My Brother Came Back, and He Destroyed Them

Chapter 4

After Nash left, Lyra dropped the pitiful act on the spot. Arms crossed, she looked down at me.

"You want to know why I keep coming to take care of you? It's not to make anything right. It's so I get to see Nash more, get closer to him."

I looked at her, quiet. "That crash was on purpose, wasn't it? You wanted me dead."

Surprise flickered over her face, then a smile. "So you figured it out. What's it matter? Nash already had you sign the forgiveness letter… And really, this is better than if you'd died. Watching yourself turn into a cripple—that's got to be hard to live with, doesn't it?"

As she talked, she pulled up her texts and held the phone in front of me. "Oh, and—look. This is the pay Nash sent me. Several times what your caregiver makes. Nash and I go back more than ten years. What have you got that stacks up against that?"

Before long, Nash came back with a nurse to change the sheets. He wanted to change my clothes, but I refused, gripping the collar of my gown tight and not letting go. "Nash, call the caregiver back to help me."

Lyra stood off to the side, sneering. "Freya, no need to be shy. The fact that Nash is willing to change your clothes himself just proves he doesn't look down on you."

I glanced at her. "Get out. Now."

Nash let go and called the caregiver back. Then he walked Lyra to the door, telling her to be careful on the way and to text him when she got home.

The ward went quiet again. I pulled the phone out from under my pillow, stopped the recording, and asked him, "You said you had Lyra take care of me to make things right. So why are you paying her a salary behind my back?"

He wasn't the least bit bothered. "Lyra's family's always struggled. She needs the money. She's too proud to just take a handout, so I had to find an excuse to pay her."

I sneered. "So you dipped into our wedding fund? Half that money's mine!"

He pressed his lips together and said nothing. Finally he sighed, giving in, and reached to pull me into his arms. "I've known her for years. How was I supposed to stand by and watch her struggle? Don't worry, I'll make it up to you. It won't happen again. You've been so upset lately—it's not good for your recovery. Starting today, I'll stay here and take care of you myself. Stop being mad, okay?"

But that very night, Lyra called, saying she'd gotten drunk out of guilt and couldn't find her way home. Nash didn't think twice—soothed her in a low voice over the phone while he stood up and walked right out of the ward.

After that, she'd call him away every so often.

The day before my discharge, he held me tight, all guilt. "Freya, let's go get our marriage license once you're out… I'll take care of you the rest of my life. I'll never let anyone wrong you again."

He lowered his head to kiss me, and I turned my face away. "Your phone's ringing. Answer it."

Sure enough, it was Lyra again—but this time he actually declined it and held me tighter. "I just want to be with you today…"

Come evening, he left the ward anyway.

I opened my eyes and gave a bitter smile, then hired a local courier. I sent him my door code and told him where my documents were. An hour later, he brought them to me.

Early the next morning, Nash came to the hospital to handle my discharge. Jude was already at the entrance—he'd used my location to find me. When he saw me in the ward, his eyes were red with rage. He carried me out of the room and into the car.

I told him everything that had happened and pulled up the recording on my phone. "I've got a recording here. I don't know if it's enough to prove Lyra was the one who hit me…"

Jude looked at me and said, flat and certain, "Don't worry. I'll make them pay for this."

Meanwhile, Nash finished the paperwork and had even sent flowers ahead. When he pushed the door open, his smile froze. The ward was empty—even my things were gone.