Ethan walked slowly toward me, his mask of sympathy dissolving as he looked down at my helpless body. His lips curled into something cruel.
"You really are something, Ariana," he muttered, leaning in. "Most people wouldn't survive a hit like that. But you? Still breathing."
He crouched next to my ear.
"I can't let that happen."
My soul trembled. My mind shrieked.
"If only you hadn't decided to divorce me… maybe none of this would've happened," he whispered, brushing a strand of hair from my bandaged forehead like I was his beloved. "But you had to be smart. You had to run to your lawyer."
He chuckled.
"You know, I'm glad you didn't change the will," he whispered, so close I could feel his breath. "Now I've got $150 billion waiting in my name."
Then his voice dropped into a venomous hiss.
"If only you'd just die peacefully."
He stood up straight, fixed his expression, and turned for the door.
But in that moment… deep inside…
I made a vow.
If there was even the smallest chance…
Even the faintest flicker of life left in me…
I would survive.
And I would make him wish he hadn't left me breathing.
The door swung open with a loud creak, making Ethan jump back.
"God, Delilah!" he snapped, pressing a hand to his chest. "You scared the hell out of me. Just—come in."
Her heels clicked against the sterile floor, and though I couldn't move a single inch, I knew that voice. That presence.
Her.
The woman I caught in my bed.
The one who laughed as my world shattered.
Delilah.
She stopped beside Ethan, her perfume sickeningly sweet, her voice dripping with feigned concern.
"Is she... recovering?" she asked, peering down at me like I was an experiment in a lab. "Her eyes... they're open."
Yes, they're open, you witch. I see everything. I hear everything. And I won't forget a single word.
Ethan scoffed, waving off her question like it was a nuisance. "Don't worry. She's not going to recover. I'll make sure of that."
Delilah narrowed her eyes. "And what if she does? What then, Ethan? Huh?" Her voice sharpened like broken glass.
For a second, silence fell between them. Ethan looked at her, his jaw tightening.
"Do you think I'm not scared too?" he hissed. "You think I don't want to pull the damn plug myself? But I can't, Delilah. Not now. The cops are watching me like hawks. Her parents are everywhere. I raise one finger and I'm in jail."
He slammed his fist against the metal bed rail but quickly stepped back and composed himself. Like a switch flipping.
Delilah stayed quiet, but her gaze shifted toward me.
Her eyes met mine.
I saw it then—the discomfort. The guilt. The truth.
She wasn't as heartless as him. But she was still weak. Still complicit.
Ethan noticed her silence and softened his tone. "Hey, baby, I'm sorry," he murmured, sliding his fingers along her jaw. "I'm just... under pressure, okay?"
His touch moved from her cheek to her lips, tracing her mouth before he leaned in.
They kissed—right in front of me.
His hands roamed over her body while my eyes, frozen and wide, could do nothing but watch. Watch as he touched her the way he once touched me. The way I once believed was sacred.
Disgust filled me. A sickness I couldn't vomit up. A scream I couldn't let out.
"Ethan, are you crazy?" Delilah hissed, pulling away, glancing at the door. "What if someone walks in?"
"Fine," he snapped, brushing her off like she was dirt on his sleeve. "I'm tired of this place anyway. I'll leave first—wait five minutes, then go."
He turned back to me—just briefly. His eyes were empty.
The man I had once loved… wasn't human anymore.
He left the room without another word.
Now it was just Delilah and me.
Alone.
She hovered at the edge of my bed, avoiding my stare at first. But eventually, the weight of my eyes—my hatred—pulled her gaze in like a curse.
She squirmed. Folded her arms.
"God," she muttered, looking down at me, "can't you blink or something? Staring at me like that…"
I want to scream. I want to claw your face off.
She sighed, her voice oddly soft. "Look… I'm sorry, okay? This isn't personal. Ethan's a dick. I don't even love him—I just want what everyone else wants."
She took a step back toward the door.
"For your sake, Ariana… I hope you never get better. Because if you do… he'll kill you for real next time."
And with that, she left.
The door clicked shut.
Silence again.
But I wasn't broken.
Not yet.
"Your prayers won't come true," I vowed in my mind, venom sharp and steady.
"I will get better. And when I do... hell is coming with me."
Author's POV
Delilah's heels echoed against the hospital pavement as she walked briskly, trying to catch up. Her steps, once confident and elegant, were now hurried and anxious.
"Ethan, wait!" she called out, her voice sharp in the cold air.
Ethan didn't slow down. His jaw was clenched. His strides long and impatient.
"Ethan!" she yelled again, irritation flaring in her tone.
Finally, he stopped. He spun around, face twisted in frustration.
"What?!" he snapped.
Delilah flinched but held her ground. "Aren't you going to give me a ride?"
He stared at her like she'd lost her mind.
"Are you fucking crazy?" he hissed, stepping closer, eyes scanning the area. "There are police crawling all over this place. Reporters watching every move I make."
His voice dropped into a sharp whisper. "We cannot be seen together. Not right now. The investigation is still ongoing."
