The Hidden Revenge

The Hidden Agenda

“Martins?” helen’s voice was soft, yet it carried through the thick air of the hospital room like a tether, pulling Martins back from the spiral of thoughts that consumed him. He barely registered her presence as she moved across the room, adjusting the blinds, her every movement fluid, as if choreographed for the sole purpose of maintaining peace in a room filled with rage and uncertainty.

Martins, still lying on the sterile white sheets of the hospital bed, could feel the gnawing ache that had settled in his chest since the accident. The helplessness, the rage, the constant ticking of unanswered questions, each one louder than the last. But of all the emotions that weighed on him, there was one that burned most betrayal.

Victor. Charlotte. He couldn’t stop thinking about it. The more he turned over the events of that night in his head, the more everything seemed to fall apart. The more his body betrayed him, the more the people he trusted turned out to be just as broken. It was only helen who remained constant, a figure in the shadows who watched over him like an eerie presence, both soothing and unsettling.

He couldn’t shake the feeling that she was hiding something. Not just from him, but from everyone. The way she avoided certain topics, the way she seemed to know things about him he hadn’t said aloud his unease grew every time she entered the room.

“helen,” he finally rasped, his voice thick with the weight of his frustrations. He had spent hours lying here in silence, and now his curiosity got the better of him. “Who are you really?”

She turned toward him, her face neutral, but there was a flicker in her eyes. She wasn’t surprised by his question no, it was almost as though she’d expected it. She held his gaze for a long moment, her lips parting as if to speak, but she seemed to change her mind.

“I’m just someone here to help you recover,” she replied, her voice steady, but there was an edge of something that didn’t quite fit. A lie? Martins couldn’t tell. He needed more.

“Just someone? Is that all?” he asked, his brow furrowing. “You’ve been here every day, helen. Every day, even when others... when they left. You know more about me than anyone, but you can’t be this... just a nurse. You’ve been avoiding something. Something about you.”

Her eyes shifted slightly, her gaze dropping to the floor, and then, almost too quickly, she masked her reaction, lifting her chin and meeting his eyes again.

“I’ve had my share of loss, Martins,” she said, her voice lower now, almost... sad. “I’m not so different from you. I know what it feels like to be... shattered.”

Martins narrowed his eyes, leaning forward slightly in the bed. He had never been one to back down from a confrontation, especially one that involved his growing suspicions. There was a lot about helen he hadn’t yet understood. She was no mere caretaker; there was more to her, more than she let on.

“Then why the ring?” he asked, his voice flat but his words laced with a sense of challenge. He had noticed it earlier, during one of her brief moments of vulnerability the subtle glint of a ring on her left hand, one that seemed to hold significance. “That ring... where’s it from?”

Her eyes widened, just for a second, before the mask was back in place. She seemed to bite back a response, her fingers instinctively brushing the ring, as if she were trying to erase its presence.

“It’s... nothing,” she said quickly, stepping back slightly, her calm demeanor slipping for just a fraction of a second. “Just something from the past. It doesn’t matter.”

But Martins didn’t buy it. Nothing about this felt right. She wasn’t telling him everything. And deep down, he suspected that this woman this enigma in front of him knew far more about his life and its unraveling than she was letting on.

That was when he heard it a faint murmur, a voice, coming from just outside the door.

helen’s eyes widened, her face paling ever so slightly, and for the briefest of moments, Martins could see the tension in her posture.

“Charlotte,” she said, almost too casually, but Martins caught the shift in her tone. She was hiding something, he could feel it.

But before Martins could press further, helen turned, walking briskly to the door. “I’ll leave you to rest. We’ll talk later,” she said, the door closing softly behind her.

Martins lay there in silence, the weight of the conversation pressing down on him. The whisper of Charlotte’s name had been enough to send a wave of suspicion flooding back. Had she and helen known each other? Were they working together to keep him in the dark?

His thoughts were interrupted by the faintest sound helen’s voice, hushed, carrying through the door. “Charlotte, I’ve been waiting for you...”

Martins’ heart thudded in his chest. His suspicion was growing.

The world outside was a blur of noise, light, and confusion. But Martins Martins was trapped in a haze of his own creation. The pain had subsided a bit, but the weight of his helplessness was an ever-present companion.

His eyes stared blankly at the ceiling as he lay motionless on the hospital bed. There was a hollowness inside him, a place that had once been filled with pride, ambition, and unshakable power. But now... now that void was consumed by something else something darker.

What happened to me?

His mind spiraled as the reality of his situation continued to settle over him. He wasn’t the man he used to be. His body, once strong and invincible, now betrayed him at every turn. Every inch of his body screamed for attention every bruise, every fracture, a testament to the accident that had torn his world apart.

He closed his eyes, his mind racing through his options, none of them good. His company, john Enterprises, the very thing that had defined him, was slipping through his fingers. The doctors, the lawyers none of them had answers, none of them could tell him how long this would last. Would he ever walk again? Would he ever be able to reclaim the power he’d once held?

He could feel the cold emptiness inside, his identity shattered like glass, and for the first time in his life, he didn’t know who he was.

The weight of betrayal hit him harder now, as the memories of that night became sharper, more vivid. Victor. Charlotte. How could they have abandoned him so easily? His closest friend, his fiancée both of them had turned their backs on him. Was it the accident? Or had there been something more? The more Martins thought about it, the more he realized he had been blind.

Was it their fault? Had they engineered his downfall? Or had they simply seen his weakness and used it to their advantage?

His body ached, but it was his mind that burned. He wanted answers. He needed to know what had happened.

You’re nothing now, he thought bitterly, staring at the ceiling as if it might provide some kind of solace. They’ve all left you. You have no control. No power.

His chest tightened at the thought. The man who had conquered every obstacle, the man who had built a billion-dollar empire, was now reduced to a mere shell. What was he supposed to do now? How could he survive this?

