The Hidden Revenge

At The hospital

“Victor… You’re telling me everything, right?”

Martins’ voice came out hoarse, raw, as his gaze fixated on his old friend. The room was sterile, cold, the walls bearing down on him as his mind worked through the haze of pain that still clouded his vision.

Victor Harrington stood at the foot of his hospital bed, his posture stiff, shoulders tense. His usual confidence was absent, replaced by a stiffness that made Martins’ suspicions rise. There was something wrong in the air, something Martins couldn’t put his finger on. The man who had been his right hand for years was now avoiding his eyes.

“Of course, Martins,” Victor replied, but his voice had a slight tremor. “I’m here for you. I always will be.”

Martins studied him with a sharp gaze, taking in the subtle changes in his demeanor. Victor had always been a man of few words, but now his unease seemed out of place. The way he looked over his shoulder before speaking, the slightly too-tight grip on his sleeve, the faint flicker of guilt that passed over his face when Martins’ eyes narrowed it all added up to something Martins couldn’t ignore.

Martins’ fingers twitched, a sharp pain radiating through his body, but he ignored it. His mind was too sharp to let the physical agony drown out the questions that lingered in his head.

“You’ve been acting strange, Victor,” Martins said, his voice laced with suspicion. “I know you’re worried about me, but you’ve been different since the accident. What aren’t you telling me?”

Victor stiffened. The weight of Martins’ stare pressed down on him. The silence that followed was thick, suffocating, until Victor finally exhaled sharply, a half-hearted smile forming on his lips.

“It’s just the shock of everything, Martins,” Victor said, stepping forward slightly. “You’ve been through a lot. It’s hard for all of us. I I’ve been trying to keep things together, you know?”

Martins narrowed his eyes. The excuses were too rehearsed, too practiced. He’d seen enough in his life to know when someone was hiding something.

Before he could press further, Victor changed the subject, speaking with an intensity that seemed out of place. “The company, Martins. We need to talk about john Enterprises. You’re going to need to sign off on some decisions soon if you want to keep things running smoothly.”

Martins wanted to snap back, but the words caught in his throat. He wanted to focus, to understand what was really happening, but his body was too weak. His mind buzzed with unanswered questions, the connection to his company slipping through his fingers. A moment passed before he spoke again, his voice quiet.

“Victor, what really happened that night?” Martins asked. “You said it was an accident, but why… why do I feel like you’re hiding something from me?”

Victor flinched.

His face paled slightly, and his hand shifted awkwardly at his side. Martins saw it, the tremor in his friend’s usually steady hand. For a fleeting second, Martins could see it an unease, a c***k in the facade.

Victor’s eyes darted to the door, and in that moment, Martins knew. Something wasn’t right.

Before he could react, Victor quickly said, “I’ll leave you to rest, Martins. We’ll talk more later.”

But as he turned to go, Martins’ eyes flicked to the hem of Victor’s sleeve, just barely visible beneath his suit jacket. A small, dark stain marred the fabric a smear of blood. Not his. Not from the accident.

Martins’ heart skipped a beat, a cold chill creeping up his spine. He wanted to call out, to demand answers, but the words were stuck in his throat.

Victor had been lying. And now, Martins had a reason to doubt everything.

The door creaked as it opened, and Charlotte stepped into the room, her soft heels tapping against the polished floor. Her silhouette was framed by the harsh light from the hallway, her figure elegant but distant.

Martins tried to sit up, but the sharp pain in his lower back forced him to stay still, his body betraying him. Still, he lifted his gaze to meet hers, the woman who had been his partner, his fiancée, for years. The woman who had stood by him… or so he thought.

“Charlotte,” he murmured, his voice weak but insistent. “You came.”

She paused at the threshold, her expression unreadable. For a brief moment, Martins saw the old warmth in her eyes the affection that used to shine whenever she looked at him. But it was fleeting, a quick flash that disappeared as quickly as it had come.

“I’m here,” she said softly, stepping inside and closing the door behind her. Her voice, though gentle, was distant, as though an invisible wall had grown between them in the short time since the accident.

Martins’ heart pounded as he watched her approach. Her steps were hesitant, careful, as if she were unsure how to navigate the space between them now. There was a heaviness in the air something that hadn’t been there before. A growing tension that settled like dust on his skin, suffocating in its stillness.

“What’s wrong?” Martins asked, his voice hoarse as he searched her face for any clue. “You’re not the same. You’re ”

He stopped himself, feeling the weight of his words. He didn’t want to push her, not now, but something in the air told him he had no choice. Something had shifted between them, and it was becoming harder to ignore.

Charlotte sat at the edge of the bed, her hands folding in her lap. She was so close, and yet she felt miles away. Her eyes avoided his, looking down at the floor, then briefly toward the window as if the walls of the room had suddenly become too close.

“I’m… worried about you, Martins,” she said, her voice mechanical. “I just… I don’t know what’s going to happen now. Your recovery…” Her words trailed off, unfinished, as though she couldn’t bring herself to continue.

Martins’ pulse quickened, a sharp pain settling in his chest as he watched her. She wasn’t the same. Something had changed in her, something he couldn’t quite place. Her touch had once been a comfort, but now it felt… foreign.

“Worried?” he repeated, struggling to keep the bitterness out of his voice. “Or is it something else?”

She flinched, her eyes flickering to his. “What are you talking about?”

Martins leaned forward slightly, trying to ignore the pull of pain. He could feel the walls closing in, his mind racing. “I’m talking about you. About us. You’ve been distant, Charlotte. And now you’re here, sitting next to me, and yet it feels like you’re already gone. What’s happening? Why won’t you look at me?”

Her hands tightened in her lap, her breathing quickening for a moment. Then, she spoke, her voice barely above a whisper.

“You’re different now, Martins. You’re not the same man you were before the accident. I don’t know if… if I can keep doing this.”

The words hit him like a punch. He froze, his heart stuttering as he processed her words. His world was already shattering, and now this? He had built everything for her, for them. But it wasn’t enough.

“I’m not the same?” he repeated, incredulous. “You think I wanted this? You think I wanted to be like this?” His voice broke, a quiet growl of frustration rising from deep within.

Charlotte looked at him then, finally meeting his eyes. But there was nothing in her gaze not love, not hope, just something distant.

“I have to go,” she said, her voice cold. “I can’t do this, Martins. Not anymore.”

She stood, her movements graceful yet calculated. She moved toward the door, her back turned to him as she spoke the final words that would haunt him.

“We can’t keep this up much longer.”

The door clicked shut behind her, and Martins was left in the oppressive silence, the weight of her words pressing down on him. His heart sank, a mix of betrayal and disbelief coursing through him.

He tried to push himself up, but the pain in his body stopped him. His mind, however, raced.

Charlotte was slipping away. But why? What had changed? What had he missed?

Martins lay back against the pillows, eyes closed, every muscle aching not from the injury, but from the gnawing feeling in his chest. Something was terribly wrong, and he didn’t know how to fix it.

His thoughts were interrupted by the soft sound of a phone ringing in the distance. Charlotte’s voice, muffled, came through the door.

“We can’t keep this up much longer…”

Martins’ heart dropped. The words echoed in his mind like a death knell, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that the woman he loved was slipping through his fingers, and he couldn’t stop it.