Every scene kept replaying itself in front of my eyes like I was in the cinema over and over again. Each one of them hit me like electric waves.
The argument with Marcus echoed in my ears.
"You're nothing but a worthless, gold-digging woman"
"You enjoyed dancing with him, didn't you?"
"Don't lie to me, Camilla. I saw the way you looked at him, the way you smiled. You enjoyed it,"
"And you're a naive little girl, thinking you can defy me and get away with it!"
I could feel his laughter like he was right beside me. The laughter that irritated me. My brain was still in the car. It felt like it was coming at us again. I suddenly opened my eyes.
The hurtful words he spat at me cut sharply more than a knife. The overwhelming anger that consumed him, the reckless drive fueled by his fury, and the horrifying collision—all the events leading up to this moment flashed before my eyes in rapid succession.
The pain in my body intensified, but the emotional turmoil was even more overwhelming.
I gasped for breath, my heart pounding in my chest as I struggled to make sense of my surroundings. The place felt suffocating, the sterile smell of disinfectants and the soft hum of machines creating an unsettling atmosphere.
My body felt heavy, each movement sending waves of pain through me, but I couldn't focus on the physical discomfort when my mind was in such chaos.
Then, suddenly, my eyes shot open, widening with a mix of fear and confusion. My breaths were unstable, coming in short gasps as I tried to comprehend the gravity of the situation.
The beeping of the machines only added to my distress, creating an incessant reminder of how fragile life was. One mistake and it could be taken away. Despite all that I had gone through all this time, I still didn't want to die.
"Easy now, take deep breaths," the nurse by my side said soothingly, her voice a gentle anchor in the chaos of my mind. "You're in a hospital. You've been through a lot, but you're safe now."
Her words were meant to be comforting, but they only served to heighten my anxiety. Safe? How could I be safe when my life had spiraled into turmoil? My thoughts swirled like a tempest, trying to piece together the events that led me to this moment.
"Where's Marcus?" I managed to choke out, my voice trembling.
The nurse's expression softened with sympathy, her eyes conveying a deep understanding of the pain I was experiencing. "Your husband is also here in the hospital, but his condition is more critical. He's unconscious and has suffered serious injuries."
The news struck me like a blow to the chest. Despite everything, a part of me still cared about him, and the thought of him hurt and unconscious was difficult to process. After all, he was human.
Still lost in my emotion, the image of those dark green eyes flashed in my mind once more, and a strange sense of comfort washed over me.
"Who was the person with the green eyes?" I asked urgently, my voice shaky.
The nurse looked puzzled for a moment, then smiled gently. "I'm not sure, dear. Maybe it was one of the first responders or someone who witnessed the accident."
As I lay back, trying to process everything, my body trembled with exhaustion and fear. The nurse assured me that the doctors were doing their best to stabilize both me and Marcus, but the uncertainty of the situation weighed heavily on my mind.
I had never gotten into an accident before.
"What about the victim from the other car?" I whispered, dreading the answer.
"Unfortunately," she sighed, "He is no more," she answered, the sadness evident in her tone. My eyes widened with shock, causing her to repeat herself in a softer tone.
"It appears that he lost consciousness as his car rolled forward."
My heart quivered. If this was the case, it could mean that Marcus had killed him. Or maybe it will stay as an accident since both of them were at fault.
"He lost too much blood and his head was hit badly," The nurse explained.
"May his soul rest in peace." I sighed heavily. "Thank you, nurse," I couldn't even force a smile. I needed time to process everything that had happened and come to terms with the tragedy of what could've been.
Today I was alive, but what if that is a warning? What if this was a sign for me to do something? What if his anger was meant to get me killed?
My attention was brought to reality when several doctors and watchmen stood outside my door, followed by a bunch of people holding cameras, mikes, phones, and more devices.
The paparazzi.
They were like vultures, eager to get a piece of the story, to exploit my vulnerability in this moment of crisis. I could see them gathering outside the hospital, cameras flashing, and reporters shouting out questions.
The nurse tried her best to shield me from the intrusions, drawing the curtains around my bed to block their view. But their voices still reached my ears, their hurtful questions piercing through the already fragile walls I had built around myself.
"Mrs. Del Monte, is it true that you only married Marcus for his wealth? Did you use him to save your mother?"
"Did you dance with Alejandro Montellia at the ball last night because you have feelings for him?"
"Are the rumors true that you were involved with multiple men at the ball and that Marcus found you together with Alejandro Montellia?"
"Camilla, is it true that you married Marcus only to save your mother from financial ruin?"
"Did you ever love Marcus, or was it all just a marriage of convenience?"
"Rumors are circulating that you were seen dancing intimately with Alejandro Montellia at the masquerade ball. Care to comment on your relationship with him?"
"Camilla, some are saying that you were responsible for the accident that landed you and Marcus in the hospital. Care to set the record straight?"
How dare they make such baseless accusations, twisting the truth and exploiting my pain for their gain? They knew nothing about the depths of my suffering, the sacrifices I had made, or the tangled web of emotions that had led me to this point.
"I have nothing to say to the press," I managed to reply, my voice quivering with emotion. "Please respect my privacy in this difficult time."
"Some people say you brought yourself close to Mr. Montellia because you knew he would take the award of the richest youth. Can you say anything about that?"
The voices became annoying. They produced painful echoes in my head. They hit my chest with a stone and they were like rays that burnt my flesh. The pain only intensified. I wanted to run. Or maybe hide. Or just kill them all.
I closed my ears with my hands, but I could still hear them. The cameras kept producing sounds and flashlights, indicating that they would have a memory of this vulnerable time for me. And maybe tomorrow I was going to be in the first paper of the magazine.
But then, just as the pressure seemed unbearable, a furious voice rang out from behind. "That's enough!"
I slowly opened the curtains just enough to see the blonde hair. Tall guy. The grey suit that drew his body perfectly screamed one person.
Alejandro Montellia. His face turned to mine. The green eyes were his. He then turned to the paparazzi with fury evident in his eyes,
"Get out of here before you lose your licenses!"