In Love with the Devil

Chapter 3: A Reason to Keep Moving

Linda's POV

“What did you think, huh? That I'd end up with someone like you? A woman completely beneath my world?”

Alexander's words were still echoing in my mind when pain spread through my body and pulled me back to consciousness. Tears stung my eyes as I gasped awake, the darkness around me slowly giving way to the steady beeping of a monitor. The sharp scent of antiseptic filled the air, mixed with the faint hum of machines.

Something tugged at the back of my hand, and when I forced my heavy eyelids open, everything blurred before slowly coming into focus.

White ceiling. White lights. White walls.

My thoughts were still hazy, but Alexander's words came rushing back.

“This is the woman I chose.”

“She’s the woman I see a future with.”

“Not you.”

A tear slipped down my cheek as I looked at the IV taped to my hand. The haze slowly cleared, and one question finally came to me.

Where was I?

I tried to sit up, but a sharp pain shot through my temple and another ache pulled at my side. My hand immediately went to my waist.

“Easy.”

A gentle hand pressed against my shoulder, easing me back against the pillows. I looked up at a middle-aged doctor watching me with quiet concern.

“H... how...” My throat felt raw. “How did I get here?”

“You were brought in late last night,” he explained. “The driver involved in the collision brought you here himself.”

“Collision?”

He nodded. “You were in a road accident.”

Fragments of the night returned. Dark streets. Blinding headlights. A scream. Then nothing.

“You were unconscious when you arrived,” the doctor continued. “The driver stayed until we knew you were out of danger. He covered your medical expenses before leaving and asked us to call when you woke up.”

“He... stayed?”

“He did.”

I lowered my eyes. “I see.”

“The good news,” he said, checking the chart, “is that aside from the bruises, mild concussion, and a few stitches, there doesn't appear to be any permanent damage.”

Relief should have followed, but exhaustion settled deeper instead.

“However, you lost a considerable amount of blood.” His gaze moved to my waist. “The impact reopened your tattoo wound. You only got it yesterday, didn't you?”

Heat rushed to my face. “...Yes.”

He didn't ask about the initials, and I was grateful.

“We've cleaned and redressed it. You'll need to avoid tight clothing, unnecessary movement, and anything that puts your body under stress.”

“The important thing is that you're alive, Miss Hart.”

Alive.

I looked down at the blanket, unsure whether to feel grateful or broken.

The door opened, and a young nurse entered with a tray of medication.

“Good morning, Doctor.”

“Morning.”

She checked my IV, adjusted the drip, then glanced toward the television mounted on the wall.

“Oh...” She laughed softly. “They're showing them again.”

The doctor looked up from the chart. “Who?”

“The Luthor engagement,” she replied, nodding toward the screen.

I followed her gaze.

Alexander stood beside Vivian, surrounded by reporters and smiling as though nothing had changed.

“They really do make a beautiful couple,” the nurse said, unaware of the pain her words caused.

The doctor glanced at the screen. “They've been all over the news since last night.”

The nurse sighed. “Imagine being engaged to Alexander Luthor. Vivian Ashford really is lucky.”

My fingers clenched around the sheets. I couldn't look away. There was no regret in Alexander's expression, no trace of the man who had shattered everything I'd believed in. The reporters laughed and smiled around them until one question broke through.

“Mr. Luthor, when did you know Vivian Ashford was the woman you wanted to marry?”

I lowered my gaze, unable to listen to his answer.

“So...” The doctor's voice pulled me back. He stopped when he saw my face. “Goodness gracious... Does it hurt anywhere?”

Only then did I realize I had been crying. I quickly wiped my cheeks.

“...I want to go home.”

The room fell quiet.

The doctor exchanged a glance with the nurse before turning back to me. “I'm afraid that's not possible yet, Miss Hart. You've only just regained consciousness, and after the blood loss, I'd prefer to keep you under observation.”

“No...” I shook my head slowly. “I don't want to be here anymore.”

The nurse looked at me with quiet sympathy, but I couldn't bring myself to care.

