Chapter 123
The silence that follows Noah’s exit is deafening. The door slams shut, and the echo seems to vibrate through my bones, each thud of my heart louder than the last. The air conditioner burns, but even that feels too loud in the emptiness he’s left behind.
I drag in a trembling breath, pressing my hand against my chest as if I can calm the ache there. My throat burns from the words I threw at him, the accusation that drove him away. Maybe I went too far, but how could I not? How am I supposed to trust a man who told me to get rid of my baby?
I lean back against the pillow, eyes unfocused on the ceiling.
One of them is gone.
That leaves three.
Brook, whose jealousy and hatred runs deeper than she admits. Noah, whose anger and also hate have always burned too hot… And then there’s Joycelyn.
Could it really be her? But Jocelyn doesn’t have that much motive. If she wanted to do something, she would have already done it by now. Why wait for years after I got the promotion to try and take me out?
As much as I want to think it’s Jocelyn, it just doesn’t add up, and as much as I also want to suspect Noah, deep down I know it’s not him. He is an asshole, but he would never want me dead. Not because he cares but because he knows how attached his family is to me. If I were to die, it would hurt those he loves… So that leaves Brook. 1
Honestly, I wouldn’t put it past her. Wasn’t there a time she almost drowned me in high school because she wanted me to stay away from Chloe and Noah? If it weren’t for Lilly coming in time, I would have died that day. Thinking of that day still gives me the chills. 1
I shake my head, trying to chase the memory away, but the unease clings to me like a shadow. I grip the blanket tightly, forcing air into my lungs until the world stops spinning. I’ve already survived once. Whoever wants me gone won’t get another chance.
The door creaks open, and I nearly jump.
A nurse steps in, a kind–looking woman with tired eyes and a clipboard clutched against her chest. “Miss
Meyers,” she says softly, smiling. “Just checking in. How are you feeling p>
I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. “Better,” I lie. “A little sore, but I’ll live p>
She chuckles lightly as she checks the IV drip. “That’s what I like to hear. You’ve made good progress. A stronger heartbeat and your color’s coming back. You’ll be out of here before you know it p>
“Mom mentioned that earlier,” I say. “She said I might be discharged tomorrow p>
“That’s right.” The nurse nods, noting something down. “Excited to go home p>
I shrug faintly. “Yes p>
As much as I trusted Mom and Lilly to take care of Blackie, I want to be the one to do it, and I miss her so much.
“Understandable,” she says with a gentle smile. “It’ll be good to be somewhere familiar. It will even help with your healing p>
We make small talk for a few minutes–about the weather, about how I can’t wait to shower without worrying about an IV stand. She laughs softly, the kind of sound that eases the tension in my chest. When she finally says goodbye, I feel a little lighter.
The door clicks shut and I’m drowned in silence again.
I exhale and sink into the pillows, closing my eyes. My body aches with exhaustion, but my mind refuses to quiet. I can still feel Noah’s anger in the air, the echo of his footsteps fading down the hall.
A few minutes pass. Maybe five. Maybe ten. Then the door opens again.
I glance up, expecting the same nurse, but it’s not. It’s a different nurse.
It’s a different woman this time. Her hair is tucked neatly under her cap, and there’s a mask covering the lower half of her face. Only her eyes are visible.
Something about them makes my stomach twist. I don’t know what it is. Maybe it’s those dark unreadable eyes, or maybe it the heavy energy surrounding her, but either way, something feels off.
“Forgot something,” she says in a quiet voice, holding up a small tray. “Another batch of injections p>
“Oh,” I murmur, though confusion prickles at the back of my neck. “The other nurse didn’t mention anything about that p>
She doesn’t respond. Just steps closer, her movements too deliberate, too calm. My heart starts to race again.
“What’s… what’s that for?” I ask, my voice trembling slightly.
She doesn’t answer.
Her gloved hands move quickly, picking up the syringe filled with a yellowish liquid.
My pulse spikes. “Hey,” I say, trying to keep my tone steady. “Can you tell me what that’s for p>
Still nothing.
My instincts scream at me that something isn’t right.
“I don’t think…” I start, but before I can finish, she grabs my wrist and pulls it toward the IV line.
Panic explodes in my chest. “Stop! What are you doing p>
“It’s okay,” she says softly, her tone eerily calm. “This will make you better p>
“No!” I try to pull back, but her grip tightens painfully. “Get away from me p>
I scream, but her hand shoots up, clamping over my mouth. She then jumps on the bed, her weight crashes down on me, and she uses her legs to pin my hands to the bed. I scream under her hand as the pain from my broken arm shoots up my arm.
My IV stand rattles violently as I struggle, thrashing beneath her, but with my exhausted and medicated body, it is useless.
“Stop fighting,” she hisses, pressing her knees into my arms. “It’ll be over soon p>
Her words are like ice.
I kick and twist, my muffled screams growing louder, but she’s strong. Pain shoots up my arm as the yellow liquid snakes into the IV tube, disappearing into my veins.
A sharp, burning sensation rips through my chest. My heart spasms once, twice.
My vision blurs and my limbs go heavy, my body refusing to respond. I can barely breathe. My chest feels like it’s caving in, each heartbeat slower than the last.
The nurse leans close, her mask brushing against my ear. “Sweet dreams,” she whispers.
The last thing I see before the darkness swallows me whole is her face–her hand pulling down the mask, revealing a twisted, triumphant smile. (1