"Iris," Lincoln breathed out, his hand trembling as he reached toward me. "You're here."
Chloe whipped her head back toward the bed, panic flashing across her heavily contoured face. She immediately stepped into his line of sight, blocking his view of the doorway.
"Don't look at her, Lincoln," Chloe ordered, her voice shrill. "I told you. She doesn't care about you. She's only here to hurt you."
Lincoln shoved Chloe's arm away with surprising force. "Move. I want to see my wife."
I stepped fully into the room and let the heavy wooden door shut behind me. The solid thud echoed off the sterile walls. I didn't rush to his bedside. I didn't offer a comforting smile. I simply stood at the foot of the mattress, gripping the manila envelope.
Chloe spun around to face me, her eyes narrowed into venomous slits. "Get out! Can't you see he's in a fragile state?"
"You seemed to be handling his fragile state just fine with your fairy tales," I replied, my tone flat.
"Tell him why you're really here," Chloe demanded, pointing a manicured finger at the envelope in my hand. She turned back to Lincoln, her tone shifting to desperate pleading. "She brought divorce papers, baby! Ask her! She wants to leave you to die and take everything you own. She's been plotting this for months."
Lincoln squinted through the bandages wrapped around his forehead. He stared at the thick envelope. "Iris? What is she talking about?"
I lifted the envelope slightly. "She's actually telling the truth for once."
Lincoln shook his head, wincing as the movement pulled at his stitches. "No. We just bought the lake house. We're happy. We're celebrating our anniversary."
Chloe jumped right back in, sensing an opening. "She hasn't been happy! She's been sneaking around behind your back. She never loved you, Lincoln. She used you for your money, and when you fell, she left you bleeding on the pavement! I'm the one who stayed. I'm the one who loves you!"
Lincoln glared at Chloe. The confusion in his eyes quickly morphed into pure rage. "I don't even know your name."
"It's Chloe!" she shrieked, tears ruining her mascara, leaving dark tracks down her cheeks. "We're together! You promised me a ring! You promised you were going to leave her for me!"
"You're insane," Lincoln growled. His chest heaved beneath the thin hospital gown. "I am married to Iris. I love Iris. Get out of my room before I call security."
Chloe lunged forward, trying to grab his hand. "Baby, please, the doctor said your memory is messed up. You're just confused—"
Lincoln yanked his hand back so hard he pulled his IV line taut. The heart monitor beside the bed began to beep wildly, a rapid, frantic rhythm.
"I said get out!" he roared.
Chloe flinched. She looked at me, expecting me to crumble, expecting me to intervene. I just stared back, my face entirely blank.
Realizing she had lost this battle, Chloe grabbed her designer purse from the visitor's chair. She stormed toward the exit, slamming her shoulder hard into mine as she passed.
"You'll pay for this," she hissed in my ear.
I didn't even blink. I opened the door for her, waited until she stomped out into the hallway, and let it click shut again.
Now it was just the two of us.
The frantic beeping of the monitor slowed as Lincoln caught his breath. He looked at me, his expression softening instantly. The anger vanished, replaced by the desperate, pleading look of a terrified child.
"Iris," he whispered. "Come closer. Please."
I walked to the side of the bed. I didn't reach for his outstretched hand. I kept my arms firmly at my sides.
"I was so scared," he said, his voice cracking. "I had this awful nightmare that I fell. And then that strange woman was here, screaming at me, telling me terrible lies about you."
I looked at his bruised face. This was the man I had spent six years with. The man who, just three days ago, had mocked me, cheated on me, and told me I was nothing without his wealth.
Now, he looked completely broken.
Instead of pity, a hot, venomous spike of hatred pierced my chest.
He gets to forget. He gets to erase the two years of late-night arguments, the blatant disrespect, the smell of Chloe's perfume lingering on his shirts. He gets to retreat to a safe, happy memory from four years ago, leaving me to carry the weight of his betrayal alone.
"Her name is Chloe," I said.
"I don't care what her name is," Lincoln replied, straining forward to brush his fingers against my sleeve.
I took a step back, out of his reach.
"You should care," I told him. "You bought her a diamond tennis bracelet last month. You pay the rent for her downtown apartment."
Lincoln's eyes widened in horror. "What? No. That's impossible. I wouldn't do that. I would never do that to you."
"You did."
"Iris, look at me. I love you. We're going to have a baby."
My stomach turned. "I miscarried two years ago, Lincoln. While you were in a hotel with her."
The color drained from his face entirely. He stared at me, his mouth opening and closing silently.
"No," he finally choked out. "No, you're lying. You're just upset about the accident. You're trying to punish me."
I tossed the manila envelope onto his lap. It landed with a heavy slap against the thin hospital blanket.
"Sign them."
He stared at the paperwork like it was a venomous snake. "I won't." He shoved the envelope away, sending it sliding toward the edge of the bed. "I am your husband."
"You were my husband," I corrected him, my voice sharp. "Then you became her ATM. Now, you're just an obstacle."
"The doctors said my brain is swollen," he pleaded, tears pooling in his eyes. "I'm confused. Give me time, Iris. Just let me remember. We can fix this."
"I don't want you to remember," I replied. "I want you to sign."
"Why are you doing this?!" he shouted, frustration finally breaking through his panic. "I almost died!"
"And I called the ambulance," I shot back. "That was my final act of charity as your wife."
Lincoln stared at me, a tear spilling over his bruised cheek, tracking through the iodine smeared near his jaw. "You're so cold."
I laughed. A dry, hollow sound that scraped against my own throat. "You taught me how."
I turned my back on him and walked toward the door.
"If you walk out that door, I'll never sign them!" he threatened, his voice echoing loudly in the small room. "I'll drag this out in court for years!"
I paused with my hand on the cold metal doorknob.
"Keep your money, Lincoln. Keep your mistress. I just want my freedom."
I twisted the knob and pulled the door open, ready to leave him and his shattered memory behind forever.
But my exit was blocked.
Standing in the hallway, flanked by two men in dark suits, was Julian. Lincoln's older brother.
Julian looked down at me, his expression entirely unreadable, before his gaze flicked to the divorce papers resting on Lincoln's bed.
"Nobody is signing anything today, Iris," Julian said softly.
