When The Devil Wants

Chapter Thirteen

(Eleanor's POV)

I closed the ward door behind us.

The sound was soft and final.

The doctor stopped in the middle of the hallway and turned to face me.

I waited. My hands were shaking against my sides, but I kept my face still.

“Ms. Thornhill,” she began, and then hesitated.

Her eyes moved over my IV tape, to my bare feet. I knew how I must have looked to her, but all that didn't matter.

“We need to discuss Ms. Alexander’s condition.”

My stomach tightened and a lump formed in my throat.

I nodded anyway, like I was ready for whatever came next.

“She sustained significant trauma due to the gunshot,” the doctor continued carefully.

“As a result, she’s experiencing retrograde amnesia.”

The words didn’t make sense at first. I tried to put together what she was trying to say, but my mind refused to think in the direction of her words. I didn't want to believe it.

“For now, she may not be able to access recent memories.”

“Things from the past several months could be unclear to her.”

It felt like the floor disappeared under me. Everything felt like a dream, one

“I understand this is a lot to process,” the doctor said quickly.

“But it’s important that she remains calm.”

“We need to avoid anything that could overwhelm her right now.”

“Anything that might cause her to shut down completely.”

I swallowed. My throat felt dry and useless.

“Will it come back?” I managed to ask.

The doctor gave me a small, careful smile.

“Memory is unpredictable,” she said.

“In many cases it returns gradually.”

“For now, we’re treating this as temporary.”

Temporary.

That word felt like a lie I was supposed to believe.

The doctor shifted her clipboard to her other arm.

“Do you know any of Miss Alexander’s family?” she asked.

“Or a legal guardian we can contact?”

“We still need someone to sign a few forms for her.”

I opened my mouth and nothing came out. Her family will soon come for me, that alone I was sure of.

I was the only one safe with the information right now.

“I... I’ll handle it,” I said finally.

My voice sounded far away even to me.

The doctor nodded once, like she believed me.

“Thank you, Ms. Thornhill.”

“Please stay in the waiting area until we call you.”

And then she walked away.

Her shoes clicked down the hall until the sound disappeared.

I didn’t move.

The hallway was too bright.

The beeping from the rooms was too loud.

Everything started replaying behind my eyes.

Tiffany in my apartment, laughing over coffee.

When she dragged me to the party where she had told me to forget everything and live life for once like I mattered.

Everytime she whispered “I’ve got you, Len.”

All of it was gone from her head. Like I’d never existed.

My chest caved in on itself and I couldn’t breathe through it.

I pressed my palm to my ribs to hold myself together.

Evidence number one from Sarah meant nothing now.

My only witness didn’t remember my name.

And somewhere out there, Sarah was winning.

I didn’t go to the waiting area.

I sat right outside Tiffany’s ward instead.

The plastic chair was cold through the thin hospital gown.

My bare feet were tucked under me because the floor was too clean to touch.

The nurses had told me to wait.

That they would come when they needed the forms signed. So I waited.

A TV was mounted high on the wall across from me.

It was playing some morning show with too much color and too much noise.

I wasn’t listening. I was counting my own breaths and trying not to fall apart.

Then the screen cut to breaking news.

The sound turned up on its own.

My name was the first thing I heard.

“Eleanor Vale is still at large tonight,” the anchor said.

The picture beside her was mine.

An old photo of me at a charity gala, smiling in Marcus’s arms. I stared at it. That wasn’t me anymore.

“She is currently on the run after an attempted murder against popular celebrity, Stella Hayes” the anchor continued.

“Another attempt targeted at M. Tiffany Alexander of the well known Alexander family.” she paused to catch her breath.

“Police have issued a statement asking the public for help locating Mrs. Vale.”

My hands went numb. Almost immediately, another reporter cut in. His voice was sharp and eager.

“What has her husband said about all of this?”

The first anchor nodded like she’d been waiting for the question.

“Marcus Vale released an official statement this morning.”

“He said he never believed his wife was capable of such actions.”

“He condemned her crime and said he will cooperate fully with the investigation.”

“He also asked for privacy during this difficult time for the Vale family.”

The words hit me one by one. Condemned. Cooperate. Privacy.

He made me sound like a stranger he barely knew. Like I was a problem he was cleaning up.

My chest caved in, for he wasn’t just taking my shares. He was erasing me in public.

The TV kept talking but I couldn’t hear it anymore.

There was only a ringing in my ears and the taste of metal on my tongue.

I looked down at my phone.

It was still clutched in my hand from the call about Tiffany.

My finger hovered over my contacts.

It moved on its own, scrolling past names I didn’t trust. Past everyone who had already chosen a side.

It stopped on one name. I hadn’t saved it, but I knew the number. He told me to call when I was ready.

My thumb shook for a second too long. Then I pressed it.

It rang once twice, on the third ring, someone picked up.

I didn’t wait for him to speak, neither did I wait to hear his voice or ask if this was a mistake.

“I accept the deal,” I said.

The words came out steady and somewhat louder than I expected.