Todos os capítulos de Serving My Husband His Own Medicine : Capítulo 41 - Capítulo 50

Hannah's POV. The living room was dark, filled only with the shaky, blue light coming from the television screen. I was lying on the sofa, my body feeling like it was made of lead and broken glass. My leg was a nightmare. The burn from the tea Grace had poured on my cast was a constant, biting heat that felt like a thousand needles were stuck under the plaster. It was a rhythmic, hot throb that matched the beating of my heart. I felt like a discarded rag, something dirty and useless that someone had tossed into a corner and forgotten about.Daniel was sitting in his favorite leather armchair, a beer bottle dangling from his fingers. His phone was in his other hand, the screen lighting up his face in a way that made his smile look twisted. Upstairs, I could hear Grace. She was putting Samuel to bed, and her laughter came down the hallway in short, sharp bursts. It sounded like a taunt, a reminder that she was the one with the child, the husband, and the healthy body.I didn't move. I

Alex's POVThe hospital suite was too quiet. It didn't feel like a room where someone had nearly died; it felt like a showroom for expensive furniture. The air was filtered and chilled to a precise temperature, carrying the faint, sterile scent of bleach and expensive lilies. Sunlight hit the polished marble floor in long, sharp blocks.My mother sat by the window, her silhouette framed by the glass. She was tapping away at her tablet, her face a mask of calm, corporate focus. She looked up when she heard me shift against the pillows, her eyes scanning my face for any sign of a memory returning."You're awake, Alexander. Good. The doctor says your vitals are finally stabilizing. We might be able to move you to the estate by the weekend.""The estate?" I rasped. My throat felt like it was full of dry sand. "Why not my apartment? I have meetings. The Sterling merger...""Alexander," my mother interrupted, her voice soft but firm, like a velvet glove over a fist. "We’ve discussed this. I

Hannah’s POVThe smell of roasted lamb and expensive rosemary filled the house, but all I could taste was the metallic tang of my own blood where I’d bitten my lip to stop the shivering. I was a wreck. My hair was a matted, damp nest of knots, still smelling of the gray mop water Grace had dumped on me. My gown was a wet rag clinging to my skin, and the chill from the floor had settled deep into my bones, turning my breath into shaky, shallow hitches."Keep your head down, Hannah," Grace whispered, leaning over my wheelchair to adjust my collar with a mock-tenderness that made my skin crawl. "And try not to drip on the rug. It’s new."Daniel kicked the back of my chair, a sharp, jarring motion that sent a spike of agony through my broken leg. I gasped, clutching the silver tray in my lap. The crystal glasses rattled against each other, a frantic, glass-on-glass sound that matched my heartbeat."Move," Daniel commanded.He rolled me into the dining room. The light was blinding. At the

Alexander’s POVMy head felt like it had been stuffed with dry cotton and set on fire. Every time I tried to reach for a memory, it felt like trying to catch smoke with my bare hands. I sat upright in the hospital bed, the white sheets tangled around my legs. The room was too quiet. It was that kind of quiet that makes your ears ring.I looked at the tablet resting on the bedside table. My father, Arthur, had left it there. He said it was for "work," but I knew he just wanted me to stop staring at the ceiling. I picked it up, the screen glowing bright enough to make me squint.I didn't know who I was. Not really. I knew I was Alexander Mercer. I knew I ran a company that moved billions of dollars. I knew I had a mother who looked at me like I was a prize horse and a "fiancée" named Vivienne who smelled like expensive flowers and felt like a stranger’s touch.But there was a hole in the middle of my chest. A shape that didn't fit Vivienne.My finger hovered over the glass. I was lookin

Hannah’s POVThe hospital hallway was a blur of fluorescent lights and the sharp, chemical smell of antiseptic that always made my stomach turn. They wouldn't let me stay in the room. Two nurses had gently but firmly wheeled me toward a small waiting area while they rushed Alexander behind a set of double doors.I sat in that metal chair, my hands shaking so much I had to tuck them under my thighs to make them stop. I was still wearing that damp, ruined gown. I still had the grime of Daniel’s house on my skin. But for the first time in three years, the air didn't feel like it was trying to choke me."Hannah?"I looked up. Arthur Mercer was standing there. The man who ruled an empire looked like he had aged ten years in a single night. His tie was loose, his hair was messy, and his eyes were red. He didn't look at my wheelchair with pity. He looked at me like I was the only thing holding his world together."He’s stable," Arthur said, his voice thick. He sat down in the plastic chair n