Chapter 4

My consciousness drifted in and out, heavy like I was sinking underwater.

Then—darkness.

I don’t know how much time passed, but eventually, I woke up.

The blood on my head had dried, crusting into my hair like a cruel reminder of what happened. I was alone, aching, dazed, and barely strong enough to lift my phone and call for an ambulance.

By the time the paramedics arrived, I blacked out again.

When I came to, I saw someone sitting beside my hospital bed.

For a moment, I thought I was hallucinating. I blinked, trying to focus, praying my eyes were playing tricks on me.

But they weren’t.

It was really him.

Killian Crestwood.

He looked exhausted—dark circles under his eyes, his jaw tight from tension. Yet he was still forcing himself to stay upright, watching over me like he gave a damn.

When he noticed I was awake, he let out a breath of relief. But the softness didn’t last. Almost instantly, his familiar cold expression slipped back into place.

“Oh, look who's finally awake,” he sneered. “What now? Trying to play the innocent, broken doll?”

His voice dripped with sarcasm, each word slicing deeper than the last.

I didn’t respond. I just turned my face away, silent.

A thick bandage wrapped around my forehead. My body ached. My skin was pale and clammy. I probably looked like hell.

He paused. Maybe he even felt guilty for a second.

Then, softer, he cleared his throat. “Look… You were hurt too. So I’ll let it go this time. But next time, stay the hell away from Kayla.”

Still, I said nothing.

He was infuriating.

No, he was vile.

It was the first time I realized I didn’t just resent Killian. I despised him.

Seeing that I wasn’t reacting, he snapped again. “Don’t act like you’re above this, Aven. Just because Grandpa dotes on you doesn’t mean you get to trample over people.”

That did it.

I turned to him, my voice trembling but fierce. “I didn’t push her!”

He scoffed. “Don’t lie to me. I saw it with my own eyes!”

A tear slid down my cheek before I could stop it.

I remembered the day we met—how he claimed he had fallen in love with me at first sight.

I’d been crying in the rain over a stray kitten I couldn’t save. He told me I had the kindest heart he’d ever seen.

And now? Now he thought I’d push a pregnant woman down the stairs out of jealousy.

Something inside me cracked.

“I’m done,” I whispered. “Let’s just get a divorce.”

I didn’t want to argue anymore. I had no energy left. All I wanted was to walk away from this toxic nightmare.

I shut my eyes again. I couldn’t bear to look at him.

I heard his breathing hitch.

For a long beat, he said nothing.

Then his voice dropped, low and icy. “Not a chance. I fought so hard to marry you, Aven. I won’t let you go that easily.”

I opened my eyes and met him.

His gaze faltered.

Whatever he saw in mine—cold, lifeless, drained—it made him uncomfortable.

He tugged at his tie, like it was suddenly choking him, and looked away.

“Forget it,” he muttered. “There’s no divorce.”

I didn’t reply. There was no point.

Because he wasn’t the one with the final say.

Grandpa Crestwood had already agreed to it.

And no matter how stubborn Killian wanted to be, he couldn’t overpower his grandfather.

Right then, the door to the hospital room burst open with a loud slam.

Grandpa Crestwood stormed in, flanked by a team of people.

The tension in the room thickened instantly.

And for the first time in a long time—I finally felt like I had someone in my corner.