Leonard looked at him.

“You haven’t seen her,” Leonard continued. “You don’t know what condition she’s in now.”

“And?” Sebastian leaned back, his tone shifting. “Did you marry her for her face?”

Leonard didn’t answer.

But his silence… said enough.

Sebastian shook his head slowly.

“I’ve known you a long time, Leon. But this…” he exhaled, “…this isn’t you.”

“This is exactly me,” Leonard cut in. “I’ve just finally stopped pretending.”

The air between them tightened.

“I have responsibilities,” Leonard went on. “Family. The company. The legacy.”

“And all of that matters more than the woman who nearly died saving you?”

Leonard looked away.

“This isn’t about right or wrong,” he said flatly. “It’s about being realistic.”

Sebastian let out a short laugh.

“Realistic? You call abandoning your wife in that condition… realistic?”

Leonard didn’t react. He simply took another sip.

“Taking care of her won’t change anything. Surgeries, therapy… all of that just prolongs something that can’t be fixed.”

“Arabella can recover.”

“Not completely.”

“At least you should try.”

Leonard met Sebastian’s gaze. Something sharper flickered in his eyes.

“I don’t have time to try something uncertain.”

That sentence…

Ended everything.

Sebastian looked at the man in front of him.

And in that moment, he realized—

His friend had changed.

Or perhaps…

This was who Leonard truly was.

“In that case,” Sebastian said at last, quietly, “you didn’t just lose your wife that night.”

Leonard didn’t respond.

“…you lost yourself.”

But the words no longer reached him.

Because Leonard had already made his choice.

A few hours later.

The hospital had fallen silent again.

The long corridor was washed in cold white light. Footsteps echoed softly, evenly.

Sebastian stood at the far end, staring at the door to the hospital room. His hands clenched.

He didn’t enter right away.

As if giving himself time to think.

But the longer he stood there—

The clearer one thing became—

He couldn’t just walk away.

Finally, he stepped forward.

The door opened slowly.

And inside—

Arabella Whitmore lay on the bed. Her body was weak. Her face still covered in bandages.

But her eyes—

Were open.

And empty.

She turned her head slightly at the sound of the door.

Hope flickered for a moment.

Then faded.

“…not him,” she murmured softly.

Sebastian stopped a few steps from the bed.

“I’m not Leonard,” he said calmly.

Arabella looked at him.

“Sebastian?”

“Yes. It’s me.”

Arabella turned her gaze away.

“Why are you here?” Her voice was flat. Almost emotionless.

Sebastian drew a breath.

“To tell you something you may not want to hear.”

Arabella didn’t respond.

But she didn’t refuse, either.

“Do you know Leonard is going to divorce you?”

There was no gentle way to say it.

And Sebastian didn’t try.

Arabella closed her eyes. Tears slipped out once more.

“I know.”

Her answer was soft.

But steady.

“And you’re just going to accept it?” The question came out sharper than he intended.

Arabella let out a faint, hollow laugh.

“What can I do?” She opened her eyes again. Her gaze was steady—but empty. “Look at me. I don’t even know what my face looks like now.”

Her fingers moved slightly, as if to touch the bandages—but stopped midway.

“He doesn’t want to see me,” she continued. “Why should I force him?”

Sebastian watched her for a long moment.

He saw more than a victim.

He saw someone who…

Had almost lost everything.

“Because you don’t deserve to be treated like this.”

Arabella didn’t respond immediately.

But something in her eyes shifted.

Small.

But there.

Sebastian stepped closer. “He left you when you needed him most.”

His voice was low.

Controlled.

“But that’s not the end of your story.”

Arabella looked at him.

More focused now.

“Then what?”

Sebastian stopped right beside the bed.

His gaze was sharp—but not cruel.

“Then you rise. And you make him regret it.”

Arabella fell silent. Her breath caught.

Something inside her—

Moved.

But not yet strong enough.

“That won’t change anything,” she whispered.

“No.” Sebastian didn’t deny it. “But it will change you.”

Arabella closed her eyes for a moment. Leonard’s image surfaced again—but this time, not his smile.

Only his voice—

I’m going to divorce her.

The pain shifted.

No longer just a wound—

But something darker.

Arabella slowly opened her eyes.

Looking at Sebastian.

“If I accept… your help…” Her voice was still weak. But no longer fragile. “What do I have to do?”

Sebastian smiled faintly.

Not warm.

But the smile of someone who had just found direction.

He lowered his head slightly.

Then said softly—

“You have to die.”

Silence.

And Arabella’s world—

Stopped once again.

“…what do you mean?”