“I'll be fine,” I whispered. “Please... just let me leave.”

The doctor studied me for a moment before sighing. “...Alright, Miss Hart.”

He turned to the nurse. “Prepare her discharge papers.”

~

Over an hour had passed since I left the hospital, yet I still hadn't moved from where I'd collapsed against my apartment door. My knees were drawn to my chest as silent sobs shook through me. Inside, everything was exactly as I'd left it. Dresses still covered my bed, my heels lay abandoned on the floor, and my makeup kit sat open on the dresser, all reminders of the evening I'd thought I was going to have with Alexander.

I closed my eyes. If only I could go back a few hours. If only I had never left this apartment.

I checked my phone again.

Nothing.

No missed calls. No messages. No apology.

I stared at the empty screen. “...Why?” I whispered.

How could he?

Even after everything he'd said, I still couldn't make myself believe him. The man I knew had held my hand after exhausting days, pulled me into his arms, kissed me with a tenderness that had never felt fake. He had made me feel wanted, protected, and loved.

Those weren't the actions of a man pretending.

They couldn't have been.

Could they?

I wanted to hate him. I wanted to hate him for humiliating me, breaking my heart, and telling me I was beneath him. But some foolish part of me still hoped my phone would ring and Alexander would tell me there was an explanation, something that could make sense of what had happened.

For three years, Alexander had never made me feel beneath him. So how was I supposed to know I was never meant for his world?

When we first met, I was nothing more than a waitress working long hours just to survive. He was Alexander Luthor, the billionaire whose face appeared in every business magazine and whose attention every woman wanted.

When he asked me out, I laughed. Not because I didn't like him, but because I knew the difference between our lives. Men like Alexander Luthor didn't fall in love with women like me.

I'd refused him again and again, yet he kept coming back, patient and determined to prove that what he felt was real. He was the one who chased me, the one who convinced me that love had nothing to do with money or status.

So why had he stood there last night and made it seem like I'd forced my way into his life? Like loving him had been nothing more than a delusion I'd created?

None of it made sense.

My gaze drifted to the silver bracelet around my wrist. Alexander had clasped it there the night I'd given him my virginity. I remembered how scared and uncertain I'd been, and how he'd kissed away every fear before fastening it around my wrist.

“Now every time you look at this...” he'd whispered against my forehead. “Remember that you're mine... and I'll always protect you.”

A laugh escaped me before turning into another sob.

I'd believed every word because Alexander had never given me a reason not to. Despite being one of New York's most powerful men and having women constantly chasing after him, I'd never doubted his loyalty. Never once had I imagined another woman would wear the ring I believed was meant for me.

My thumb traced the bracelet.

Was any of it real? Or had I spent three years believing in something that never existed?

My phone suddenly vibrated in my hand.

My heart stopped.

Alexander.

I answered without checking the screen. “H... hello?”

“Good afternoon. Am I speaking with Miss Linda Hart?”

The unfamiliar female voice extinguished the small hope I'd held onto.

I swallowed. “Y... yes.”

“Hello, Miss Hart. This is Jasper Enterprise.”

I frowned. “...Jasper Enterprise?”

“Yes, ma'am. We're pleased to inform you that your application has been approved. We'd like to invite you for an interview tomorrow morning at nine o'clock.”

For a moment, I couldn't speak. I'd submitted that application because, even while I was with Alexander, I wanted something that belonged to me, something I'd earned on my own. I never expected to be chosen.

“Hello, Miss Hart?”

The voice pulled me back. “Are you still there?”

“Y... yes.”

“Will you be able to make it tomorrow?”

“...Yes. I'll be there.”

“Wonderful. We look forward to meeting you.”

“Thank you.”

The line went dead.

I lowered the phone onto my lap. I didn't know what tomorrow would bring, whether I would ever stop loving Alexander or if the ache inside me would ever fade.

But tomorrow gave me somewhere to be.

A reason to leave this apartment.

A reason to convince myself I was still capable of moving forward...

Even though a part of me was still waiting for him to come back.