The Billionaire's Regret After I Died
When I finally opened my eyes again, I caught my reflection in the metal tray beside the bed.
The right side of my face was covered in gauze, but even through the wrappings, I could see the extent of the damage underneath. My cheekbone was swollen and uneven, a deep red scar running from the corner of my jaw up to my temple. My arm was no better, stiff and wrapped from wrist to shoulder.
A quiet sob escaped before I could stop it. I looked at George, pleading for some good news.
George turned away slightly and didn’t dare to look at me. “The beam must’ve hit you when the roof started to collapse,” he said quietly. “Your face, your arm… I’m sorry.”