Chapter 4 "Do us a favor?" Elaine Ward laughed like she'd heard the funniest thing all year. "You love Gideon so much you cling till no one can pry you off, and now I'm supposed to believe you're doing us a favor? What is this- some hard-to-get act? The only 'favor' I see is you dead." Her eyes hardened. She lunged forward and grabbed the IV line in Angela's arm. "What are you doing?" Angela jerked away, terror flaring, but she was too battered to fight. Grinning, Elaine pinched the line and tried to force air through the injection port into Angela's vein. "Once you're gone," she whispered, wild and breathless, "Gideon is mine. Completely." "Let go! Help-help!" Angela cried with everything she had. The movement tore at her wounds and turned the lights white at the edges. Footsteps pounded. A doctor and two nurses burst in, yanked Elaine back, and dragged her out while another clamped the line and moved to stabilize Angela. Just before the dark closed over her, Angela gathered what was left of her strength and rasped to the doctor, "She... tried to kill me. Please... call the police." When she woke again, Gideon Holt was sitting beside her bed. For a stunned second she thought she was dreaming. He would never keep vigil at her bedside. He shot to his feet, anger already blazing. "Angela Summers, why did you have Elaine arrested? Do you have any idea what that will do to her?" So that was why he had come. Angela's heart slid to the bottom of a cold well. "She tried to kill me," she said, plain and steady. "She deliberately pushed air into my IV." "Impossible." He shot it down without a thought. "Elaine is gentle. She would never. You must have misunderstood. Maybe you jostled it yourself by accident." "The police will sort it out," Angela answered, her voice thin but unwavering. "If she didn't do it, they'll release her. They haven't. Doesn't that tell you something?" "Even if she did," Gideon snapped, his tone dropping into command, "it wasn't on purpose. You must have provoked her. Sign this." He slapped a document onto the blanket. "An Affidavit of Non-Prosecution. Put it in writing that you won't press charges so they can release her. Sign it now." Angela stared at the page, then gave a small, ragged laugh that dissolved into tears. How absurd. The woman who had nearly killed her would walk because the victim-his wife-was supposed to make it easy. "I'm not signing," she said, each word clean and separate. Gideon actually blinked. He studied the woman in the bed as if she were a stranger. Where had the pliant, eager-to-please wife gone? "Angela Summers," he ground out, fighting to keep his temper in its sheath, "what is wrong with you lately? Why do you contradict me again and again? What do you want?" What did she want? Once, she had obeyed because she loved him. Loved him until she lost herself. Loved him until she mistook meekness for virtue and believed that if she were good enough, someday he would look back. Now she didn't love him anymore. Now she was awake. She had handed him her whole heart and watched him grind it underfoot. All she wanted was to pick up those pieces, one by one. Florence Florence is a passionate reader who finds joy in long drives on rainy days. She's also a fan of Italian makeup tutorials, blending beauty and elegance into her everyday life.