Return of the Billionaires' Sister

Elara knew what she would be greeted with before she opened her eyes. The beeping of a nearby heart monitor had recently become such a familiar sound she was beginning to have trouble sleeping without it. That and the sound of nurses talking in the common area outside her door, their quick steps between rooms with sliding doors sometimes thrown open too quickly. She was even beginning to not mind the smell of antiseptic. So Elara took her time opening her eyes. She already knew the room would be empty, and it was. She knew an alarm had already been raised when her heart rate rose above a certain number, and a quick glance at the clock she knew was always on the left side of the room told her it was after 5pm. Which meant that the first nurse who would be coming into her room was Nurse Alex, even if he was in another room now. In less than five minutes she was proved right. Alex came in softly, more out of habit than any concern she would still be frightened of her surroundings. He used to at least come in with a practiced smile and a quick joke, but Elara could see immediately that he was past the point of joking with her. She wondered if it was because she was a “frequent flyer” (as the staff liked to call her), or because he’d had to take over another shift for Nurse Gray. “Seriously, hun? What is it going to take?” He moved around her bed, turning off the alarm, jotting down her new vitals and fluffing her pillow without taking a real look at her. She knew he would have already checked her over completely once the doctors were done when she first came in. He already knew the extent of her injuries, both old and new, probably better than she did. “You know me, I’m stubborn.” Elara tried a joke, the same she had used before, but her throat was sore and she could barely finish before she was dry coughing, prompting Alex to hand her a tissue and a cup of water with a straw. “There’s stubborn, then there’s stupid and I hate to tell you that you crossed that line when you were able to recall all the names of the nursing staff.” She took a moment to think about it. It was a small private hospital, so the staff wasn’t very large, but she did know them…and their schedules. She would sigh, but she knew it would hurt her ribs, which she could tell were in a wrap, but that was better than a cast. Alex finally looked her over, but there was a harshness in his eyes that he used to hide before she became a repeat visitor. Alex’s words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken accusation. Elara Vance, the woman whose existence had become a tapestry of hushed corridors and the metallic tang of disinfectant, met his gaze with a weariness that ran deeper than her aching bones. He was right, of course. Her recall of the staff’s names, their habits, their subtle shifts in demeanor – it was a morbid testament to the sheer volume of time she’d spent within these sterile walls. It was the knowledge born of desperation, of needing to anticipate the slightest ripple in the otherwise monotonous flow of her confinement. She managed a weak smile, a shadow of the humor she once possessed. “They’re good people, Alex. They take good care of me.” Her voice, raspy and fragile, betrayed the lie. Alex stopped mid-motion, his hand hovering over the small tray of medications. His practiced, detached efficiency had long been worn out. “Elara, you know that’s not what I mean. You’ve been through this… how many times now? The bruises fade, the cuts heal, but it always happens again. You’re smarter than this. You deserve more than waking up to beeping machines and my gorgeous face.” He leaned against the bed frame, his posture shifting from professional to something akin to pleading. “There are people who can help. Resources. You don’t have to keep doing this to yourself.” He looked pointedly at the wrapped ribs, then at the faint discoloration on her cheek that the harsh hospital lights did nothing to conceal. The unspoken truth, the narrative of her families escalating cruelty and her husbands willful blindness, hung between them, a suffocating presence Elara had learned to live with. She looked away, her gaze falling on the sterile white ceiling tiles. The thought of leaving, of confronting the life that awaited her outside these doors, was a terrifying abyss, but one she’d been leaning towards more and more. The few fond memories she had of her home had dulled in her mind, becoming little more than a haze she could barely pluck faces from, much less feelings. “It’s… complicated, Alex. Things aren’t that simple.” The words were a balm she applied to herself, a self-deception to ward off the overwhelming reality of her captivity. She knew he wanted to help, truly wanted it, but he couldn’t grasp the invisible chains that bound her, some of her own making but no less heavy. She had no doubt she could start over if she really wanted…but leaving would create a dark hole in her life she didn’t think she could survive. She hated to admit it, but she was afraid of the emptiness that would come with leaving. At least here she had the nurses, she had Alex, and her grandfather. If she left, truly left, what would she have? Elara shook her head, not wanting to go down that slope, especially when she could already hear her heart rate spiking making Alex turn to the monitor sharply. “I’ll think about it. Really,” He raised an eye at her in obvious distrust. “You should go, there’s at least what, three more rooms, and you look like you took two to many extra shifts.” Elara patted the hand that he had rested on the bed rails. Alex hesitated another moment, but finally returned her gesture and left. The resulting silence was only bearable due to the still-constant chatter outside, and the still beeping machines attached to her. She clutched the coarse material of the hospital blanket weakly, letting her fingers curl into it, though when she opened her hands the fabric straighted as though she’d done nothing. As though she hadn’t been there, neither had it, and nothing that she could do would matter. Elara closed her eyes at the first hint of burning behind her eyes. The pain killers were doing there job, as always, but she felt her heart thrumming unevenly the longer the silence stretched with her alone in that blank, cold room. One moment it seemed like it was too fast, the next she seemed to wait an eternity for it to beat. She tried to count how many voices were just outside her door, anything to take her mind off it. To remind her that there were people close enough to call out to if she needed, and they could be here in a second. She also knew that Alex would send his replacement the moment they handed over the shift notes. Just after she heard two nurses move past her room on the way to the cafeteria (too early for their scheduled break, but just before the head nurse was due to clock in, as always), her door opened again. The unexpectedness of the visitor made Elara jump slightly, and it didn’t help when she saw who it was. The cold CEO of Vance Industries, a man known to be emotionless in life and business, a man whose face Elara had memorized and idolized for years, stood just inside her door. His gray eyes swept over her as though she were another piece of furniture in the room as he took everything in. If he was surprised by the sparseness he didn’t show it. If there was even a hint of concern for the woman on the bed with countless machines and tubes sticking out of her the feeling was unable to make an appearance on his blank face. Damien Vance, her husband…the man who put her here…had come to visit.