"Well, it seems because this is their first misdemeanor and, as much as the police fear the Black family, they can't afford to offend the Thompson family either. So, they've been released but will have to do two months of community service," he said without looking at me.
I clenched my fists, anger boiling inside me. The sheer injustice of it all was infuriating. I slapped the table, the sharp sound echoing in the room. My mind wrestled with conflicting emotions—disbelief at how lenient the punishment was, yet a grim understanding of how power dynamics worked in this city. The only real way to hurt the Thompsons was through their business, and that time would come. But not yet. I would wait for the perfect moment to make them pay—for everything.
~♤~
It has been three days since the incident. The Thompson siblings were released but, to avoid further complications, Elder Thompson made the swift decision to ship them off to America. Out of sight, out of mind. At least for now.
Good riddance. Their absence was a relief, even if it felt like a temporary fix. But it was one less immediate worry.
I've been spending most of my time at the hospital, only leaving to shower or for unavoidable meetings. The sterile hospital air has become familiar, almost like a second home, though I wished it weren't.
Selene's color is slowly returning. She no longer looks ghostly pale. Her bruises, while still a deep purple, are starting to fade at the edges. The doctors are optimistic—they say her blood is clear of the drug now, but it will take time for her body to fully recover. Time and rest.
I sit by her side, watching the slow rise and fall of her chest as she sleeps. She's fragile yet peaceful, a stark contrast to the lively, bubbly woman I've grown to know. Seeing her like this fills me with a deep sadness and a sharper anger. Anger at the Thompsons, anger at myself for letting this happen, and anger at Emma for dragging us into this mess.
I once thought marrying Selene was just a means to an end—a transaction for my inheritance, a way to fulfill family obligations. But these long hours by her bedside have changed something in me. I miss her laughter, her warmth, the way she brought light into the cold halls of my life. I never realized how much she mattered until now. And now, the thought of losing her terrifies me.
I sigh, running a hand through my hair. I was a fool. A fool for putting Emma above her, for letting petty vengeance blind me to what I had right in front of me. Selene deserves so much better than what I've given her.
As these thoughts swirl in my mind, a commotion outside the door pulls me from my reverie. Curious and slightly annoyed, I step out to investigate. A man stands there, arguing with the guards. He looks vaguely familiar, though I can't immediately place him.
"How is she?" he asks as soon as he sees me. His voice is urgent, filled with concern.
It takes me a moment to recognize him. He's the man who played Selene's date at that party—the one where I selfishly brought Emma instead of my own wife. The memory makes my stomach churn with guilt.
"She's better," I reply curtly. "Her body is healing."
He nods but doesn't respond. Instead, he steps past me and into the room, his eyes locking onto Selene's frail figure. He freezes for a moment at the door, then slowly walks toward her bed. I watch as he takes her hand gently, his face etched with pain.
We exchange a few words about what happened. I can see it in his eyes—he blames me for this. And he's not wrong. I blame myself too.
Selene is too kind, too sweet for the chaos my actions have brought into her life. In my petty quest to punish her for being the woman I was forced to marry, I lost sight of the fact that she was just as much a victim as I was. I can't imagine being torn from a quiet, small-town life and thrust into a world of schemes, power plays, and hatred. She didn't deserve any of it.
If she wakes up and decides she's done with me, I'll understand. I wouldn't blame her.
Feeling overwhelmed, I decide to leave the room, giving Selene and her friend some privacy. Grandma and Mrs. Smith are on their way, so I know she'll be in good hands. I head to the office, hoping to bury myself in work and escape my spiraling thoughts.
The moment I arrive, Emmet doesn't waste a second. He bombards me with updates, documents, and issues that require my attention. I dive into the pile of work, letting it consume me. Hours pass in a blur. When I finally look up, it's evening. Exhaustion weighs on me, but I decide to stop by home to shower before returning to the hospital.
Just as I reach my car, my phone buzzes. It's Grandma. My heart skips a beat.
"Grams," I answer, trying to keep my voice steady.
"Alex, she's awake!" Her voice is breathless, tinged with excitement and relief.
I don't hesitate. "Turn the car around," I order the driver. My heart pounds as we speed back to the hospital.
~♤~
The moment I step into her room, I see her sitting up in bed, a bowl of soup in her hands. Her eyes meet mine, and she smiles—a small, tired smile, but it's enough to make my chest tighten.
I let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding. She's awake. She's okay.
She stretches out her hand toward me, and I close the distance between us in an instant, taking her hand in mine. Her skin feels warm, alive. I squeeze it gently, feeling tears prick the corners of my eyes.
"Hi," she says softly, her voice weak but steady.
"Hey," I reply, my voice catching. I lean down and press a kiss to her forehead, letting my lips linger there for a moment. Relief washes over me, mingled with gratitude and a newfound determination.
I won't fail her again.
This time, I'll make things right. For her, and for us.