"But Ethan, I—"
"No!" he cut her off, running a hand through his hair. "Just stay away from me, Delilah. For now. Don't text. Don't call. I need to lie low until this all blows over."
"But I need to tell you something—"
"I don't care right now!" he barked, then quickly turned and stormed off into his car.
Delilah stood frozen on the pavement, watching the taillights disappear into the distance.
Her lips parted. Her hand trembled slightly. Her breath caught in her chest.
And then… nothing.
No ride.
No comfort.
No Ethan.
Just the biting wind and her unanswered thoughts.
She exhaled slowly, blinked hard, and walked away, heels clicking on the pavement with a rhythm that sounded lonelier than ever.
---
Two Months Later
—Ariana's POV—
Time… what even was time anymore?
A day. A week. A month. Maybe a year. I couldn't tell the difference. I couldn't tell anything.
All I knew was the ceiling above me, the constant hum of machines, and the dull ache in my soul that never went away.
I was still trapped in my body. A prisoner inside my own skin.
I couldn't move. I couldn't speak.
I couldn't cry.
Only my eyes still listened. Still watched. Still burned with memories.
Sometimes, I wondered if I was dreaming. If I'd wake up from this endless nightmare and find myself back in the life I once had.
Back when I laughed without pain.
Back when I believed love was real.
Back when I thought Ethan Cole was my forever.
God, how I loved him.
How I trusted him.
I used to stare at his face like it held my entire future. I remember how he smiled when I brought him coffee, how he kissed my forehead when he thought I was asleep.
I gave him everything. My name. My body. My heart.
Even when my parents warned me, I said, "No. He's different."
He wasn't.
He was every nightmare they tried to save me from.
And now… this is what I'm left with.
Silence. Betrayal.
Stillness.
And a fire in my chest that refuses to die.
I may be trapped.
I may be voiceless.
But I'm still here.
Still watching.
Still remembering.
And if there's one thing I've learned the ones who forget the past are the first to fall.
I lay in stillness, wrapped in silence again. My only company was the soft beeping of machines and the shadows dancing along the walls.
It had been days maybe weeks since anyone familiar had walked through that door. No Ethan. Not even a fake tear this time.
Coward.
I closed my eyes internally, trying to push away the pain.
Then click.
The door creaked open. I expected a nurse. The usual scent of disinfectant. The usual hum of casual footsteps. But instead...
Click. Clack. Click.
Heels. Elegant. Purposeful.
No nurse walked like that.
Then I saw her.
Delilah.
She stepped inside slowly, her perfectly painted lips pressed together in a thin, unreadable line. Her eyes scanned the room, and then settled on me—cold and calculating.
"Hello," she said, the sound of her voice like glass scraping across stone. "You must remember me."
She didn't wait for an answer—why would she?
She sat down beside me with the casual grace of someone sitting in front of a corpse.
"I'm your husband's mistress," she said, then smiled. "Or… ex-husband, I guess."
Yes. I figured.
And I remember you. Too well.
"I'm sorry this happened to you," she said with a mocking tilt of her head. "But to be quite frank, you're way too calm. If I caught Ethan with someone else, I would've slit his throat on the spot."
She chuckled softly. I wanted to blink her out of existence.
"You want to hear something funny?" she continued, crossing one leg over the other like this was a brunch date. "Ethan and I have been together since high school. Yeah. This wasn't an affair. This was the plan."
My heart slowed. The machines didn't. But I felt everything.
She leaned closer, her perfume intoxicating and sickening all at once.
"We grew up poor. We used to sit under the stars and dream of what it'd be like to have our names printed on real money." She smiled to herself. "Then you came along. Right on time."
"When he told me you were in love with him, I didn't fight it. I told him to go for it. Why not? A rich girl who thinks love fixes everything?" She snorted. "You were perfect. Naive. Desperate."
Her voice sharpened now. Bitter.
"You forced yourself on him. You knew he had a girlfriend. But you wanted him. And like the spoiled brat you were, you took him. You wrecked my home first, Ariana."
Her words cut through me like knives—but not because they were cruel.
Because… they weren't entirely wrong.
I remembered now. Back in college. Ethan. That crooked smile. The way I chased him. The way I convinced myself he was mine. He never really chased me. Not once.
He was never in love.
I wanted him.
I wanted to win.
Delilah's voice interrupted my thoughts.
"You're looking at me like I'm the villain. But this? This is karma, sweetheart."
She stood now, smoothing the wrinkles from her coat. Her next words made my soul tremble.
"Oh, and I have news. I'm pregnant."
She smiled, victorious.
"Yep. I did what you couldn't do. I'm carrying Ethan's child. His heir. Your replacement."
She walked to the door, paused, and glanced back at me one last time.
"Once I give birth, you'll be gone. Ethan will have everything. And your precious inheritance? It'll all be in our baby's name. Your family won't see a dime."
She tilted her head.
"I almost feel sorry for you. But you brought this on yourself."
She left without waiting for a response.
The door clicked shut.
And I was alone again.
But something inside me had shifted.
Yes—I was broken.
Yes—I was helpless.
Yes—I made mistakes.
But I wasn't done yet.
Not by a long shot.