The door opened softly, and helen stepped back into the room. Her gaze softened when she saw him, but the mask of professionalism remained. She wasn’t the same as the others, and yet, Martins couldn’t shake the feeling that she was playing him.

“Are you alright?” she asked, her voice low, concerned, but there was something... measured about it.

Martins turned his head to look at her, his anger bubbling beneath the surface, threatening to spill over. “No,” he replied, his voice rasping. “I’m not. None of this is right. What happened to me, helen? Why am I here? Why you?”

Her eyes flickered slightly, and for the first time, Martins saw something something that resembled uncertainty in her gaze. But it vanished quickly, replaced by a calm demeanor once more.

“I’m here because you need help,” she said simply, her voice level. “And because I promised to help you recover.”

But Martins wasn’t convinced. He wasn’t convinced by her calm. He wasn’t convinced by her perfect words.

“Are you really here to help me, or is this all part of your plan?” he demanded, the frustration, the anger, the helplessness pouring into his voice. “What’s your agenda, helen?”

She didn’t answer right away. Instead, she walked toward the window, her back to him.

When she spoke, her voice was soft but firm. “Everyone has an agenda, Martins. Yours is just harder to see right now.”

Martins felt his heart skip a beat as he processed her words. He couldn’t tell if she was mocking him or if she truly knew something he didn’t.

His pulse quickened as the weight of her words sank in. And for the first time since he woke up, Martins wondered if he had misjudged everything, every person who had been in his life. helen’s cryptic words lingered in the air like smoke, something he couldn’t quite grasp but could feel settling deep in his chest. "Everyone has an agenda." The idea, simple and disturbing, echoed in his mind.

His world, once defined by clarity and control, was slipping further into murky waters. Was helen just another player in a game he no longer understood? Or was she truly there to help him?

He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to clear the fog of frustration. But it was hard to focus when his thoughts were so clouded by anger, betrayal, and confusion. The shadows of the past week the crash, Victor’s evasions, Charlotte’s coldness still loomed large. They were too real, too close to ignore.

But there was something about helen. Something he couldn’t ignore. Despite the doubts swirling around her, there was an undeniable calmness in her presence that grounded him, even if just for a moment. He hated how it made him feel vulnerable.

Martins watched as she stood by the window, her back to him, staring out at the city below. She was a puzzle he couldn’t solve. But there was something he needed to understand, something important that wasn’t making sense. And as much as he hated to admit it, he felt he might need her to find the truth.

The room was quiet, save for the soft hum of the machines around him. He didn’t speak right away, allowing the silence to stretch between them. His thoughts were too jumbled, but he had to get to the heart of the matter.

"You’re not just a nurse, helen," he said, his voice low and deliberate, as he watched her stand with her back to him. "There’s something you’re not telling me."

She didn’t flinch at the accusation. Instead, she turned her head slightly, enough for him to see the profile of her face. "Maybe there is," she replied softly, her tone unreadable. "But maybe you’re not ready for the whole truth yet."

His fingers curled into fists at his sides, a fresh surge of anger flooding his veins. "You think I can’t handle it?" he snapped, his voice rising. "You think I’ve lost everything and can’t handle the truth?"

She finally turned to face him, her gaze calm but unwavering. "It’s not about what you can or can’t handle, Martins. It’s about what you choose to believe."

Her words hit him harder than he expected, and for the briefest of moments, he could have sworn he saw something flicker in her eyes something far deeper than the calm facade she wore. But it was gone too quickly for him to grasp.

"You don’t trust me," she said, almost as if she were stating a fact, not a question.

Martins swallowed hard, realizing that his suspicions about her were only growing. It wasn’t just her presence that unsettled him. It was the feeling that everything she said, everything she did, carried hidden layers pieces of a puzzle he couldn’t quite fit together.

But the truth of the matter was this: he didn’t trust her. Not yet. Not completely.

"How can I?" Martins said, frustration creeping into his voice. "You say you’re here to help me, but everything about you feels off. You’re a stranger, helen. You don’t even talk about yourself. You only talk about me."

helen’s expression softened, but it wasn’t pity just an acknowledgment, as if she understood the weight of his words more than he did. "I’m not the one who’s important here, Martins," she said quietly. "It’s you. You’re the one who needs help. Not me."

The silence between them stretched long, the tension in the air thick and palpable. Martins wanted to say something more to demand the truth, to force her to confess whatever it was she was hiding. But he didn’t. Because somehow, he knew that doing so would only drive her away, and she was the one person here who seemed to understand the depth of his struggle.

He was still powerless, still fractured. But with every word she spoke, with every quiet moment she shared with him, something shifted. The walls he had built around himself walls that had once been indestructible were starting to c***k.

He didn’t want to need her. He didn’t want to depend on anyone ever again. But in that moment, he couldn’t deny it.

"You’re right," he muttered after a long pause. "Maybe I’m not ready for the whole truth. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to stop looking."

helen’s lips curled into a faint, knowing smile. "I wouldn’t expect you to. But be careful, Martins. Not everything is as it seems. You’re already walking a dangerous path. And there are others who would rather you stayed blind to what’s really going on."

Martins watched her, his heart racing. What does she know? What does she really know? He couldn’t shake the feeling that her words carried more weight than she let on.

As she walked to the door, she paused, turning back to him once more. Her eyes met his, and for a moment, there was an understanding between them. She was offering him something a way forward but at what cost?

"Think carefully about your next steps," she said softly, then turned and left the room, leaving Martins alone in the silence once more.

But the questions she’d left him with about her, about Charlotte, about Victor, and about his own shattered life would haunt him for days to come.

And as he lay there in the darkness, Martins knew one thing for sure: nothing would ever be the same again.