Elise POV:
The heavy oak door pushed open just a fraction, the hinges silent. Giana slipped into the room. She was wearing a standard-issue hospital gown, but her face was painted with a flawless, full-coverage makeup look.
A thick, ridiculous foam brace wrapped around her neck, but her hands were perfectly steady as she casually held a venti iced coffee from Starbucks.
Giana reached behind her and clicked the deadbolt into place. The moment the lock engaged, the pitiful, traumatized victim routine vanished from her face, replaced by the smug, radiant glow of a conqueror.
I watched her with dead eyes. My right hand, hidden beneath the white hospital blanket, slowly slid upward, slipping under my pillow until my fingers brushed the cold glass of my smartphone.
Giana strutted to the foot of my bed, her eyes sweeping over the heavy traction sling and the thick plaster cast encasing my leg. She didn't try to hide her amusement.
"Tsk, tsk," she clicked her tongue, shaking her head in mock sympathy. "You really look like hell, Elise. Such a tragedy."
I didn't take the bait. I kept my face entirely blank, while my thumb blindly swiped across my phone screen under the pillow. Muscle memory from my years as a paralegal kicked in; three swipes right, one tap down. I hit the record button on the voice memo app.
When I didn't react, Giana rolled her eyes. She dragged the visitor's chair closer to the bed, the metal legs scraping harshly against the linoleum floor, and sat down, crossing her legs elegantly.
She took a slow, deliberate sip of her iced coffee. "Holden was a wreck last night," she sighed, her tone dripping with manufactured pity. "He refused to leave the ER waiting room until the doctors assured him I didn't have any brain bleeding. He held my hand the entire time."
A sharp, phantom pain pinched the center of my chest, but I refused to give her the satisfaction of seeing it. I just stared at her, letting the silence stretch until it became uncomfortable.
My absolute lack of reaction visibly grated on her nerves. Giana leaned forward, the ice rattling in her plastic cup, her voice dropping to a harsh, venomous hiss.
"Let's cut the crap, Elise," she sneered. "He only married you because you were a quiet, obedient little orphan who wouldn't get in the way of his ambitions. You were cheap to maintain."
She sat back, a triumphant smile stretching her red lips. "But in the real world, in the empire he's building? I am his equal. I am his true soulmate."
I let out a soft, dry laugh. The sound was so unexpected it made Giana blink. I finally spoke, my voice raspy but dripping with lethal condescension. "If you're such a profound soulmate, Giana, why are you still just a dirty little secret after ten years? Why are you sneaking into my hospital room like a rat?"
That hit the nerve. The smugness vanished, and Giana's face flushed a dark, ugly shade of red.
She shot up from the chair so fast her iced coffee sloshed over the rim, splattering dark brown drops onto the pristine white hospital sheets.
"You listen to me, you pathetic cripple," she snarled, leaning over the bed. "Holden is filing the divorce papers the second the IPO goes public. You better be smart and walk away with nothing, or we will destroy you."
To drive the final nail into my coffin, Giana aggressively raised her left hand, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear in an exaggerated, theatrical motion.
The harsh fluorescent lights of the hospital room caught the massive, pear-shaped diamond resting on her ring finger. The facets threw blinding, arrogant sparks of light across the walls.
My eyes locked onto the ring, and my pupils dilated. A sickening jolt of recognition hit me.
It was the exact custom design I had sketched with Holden in a sunlit cafe in Paris last year. We had spent hours perfecting the setting for our upcoming five-year anniversary.
Giana caught my stare and let out a sharp, victorious laugh. "Beautiful, isn't it? Holden had it rushed for me last night. Said I needed something beautiful to help me recover from the trauma."
I took a slow, deep breath, forcing the violent surge of bile back down my throat. My thumb moved under the pillow, pressing the screen to stop and save the recording.
I lifted my chin, looking at Giana not as a rival, but as a pathetic, delusional clown performing a cheap trick.
"Take your little trophy and get the hell out of my room," I commanded, my voice dropping to a freezing, absolute zero.
Giana scoffed, clearly thinking I was just putting on a brave face to hide my shattered heart. She turned, her hips swaying as she marched toward the door.
As she unlocked the deadbolt, she threw a nasty smirk over her shoulder. "I'll see you in court, Elise."
The door clicked shut, leaving me alone in the sterile silence of the room.
I pulled my phone out from under the pillow. My fingers flew across the screen, taking the five-minute audio file and uploading it directly to my encrypted, cloud-based legal drive.
I stared at the blue progress bar inching across the screen, my eyes narrowing into slits of pure, calculating ice.
"Enjoy your stolen goods while you can."
