The Aftermath
Pain was Emma’s first conscious sensation. It radiated through her body in waves, making even the simple act of breathing a challenge. The steady beeping of hospital monitors provided a rhythm to her suffering, each tone marking another moment of survival.
Through the haze of medication and trauma, her first coherent thought was of her baby. Her hand moved instinctively to her stomach, but the movement sent sharp daggers of pain through her side.
“Don’t try to move,” Alex’s voice came from somewhere nearby, strained with exhaustion and something else – fear, perhaps, or guilt. “The doctors say you need to stay completely still.”
Emma forced her eyes open, the harsh fluorescent lights assaulting her vision. Alex sat beside her bed, his usual immaculate appearance completely undone. His suit jacket was discarded, tie loose, dark circles shadowing his eyes. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days.
“The baby?” she managed to whisper, her throat raw.
Alex’s hand found hers, gentle despite the tension evident in his frame. “Stable, for now. They’re monitoring closely. Dr. Smith says the next forty-eight hours are critical.”
Emma closed her eyes against sudden tears. The memory of falling, of that horrible moment of weightlessness, crashed over her. She had twisted desperately as she fell, trying to protect her stomach, but the impact…
“You’ve been unconscious for eighteen hours,” Alex continued, his voice rough. “They said… they weren’t sure…” He stopped, unable to continue.
His voice cracked, and for the first time, she saw a flicker of raw vulnerability in his eyes. He looked down, clenching his jaw tightly as he continued. “Emma, I… I’m so sorry.”
She looked at him, taking in the sorrow and guilt that shadowed his expression. Her anger and frustration simmered just below the surface, but her own exhaustion prevented her from unleashing it. Instead, she simply nodded, too weary to respond.
The door opened and Jack walked in, a grim expression on his face. He looked between Emma and Alex, giving Emma a nod of reassurance before setting a bag down on a chair.
“I’ve arranged for additional security,” he said quietly. “They’re already posted outside. No one comes in or out without clearance. And I mean no one, Alex. I’m not risking Emma’s safety again.”
Alex nodded, his face darkening. “Thank you, Jack. We can’t afford any mistakes this time.” Alex’s voice was hard. “And the police?”
“Marcus is handling it. He’s gathering security footage, witness statements…” Jack paused, glancing at Emma. “They’ll want to talk to you when you’re stronger.”
Emma turned her head slightly, noting the two suited men visible through the door’s window. A third security guard patrolled the hallway, speaking quietly into an earpiece.
“She’s here,” Jack said suddenly, his posture stiffening. “In the waiting room, playing the concerned friend to perfection.”
Alex’s hand tightened on Emma’s. “Victoria?”
“Brought flowers. Crying about how she ‘should have noticed something was wrong’ before the accident.”
Emma closed her eyes again, the weight of unspoken truth heavy in her chest.
Before that she sensed a shared determination between them, but she could tell Jack’s anger ran deeper. He’d always been protective of her, but she’d never seen this level of intensity before. He glanced at her, his expression softening.
“Emma, I need you to know that we’re doing everything we can to find out what happened,” he said, his voice laced with a quiet fury. “Marcus has already started looking into the details of last night, pulling security footage and gathering evidence.”
She forced herself to nod, her mind still reeling. She appreciated their efforts, but part of her knew that the truth, if spoken aloud, would be twisted and buried by the Barrett family’s influence. She’d need more than suspicions if she wanted anyone to believe her.
As if summoned by her thoughts, Marcus appeared in the doorway, his sharp gaze assessing the room before he approached her bedside.
“Emma,” he greeted her gently. “I’m glad to see you awake. I’ll keep this brief, but… we’re starting an investigation into what happened. There were no witnesses, but we’re reviewing any available footage and speaking to anyone who might have seen something suspicious.” His voice dropped, his expression darkening. “We’ll find out who did this.”
Emma felt the weight of his words and tried to muster a small smile, though it was clear her injuries made even that effort painful.
“Thank you, Marcus,” she murmured, grateful for his loyalty. She had no doubt he would work tirelessly to get to the bottom of what had happened, but she wasn’t sure even he could expose Victoria’s true intentions.
Over the next few days, her room became a command center of sorts. Alex refused to leave except when forced to by medical staff, working remotely from a makeshift office in the corner. Jack coordinated with her medical team, bringing in specialists and monitoring her recovery with brotherly devotion. Marcus came and went, each visit bringing new pieces of evidence, new witness statements, new threads to unravel.
Through it all, Victoria maintained her performance as the perfect concerned friend. Her visits were carefully timed, always when others were present, her designer outfits and perfect makeup a stark contrast to Emma’s hospital gown and bruises.
“I just can’t stop thinking about it,” Victoria would say, her voice trembling with practiced emotion. “If only I’d noticed you weren’t feeling well that day…”
Emma’s fingers tightened around the bedsheets, forcing herself to remain calm.
“I’ll be alright,” Emma replied, her voice steady. “Thank you for… stopping by.”
Victoria placed another bouquet on the table beside her bed, her gaze flickering over Emma with a feigned look of sympathy. “You’re so strong, Emma. I’m sure the stress of the office must have been overwhelming. I just hope you’re not blaming yourself for any of this.”
The subtle implication in Victoria’s words was unmistakable, and Emma’s blood boiled. But she forced herself to stay composed, refusing to give Victoria the satisfaction of a reaction.
One afternoon, Jack arrived with a thick folder, his expression grim. He waited until they were alone – Alex having finally been convinced to go home and shower – before spreading the documents across Emma’s bed.
“Psychiatric evaluations from 2019,” he explained quietly. “Police reports that were buried. Witness statements that disappeared. There’s a pattern, Emma. A long, detailed pattern of obsessive behavior, carefully covered up by money and influence.”
Emma studied the documents, her analytical mind noting dates, correlations, repeated phrases. “How many?”
“At least six that we can confirm. All women who got close to Alex. All systematically destroyed or driven away. The family kept it quiet, paid people off, made it all disappear.”
“And now?”
“Now we have proof. Real, documented proof of what she’s capable of.” Jack leaned forward. “Emma, you have to tell them it was her. The police, Alex – they need to hear it from you.”
Emma was saved from responding by Alex’s return. He looked marginally better, though the worry hadn’t left his eyes.
“Tell me what?” he asked, noting the scattered documents.
Jack gathered the papers quickly. “I’ll let you two talk,” he said, squeezing Emma’s hand before leaving.
Silence filled the room as Alex took his usual place beside her bed. “The police want to know why there were no witnesses,” he said finally. “Why none of the security cameras in that section were working. Why were you even in that part of the building.”
Emma said nothing.
“The doctors say you’re lucky to be alive. That’s the way you feel… It wasn’t accidental. Someone pushed you.” His voice cracked slightly. “Why won’t you tell me who did this?”
Emma turned to look at him, really look at him. She saw the man she’d grown to love, but also the man who’d been blind to Victoria’s true nature for so long. Who’d chosen to believe the carefully constructed image rather than see the darkness beneath.
“Because you wouldn’t believe me if I did,” she whispered.
