---- Chapter 5 The words echoed in the dusty darkness, each one a hammer blow to my already broken spirit. "Save the dog." He had chosen a puppy over me. Over his wife. The last embers of love, of memory, of hope that had stubbornly flickered within me were finally, brutally extinguished. My heart didn't just break; it turned to dust. It didn't matter anymore. Nothing mattered. The weight on my chest felt heavier. It was getting harder to breathe. | closed my eyes, welcoming the darkness that crept in at the edges of my vision. It was better this way. It was an escape. My last conscious thought was of my father' s kind face, smiling at me. Then, nothing. The next time | opened my eyes, the world was white and smelled of antiseptic. A steady beeping came from a machine beside my bed. | was in a hospital. | was alive. Blake was sitting in a chair by the window, his head in his hands. He looked tired, his expensive suit rumpled. He looked ---- up when he heard me stir. "Ellen," he said, his voice hoarse. "You're awake." He stood and walked to my bedside. He looked down at me, his face a mixture of relief and something else-guilt, maybe. Or perhaps it was just annoyance that | had survived to complicate his life further. "How are you feeling?" he asked. It was the first time in months he had asked me that question. | stared at the white ceiling. The question was so absurd, so meaningless. "Why are you here, Blake?" | asked, my voice a dry rasp. "Shouldn't you be with Celesta? Making sure she's not too traumatized by the near-death of her precious dog?" He flinched, a flicker of pain crossing his face. "Ellen, that's not fair. The rescue team said the structure was collapsing. They made a judgment call..." "You made the call," | interrupted, my voice flat and devoid of emotion. "| heard you. You chose the dog." "It was a calculated risk!" he said, his voice rising in frustration. "They were sure they could get back to you! The dog was right there, easy to grab. It was the logical choice to secure one asset before retrieving the second. And they did get you out! You're alive, aren't you?" ---- He was talking about my life like a business transaction. An asset to be retrieved. The coldness of his logic was more terrifying than any emotional outburst would have been. "So, you weren't afraid," | said, turning my head to look at him for the first time. My eyes were as dead as my heart. "You weren't afraid of losing me." He looked taken aback. "Of course | was, but..." "No," | said, cutting him off again. "Let me ask you a question. When Celesta threatened to kill herself, you caved instantly. You were terrified of losing her. But were you ever, for one second, terrified of losing me?" He stared at me, his mouth slightly open. The question hung in the air between us, heavy and damning. He had no answer. He had never even considered it. | wasn't something to be lost; | was something he owned. A possession. A bitter smile touched my lips. "I see." | took a breath, the air rattling in my damaged lungs. "l want to finalize the divorce, Blake. Immediately. The cooling-off period is over. | want nothing from you. Just my freedom." He scoffed, a flicker of his old arrogance returning. "Don't be ridiculous, Ellen. Where would you go? What would you do? You have nothing. | am your life." "You are my prison," | corrected him. "And I'm breaking out." ---- "I'll give you anything you want," he said, falling back on his usual solution. "Another check? A house? Just stop this nonsense." Before | could answer, the door to my room burst open. Blake's assistant stood there, his face pale and panicked. "Sir," he stammered. "It's Miss Norman. There was an accident. She slipped on a wet floor in the hallway and hit her head." Blake's transformation was instantaneous. His face contorted with alarm and fury. "What? How could you let that happen? Is she okay? Where is she?" he roared, all thoughts of me completely forgotten. "She's in the emergency room, sir. The doctors are looking at her now." Blake didn't say another word to me. He didn't even glance back. He just turned and ran from the room, his long strides echoing down the hallway. | watched him go, a profound, bone-deep weariness settling over me. It was always going to be like this. | would always be second to her whims, her needs, her very existence. A few minutes later, the door opened again. | expected a nurse, but it was Blake. His face was a thunderous mask of rage. He strode to my bed ---- and, without a word, ripped the thin blanket off me. He grabbed my arm, his fingers digging into my flesh like talons. "Get up," he snarled. "What are you doing?" | cried out, a sharp pain shooting through my bruised ribs. "You're hurting me." He ignored my protests, hauling me out of the bed. | was weak, dizzy, and my body screamed in protest. He half- dragged, half-carried me out of the room and down the sterile white corridor, my hospital gown flapping around my legs. He pushed open the door to a curtained-off cubicle in the emergency room. Celesta was sitting on an examination table. She had a small, neat bandage on her forehead, but otherwise, she looked perfectly fine. She was, however, putting on a magnificent performance of a suffering martyr, dabbing at her dry eyes with a tissue. When she saw me, a triumphant smirk flickered across her lips before she replaced it with a look of pained fragility. "Ellen," she said, her voice a weak, breathy whisper. "Thank goodness you're here." She held up a medical chart. "The doctors told me the most terrible news. It seems | have an incredibly rare blood type. If | ever need a transfusion, it will be nearly impossible to find a match." ---- | stared at her, then at Blake, a cold dread seeping into my veins. "You should be grateful for the opportunity to be of service. You should thank me."