All Chapters of His Return, My Ruin: Chapter 91 - Chapter 100

CHAPTER 91The heavy doors of the restaurant finally closed behind us. The valet brought the SUV around, the headlights cutting through the damp evening mist like surgical lasers.Inside the car, the silence was immediate and heavy. In the back, tucked into his car seat, Sam was a motionless silhouette, finally defeated by the day. Isaac gripped the steering wheel at the ten-and-two position, his knuckles white enough to glow in the dashboard light."Well," I said, leaning my head against the cool glass of the window. "That was exactly as exhausting as I predicted."Isaac didn’t look at me. He shifted the car into gear and pulled out onto the main road with a jerk that made the seatbelts lock. "My mother thinks you’re undermining her, Tasha. She told me you looked like you were looking for an excuse to leave the table.""I wasn't looking for an excuse, Isaac. I was being a parent.""A parent?" Isaac let out a sharp, jagged laugh. "You were being a martyr. You let Sam dictate the flow

I felt a hysterical laugh bubble up in my throat, bitter and acidic. "It’s fascinating that you’re playing the 'wronged husband' now. Who sent me to him, Isaac? Who was so incompetent, so desperate after gambling away the firm’s liquidity, that he told his wife to 'do whatever it takes' to get Jaden to negotiate that accord? You threw me at him like a piece of meat to save your own skin. You didn't care about my dignity then. You didn't care if I crawled into his bed as long as the checks cleared. Now you want to talk about morality? You’re a hypocrite and a failure. Every time I think you’ve hit rock bottom, you find a way to sink lower."Isaac’s face turned a terrifying, bruised purple. The air in the room seemed to vanish. I watched his nostrils flare, his chest heaving with a rage that had finally snapped its leash. I saw the movement—the blur of his hand rising—and I knew it was coming. I squeezed my eyes shut, bracing for the impact.The blow caught me across the left cheek. It

My eyes, against their will, find the silent Isaac.“Sam had training at two. Who drove him?”"I left him with my parents, Tasha." His voice is muffled but full of a desire to please. "Don't worry."I glance back at Dr. Turner, about to ask her a question, but I lose consciousness and collapse against the wall. My neck feels stiff and difficult to move. I lift my hand and carefully feel my scalp. Instead of hair, I feel the ribbed texture of the bandage."We'll remove it in a couple of days," the doctor says helpfully, her tone becoming more businesslike. “Miss Fury, the police would like to ask you a few questions about the incident. You're still too weak to talk, so I won't let anyone in for now, but we'll have to talk eventually. If you don't have any questions for me, I'll leave you with your husband." Turning to Isaac, she lowers her voice slightly. "Your wife needs to focus all her energy on her recovery, so try not to tire her out by talking too much."She walks out the door, a

Half an hour later, Dr. Turner swept into the room, his brow furrowed as he reviewed my chart. He spoke in the clipped, clinical tones of a man used to delivering bad news, mentioning my dangerously low hemoglobin and severe anemia. When I pressed him for a discharge date, he offered only a vague, non-committal remark about "continued monitoring" before vanishing back into the sterile hallway.Breakfast arrived—tasteless and lukewarm—but it was the bouquet on the windowsill that truly offended me. Its scent was cloying, a pompous explosion of lilies that felt like a mockery of my sterile surroundings. When the nurse returned for the tray, I asked her to remove them immediately. I ignored her puzzled expression, turning my face toward the window until the heavy fragrance finally faded from the room. My phone sat charging on the nightstand, and my bag—likely brought by Isaac—rested in the chair, but the energy required to reach them felt monumental. I told myself I’d call my mother late

My father arrived mid-morning, bringing with him a gust of fresh air and a deliberate, cheerful ignorance of the antiseptic smell of my room. He spent a solid half hour entertaining me with stories about his afternoon at the park with Sam. It was a masterclass in deflection; he navigated the conversation like a minefield, carefully stepping around any mention of my monitors or the reason I was stuck in this bed."You should have seen him yesterday, kid," my father said, leaning back in the rigid plastic visitor’s chair. "We went down to the creek to look for those flat skipping stones. Sam found one the size of a dinner plate and insisted it was a 'dinosaur fossil.' He carried that thing for three blocks before he realized his arms weren't long enough to keep hold of it."I leaned back against my pillows, a small smile tugging at my mouth. "Did he make you carry it the rest of the way?""Of course he did," my father chuckled, his eyes softening. "But he’s getting so tall. He’s got tha