Chapter 233
Chapter 233:
Through his blurred, tear-filled vision, the computer screen saver shifted, revealing a second file dated one week after the surgery.
Cole dragged himself back to the desk and clicked it open.
Emergency Readmission. Patient suffered severe external lacerations and blunt force trauma to the healing surgical site. Resulting in secondary hemorrhage and torn sutures.
Every muscle in Cole’s body went rigid.
He remembered the night she came home from the hospital. How pale she had been. How cold. How she had refused to look at him. His pride had taken it as rejection. He had pushed her down onto the mattress, used his physical strength to pin her arms, and forced himself on her — demanding what he called his rights as a husband, indifferent to her tears, indifferent to her silence.
He had not been asserting dominance.
He had raped a woman who had just lost her child and had her organs cut open.
The realization was the final, lethal blow.
𝗝𝘰і𝗇 t𝗵ou𝘴𝗮𝘯𝗱𝘀 оf 𝗳𝘢𝗻𝘴 𝗈ո
Cole let out a cry of pure agony and drove his fists into his own head, shattered completely by the full, horrifying weight of what he had done.
The subterranean archive room was a tomb.
The only sound was the harsh, erratic rasp of Cole’s breathing. He sat on the freezing linoleum floor with his back pressed against the metal casing of a server rack, his expensive suit covered in dust and his own vomit. His eyes were wide open and utterly empty, staring at the ceiling. The crushing weight of his sins had paralyzed him completely.
The heavy metal door clicked open.
A faint commotion filtered in from the hallway, followed by the Chief Administrator — pale, sweating — who swiped his master keycard and held the door open for the man stepping out of the shadows.
The slow, deliberate tap of expensive leather shoes against the floor broke the silence.
Crawford Love walked into the room, his immaculate cashmere overcoat undisturbed, the faint scent of rain and expensive cologne cutting through the stale hospital air. He stopped a few feet from Cole and looked down at the broken shell of the man on the floor. There was no pity in Crawford’s dark eyes — only the cold, measuring satisfaction of a judge watching a guilty verdict delivered.
“I see you found the reading material,” Crawford said. His voice was smooth, flat, and completely merciless.
Cole turned his head slowly. His eyes were raw and bloodshot, tears still leaking silently down his face.
“You knew,” Cole rasped, his voice barely above a whisper, his vocal cords scraped hollow from screaming. “You knew she almost died. Why didn’t you tell me p>
Crawford let out a short, sharp scoff of pure disgust.
“Tell you?” he repeated, crossing his arms. “So you could march into her hospital room with your arrogant, suffocating pity? So you could throw money at her and pretend to be a decent husband? You don’t deserve the privilege of knowing her pain p>