Revenge on My Ex Husband

Chapter 6

Under His Watch

Lora’s POV

The moment Vivian’s cheerful voice cut through the air, my world stopped spinning.

“Chloe, dear! You’ve arrived on schedule. Your brother came back with his wife. Isn’t this wonderful?”

My body went rigid against Drake’s chest. His arms were still around me, strong and steady, but I could barely feel them. All I could see was Jackson standing at the bottom of the stairs, his familiar handsome face frozen in shock.

And beside him—Chloe. Elegant, polished, her long silky hair cascading over one shoulder and her sharp eyes gleaming with malicious delight.

The same woman who had called me useless, who had kissed my husband—my ex-husband—right in front of me while I lay broken on the floor.

The same woman who had taken everything from me now stood in the place I had just been dragged into.

My stomach twisted violently. The nausea I had been fighting since the mall surged again, mixing with pure humiliation. My legs trembled. If Drake hadn’t been holding me, I would have collapsed.

Jackson’s gaze locked on mine. For a split second, something like regret flashed across his face, but it was gone too fast. Chloe’s lips curved into a sweet, poisonous smile as she stepped closer, her arm still looped possessively through Jackson’s.

Without another word, Drake turned and carried me past them.

Jackson’s face, Chloe’s smile, Vivian’s voice, they all blurred into something distant and distorted, like a nightmare I couldn’t fully wake from. The only thing that felt real was the way Drake held me, firm and unyielding, his arm locked around me as if he wouldn’t risk letting me slip even for a second.

“I’m here,” he murmured against my hair, his voice low enough that only I could hear. “You’re safe.”

Safe.

The word should have meant something. It should have calmed the chaos inside me, steadied the panic clawing at my chest, but it didn’t. Not when everything felt like it was collapsing all over again.

My fingers clutched weakly at his shirt, the fabric creasing beneath my grip. The pain at my side pulsed faintly, but it was no longer the only thing I felt. My stomach twisted uneasily, a deeper discomfort settling beneath the surface, sharp and unfamiliar.

The movement around us didn’t stop. Doors opened before we reached them, voices rose, footsteps followed, but Drake didn’t slow. His pace remained steady and purposeful as though nothing else in the world mattered beyond getting me out.

“Prepare the car.”

The command came out cold, leaving no room for hesitation.

By the time we reached the entrance, everything was already in place. The car door opened instantly, and he lowered me inside with care that didn’t match the tension in his body. His hand lingered for a second, steady against my side, before he moved in beside me.

The door shut, sealing us into a silence that felt too heavy to breathe through.

He didn’t speak.

His hand pressed against my side again, right over the dark stain that had begun to spread across the fabric of my dress. The pressure was firm, deliberate, meant to stop the bleeding, but it made me flinch.

His grip adjusted immediately.

“Stay with me.”

His voice was quieter now, but there was something in it that made my chest tighten.

“I’m fine…” I whispered, though the words felt distant, like they didn’t belong to me.

My head felt light, my thoughts slipping in and out of focus. The world outside the window blurred as the car moved, lights stretching into streaks that made everything harder to hold onto.

Another wave of discomfort rolled through me, deeper this time, not just from the cut. My hand moved instinctively, settling against my abdomen in a small, unconscious attempt to steady myself.

I felt the air shift and watched his gaze drop.

I froze.

Slowly, I lowered my hand, letting it fall back to my side as though it had meant nothing at all.

The silence that followed felt different.

My vision dimmed slightly, darkness creeping at the edges. I closed my eyes for a second, just to breathe—

“Lora.”

His voice cut through, low and firm.

My eyes opened again.

“Don’t drift off.”

There was no panic in his tone, but something about it felt like a warning rather than a request.

The car slowed, then stopped. Before I could react, the door opened and everything rushed back in, voices, movement, urgency.

He didn’t let go. Not even for a second.

I was lifted again, my body instinctively leaning into him as he carried me inside. The brightness hit me first, harsh and blinding, followed by the sterile scent of the hospital that made my stomach churn.

“Mr. Grayson, this way.” One of the hospital staff said.

“No waiting.”

“Prepare a room immediately.”

The voices overlapped, but none of them questioned him. People moved quickly, clearing the path, doors opening before we reached them.

I was placed onto a bed, the sudden loss of his arms leaving me colder than I expected. Hands moved over me immediately, checking and assessing.

“Where is she injured?” The doctor asked.

“Side wound. We need to check for internal damage.” His tone sharpened as soon as he saw the blood.

“We should run a full scan.”

The words blurred together, but one phrase cut through everything. Full scan.

My breath caught.

No.

Panic rose suddenly.

If they checked too much… if they looked deeper…

“I’m fine,” I said quickly, the words rushing out before I could stop them. “It’s just a cut.”

The doctor frowned slightly. “We can’t be certain without a full examination. There could be internal bleeding.”

“I said I’m fine.”

This time, the edge in my voice gave me away. The room fell quiet for a brief second.

Drake hadn’t moved, but his attention had changed.

He was watching me now, not just with concern, but with something sharper, more focused.

The doctor hesitated, glancing toward him as if waiting for direction.

Drake didn’t look away from me. Not even for a second.

The weight of his gaze pressed against me, steady and unreadable, as though he was trying to piece something together.

Then, finally, he spoke.

“Treat the wound first.”

The words were calm, controlled, but final.

The doctor nodded immediately. “Of course.”

Hands moved again, this time focused only on the visible injury. The fabric of my dress was moved aside carefully, antiseptic stinging as it touched my skin. I tensed, my fingers tightening against the sheets, but I forced myself to stay still.

“It’s not deep,” one of the nurses said quietly.

Relief flickered through me, but it didn’t last.

Because I could still feel him…watching.

When the bandage was secured and the pressure eased, the urgency in the room began to fade. The voices softened, the movements slowed, and I was eventually transferred to a quieter room.

A private one.

The lights were dimmer here, the air calmer, but the silence that settled around us felt heavier than before.

I lay back against the pillows, my body finally starting to register the exhaustion that had been building. My eyes drifted away, focusing on nothing in particular.

But I knew he was still there.

I could feel it. He was standing somewhere close and watching.

“What aren’t you telling me?”

His voice broke the silence, it was low, but it carried weight that made my chest tighten.

I swallowed. “Nothing.”

The lie came too easily.

He didn’t respond right away. And somehow, that made it worse.

The silence stretched, thick and unrelenting.

Slowly, without thinking, my hand shifted against the sheets, moving instinctively toward my stomach.

I stopped halfway. But it didn’t matter, I knew he had seen.

I turned my face away, closing my eyes as if exhaustion had finally taken over.

And somehow, I knew he had noticed something I hadn’t meant to reveal.