When We Crashed, My Boyfriend Shielded Another Woman Instead of Me

"Enough. Stop talking." I swallowed hard against the nausea, my voice icy. "Take me to the hospital."

When I didn't respond, Zach visibly relaxed, but his voice quickly turned firm again. "I'll take you to the hospital, but Lily's only two exits away. I'll drop her off first. It'll only take a few extra minutes. You've always been understanding, Eva. Don't make a big deal out of this."

I leaned back in the passenger seat and closed my eyes.

Zach took my silence as agreement.

He started the car and, with practiced ease, took a detour to drop Lily off.

He opened the door for her, helped her out, and picked up her bag. He thought of everything.

Meanwhile, I sat alone in the passenger seat, the blood on my forehead slowly crusting over.

Lily stood by the car door with a hand pressed to her chest. "Zach, Eva's not going to be mad at me, is she? Maybe you should hurry up and take her to the hospital..."

Zach ruffled her hair and reassured her, "Of course not. Eva's tough. She doesn't make a fuss over little things like this. Don't worry about it."

Five minutes later, Zach finally got back in the car and drove me to the hospital downtown.

Check-in. Insurance paperwork. Wound care.

The doctor cleaned the cut on my forehead, his expression grim. "The cut itself isn't too bad—just two stitches. But you took a hard hit, and you have a mild concussion. I'd like to keep you overnight for observation to make sure there's no bleeding in the brain."

I nodded. "Okay. I'll stay."

Zach stood to one side, watching the doctor fill out the paperwork. He began to frown.

His phone kept buzzing in his pocket. After checking it several times, he turned to me, irritation creeping into his voice. "Eva, the doctor said the cut isn't serious, and the concussion should clear up in a couple of days. Something urgent came up at work. I need to take care of it." He pulled a few bills from his wallet and pressed them into my hand. "You can handle the admission yourself. I'll come back when I'm done." Then he turned and walked away.

I watched him disappear down the hall, the bills still clutched in my hand, and gave a bitter smile.

The boy who had once shielded me belonged to the past.

...

The hospital room was quiet except for the steady drip of my IV.

I lay in bed. My forehead throbbed, but my mind was clearer than it had been in five years.

I took out my phone and made a call.

A warm, steady voice came through the phone. "Evie? Isn't today your fifth anniversary with that boy? Why are you calling me at this hour?"

"Dad." I took a deep breath. "Cancel the six-million-dollar investment I asked you to arrange for Zach's company."

On the other end of the line, my father, Henry Lowell, chairman of the Lowell Group, fell silent for a few seconds.

After decades at the top of the business world, he knew better than to ask questions that didn't need answers.

"Finally figured it out?" There was no surprise in his voice, only quiet understanding and concern.

"I figured it out." I stared at the harsh white ceiling light. "He's not worth hiding who I am just to play pretend and build a life from scratch with him."

"All right. I'll have the legal team shut down the investment review immediately. He won't see a cent." My father agreed without hesitation, then added gently, "Now that that's settled, come work for the family business. Our overseas branch has an asset restructuring project coming up. Spend a year abroad, learn the ropes, and when you come back, you'll take over from me."

"All right. I'll leave it to you."