The Paralyzed Billionaire and his nurse: A love story
The expensive chronograph fell, clattering loudly against the hardwood floor, the glass crystal fracturing into a web of tiny silver cracks.
That small, insignificant sound—the breaking of a piece of glass—was the final blow that shattered the dam.
A sudden, sharp sob tore from my chest, a sound so raw, so guttural and foreign, that it didn't even sound like it belonged to me. My knees, already weakened by the lingering poison of the sedative, completely gave out. I collapsed heavily onto the floor beside the bed, my back sliding down the wooden paneling until I was curled into a ball on the carpet, my face buried in my hands.
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