married to the ruthless ceo

chapter 5

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*Chapter 5: Hospital and Ultimatums*

She didn’t come home that night.

I didn’t sleep.

At 2:17am my phone buzzed. Unknown number.

> _Damien. She’s at St. Mary’s. Head trauma. Conscious. Don’t come._

Don’t come.

From Jack.

My jaw clenched so hard it hurt.

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*St. Mary’s Hospital. Room 204.*

She was pale. Bandage on her temple. IV in her arm.

And him.

*Jack.*

Sitting in the chair next to her bed like he owned it. Holding her hand. Glaring at the door like he was waiting for me to walk in so he could swing.

“Get out,” Jack said the moment he saw me. He stood up. 6’2. Fists clenched. “It was wrong what you did. What if she died, huh? What if she died on those stairs because of you and your w***e?”

Alina wasn’t here. I’d left her at a private clinic across town.

“You don’t get to talk to me like that in my wife’s room,” I said, voice flat.

“My wife?” Jack laughed, bitter. “You pushed her down the stairs. You’re not her husband. You’re her abuser.”

Ava didn’t look at me. She was staring at the ceiling.

“Ava,” I said.

She turned. Slow. Her eyes were empty. Cold. The same look I gave people before I ruined them.

“Forget it,” she said to Jack. “From today onward, I will start being wicked to him. Just like he’s been wicked to me.”

Something in my chest twisted.

“Can we talk. Alone,” I said.

“No,” she said. “Anything you have to say, say it here. With my boyfriend as witness.”

Boyfriend. The word felt like glass in my throat.

I exhaled. “I’m sorry. For pushing you. I lost control.”

She laughed. It wasn’t nice.

“Sorry? Damien Blackwood is saying sorry? Mark the date.”

She sat up, wincing. “You want to apologize? Then listen to my conditions.”

I waited.

“My boyfriend will come and stay with me till I get well,” she said. “He will be the one driving me on the wheelchair. He will be the one taking care of me till I’m well.”

“No,” I said immediately. “I caused it. I will do it.”

She looked at me like I was dirt.

“Never in my life would I let a man I hate. A man that made me be in this situation. Drive me on a wheelchair.”

She leaned forward. The bandage pulled.

“Here’s the deal, Damien. If you don’t let him come here to take care of me, then I will go to his house. And you will be free with your girlfriend. No stress. If your mum or my mum call, tell them I’m not around. Don’t worry.”

She smiled. Sharp. “Let him come. And my fiancé will also come. Who cares? That’s not my business.”

Fiancé.

The word hit harder than the board meeting I lost last quarter.

I could see it in her eyes. She wanted me to say no.

She wanted a reason to leave. To go to him. To make it real.

And the wicked part of me?

I wanted to say yes. Just to watch her burn.

But the part of me that had carried her up those same stairs 3 months ago when she sprained her ankle? That part won.

“Fine,” I said. “He can come. During visiting hours.”

“24/7,” she corrected. “Or I leave tonight.”

Jack squeezed her hand. Proud.

I nodded once. “24/7.”

“Good,” Ava said. Then she looked at the nurse. “Can you get me a wheelchair? My fiancé is going to take me for air.”

The nurse left.

When it was just us three, the air got heavy.

I walked to the window. Hands in pockets. Back to them.

“You’re enjoying this,” I said quietly.

“I learned from the best,” she replied. “You brought a woman to my home. You chose her over me on the floor. You think I’ll be soft now?”

I turned.

“You want wicked? I can be wicked too,” I said. “Starting tomorrow, Alina moves into the guest house. Officially. On the property.”

Ava’s face didn’t change. But Jack’s grip tightened on her hand.

“Do it,” Ava said. “Bring her. Bring ten of them. I have Jack. And I have the contract.”

She held up her phone. Clause 7.2 highlighted. _No third parties at the residence during contract hours without mutual agreement._

“I’ll sue you for breach. And I’ll win. And I’ll take half.”

She was bluffing. She had to be.

But her voice didn’t shake.

The nurse came back with the wheelchair.

Jack stood and helped her into it. Gently. Like she was made of glass.

He looked at me over her head. “We’ll be in the garden. Don’t follow.”

They left.

I stood in that empty hospital room and did something I hadn’t done in 10 years.

I punched the wall.

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*3 Days Later. The House.*

It was a war zone.

Jack was here. 24/7. Sleeping on the couch in the guest room with Ava.

He cooked for her. Wheeled her around. Read to her.

He kissed her forehead when he thought I wasn’t watching.

And I brought Alina to the guest house.

Every morning at 9am, Alina would walk to the main house.

“Good morning, wife,” she’d say to Ava.

Every evening at 8pm, I would “escort” Alina out. With a kiss. At the door. Where Ava could see from the living room window.

Ava responded by having Jack carry her to the kitchen and feed her breakfast. In my dining room.

“Aaah,” Jack would say, holding the spoon to her mouth. “Open wide, babe.”

Alina threw a coffee mug at the wall.

I pretended not to care.

But at night, when the house was quiet, I would stand outside the guest room door and listen.

To Jack’s voice. Soft.

To Ava’s laugh. A laugh I hadn’t heard since the contract started.

And I hated it.

I hated him.

I hated her for letting him.

On the 4th night, I couldn’t take it.

I knocked.

“Come in,” Ava said.

Jack was sitting on the bed. She was in his arms, head on his chest.

Get up, I wanted to say. That’s my place.

Instead I said, “Physical therapy tomorrow. 10am. Downstairs.”

“I’ll take her,” Jack said.

“No,” I said. “I will.”

Ava didn’t answer. She just closed her eyes.

“Fine,” Jack said, standing. “But I’m coming too.”

“Who cares,” I said, throwing her own words back at her. “That’s not my business.”

I walked out.

In the hall, Alina was waiting. In a silk robe.

“Are you coming to bed?” she asked.

I looked at Ava’s closed door.

“No,” I said. And kept walking.