Chapter 118
I gaped at Dr. Sherman.
“Are you telling me that I should break up Andrew?” I asked.
“I’m not saying that you should do anything,” Dr. Sherman replied. “All I’m saying is that you really need to reconsider your relationship with Andrew if he is putting you in constant danger.”
She offered me another tissue, but I declined it.
“Crystal, it would be unethical of me if I didn’t say anything when I saw that you were putting yourself in a dangerous position,” she continued.
“But Andrew isn’t putting me into these positions himself,” I argued, “and we weren’t together when I was assaulted or kidnapped. I wasn’t even at his mansion.”
“But can you say, for certain, that these threats are not because of him?”
I hesitated.
“I received death threats because of my relationship with him,” I muttered.
“See?” Dr. Sherman set the tissue box on the couch and folded her hands in her lap. “I’m not telling you that you need to break up with him; I’m only letting you know your options.”
As I made my way down to Andrew’s gold Aston Martin, Dr. Sherman’s words bounced around my head.
If Andrew is putting you in so much constant physical and psychological danger, should you really be with him?
Was Dr. Sherman right? Did Andrew put me in too much danger for us to stay together?
She had no way of knowing that Bob was actually at the heart of most of the danger that I had been in. At the same time, I hadn’t started receiving as many death threats until I had started officially dating Andrew. If these attacks were causing me to develop psychological problems, maybe it would be best for me to distance myself from Andrew.
Andrew’s ostentatious vehicle was not hard to spot in the parking lot. I would have driven myself, but with the shooter still on the loose, Andrew insisted on driving me to and from these therapy sessions. If it hadn’t been so inconvenient for his schedule, he probably would have insisted on driving me to work, too.
As I approached the car, Andrew stepped out and waved to me. I waved back half-heartedly. I wondered if I could try to break up with him again even if I did think it was for the best.
He met me at the front of the car, wrapped his arms around me, and kissed me.
“How did it go, love?” Andrew asked.
“I have a lot to think about,” I replied. “Nothing you’d want to be bored with.”
I hated myself for lying to him again, but I couldn’t think of anything else to do. I wasn’t about to tell him that my therapist thought that he was a threat to my psyche.
Andrew narrowed his eyes at me. I panicked for a moment, wondering if he was using his mind-reading ability on me. Then his eyes returned to normal.
“If you’re sure,” he said. “Just know that you can tell me anything that you want.”
I nodded.
“Of course. Right now, though, I think I would like to go home.”
“No problem.”
Andrew kissed me again and took my hand, leading me to the passenger side of the car. His hand reached out to open the door when he suddenly stiffened. I soon heard a whizzing, like the bullet that had almost hit me a few nights before.
Fast as lightning, Andrew launched at me, covering me with his body and sending us both to the ground. A pain shot through my back as I made contact with the concrete. Fortunately, Andrew’s hand had covered the back of my head, protecting me from a concussion.
I had recovered from the shock by the time Jeffrey had hauled Andrew off of me. As I got to my feet, I saw guards scrambling everywhere. In the distance, behind a yellow Volkswagen Beetle, I spotted two guards tackling the gunman from the fundraiser.
At my feet, Jeffrey was administering first aid to Andrew. Another guard assisted him while a third guard called the paramedics.
“Ms. Blanchard,” a fourth guard said, holding his hands up to placate me. “Ms. Blanchard, my name is Jim. I need to get you to safe a place.”
I stared at the bullet wound in Andrew’s back, how it drenched bandage after bandage with crimson blood. I felt faint. Tears sprung to my eyes.
“No,” I declared. “No, I won’t leave him.”
“I’m sorry, ma’am, but it’s not my decision,” Jim said, grabbing my arm. “Andrew ordered us to prioritize your safety if anything like this were to happen.”
I tried to yank my arm from his grasp, but he was too strong. Instinctually, I went to poke his eye like in self-defense practice, but he grabbed my wrist and twisted it behind my back. My mind raced for options, but my rational side told me that it was better to surrender.
“Please, ma’am, I don’t want to hurt you,” Jim said. “I promise, I will take you to the ER as soon as the paramedics get His Highness there. Just let me transport you to safety for now.”
Reluctantly, I nodded. Jim released his hold.
“Now, please, come with me,” he said, holding out his hand.
I took his hand and followed him to a nearby black van, glancing over my shoulder to get one last look at Andrew lying on the concrete.
Three hours later, I sat in the waiting room at the hospital while Andrew was in surgery. I prayed to the Moon Goddess for him to pull through. I swore to her that I would do anything, so long as she helped him.
Jeffrey and three other guards stood nearby, keeping watch for more shooters and the paparazzi. The police had already come by for our statements and were currently outside taking statements from the rest of Andrew’s personal guard.
Trying to keep my mind off of what was going on in the operating room, I walked over to Jeffrey. He did not turn to face me, his eyes forever on the entrance to the hospital.
“Did anyone call Lisa?” I asked.
“Yes, as soon as the paramedics told us which hospital they were taking Andrew to,” Jeffrey replied.
“So, where is she?”
“Your guess is as good as mine.”
I sighed and ran my hand through my hair. Things must have been bad between them if Lisa wouldn’t be bothered to show up when her father was shot by a silver bullet.
“What’s on your mind?” Jeffrey asked.
“What makes you think that anything is on my mind?”
“Your boyfriend just took a bullet for you and is in surgery to have it removed. Of course, something is on your mind.”
“I don’t want to bother you with it.”
“You’re already bothering me.”
“Fine. My therapist thinks that being with Andrew is making psychological problems worse.”
Jeffrey’s neck muscle twitched, but he otherwise did not react.
“Why would she think that?”
“Well, being with him is putting me in constant danger, and constant danger like these attacks is constantly traumatizing me.”
Jeffrey cracked his neck.
“That might be true. Bob is another factor.”
I looked around frantically, but no one seemed to be close enough to hear our conversation.
“So, I guess the question is, are you going to break up with him?” Jeffrey asked.
“I don’t know. I feel torn.”
“Well, tell me this: how did you feel seeing him bleed on the ground like that?”
My insides twisted at the very thought.
“Faint. Scared. Grateful to have a man who would put his life on the line for me like that.”
“So, what does that tell you?”
My eyes cast down, staring at our shoes.
“I guess—” I looked back up at the entrance to the hospital— “I would rather be with someone who would take a bullet for me than be separated from him because of the dangers that being with him might bring.”
I glanced at Jeffrey out of the corner of my eyes. The corner of his lips quirked upward.
“There you go.”
“Ms. Blanchard,” a voice called.
I turned to see a nurse standing at the double doors leading into the ER.
“Yes?” I asked, approaching the woman.
“The surgery was a success. You can come see him now.”
