After His Brainwash, I Fought for My Family

Chapter 2

The second I flung those files and snapped my furious question, the entire hallway went dead silent.

Veronica clutched her red, stinging cheek, a flicker of panic darting across her eyes. But she recovered fast. She gritted her teeth, and in the blink of an eye, she'd pulled on the whole wronged, pitiful victim act. "Captain Walker's memory was stuck right before the fire! He's extremely insecure right now. I put down 'fiancée' as part of the emotional substitution desensitization therapy for his PTSD!" Her eyes glistened with unshed tears as she yelled at the top of her lungs. "You're the one who signed the search abandonment form back then! Now that you see Captain Walker survived, you're crawling back to leech off him." She turned to the hallway. "Security! Get this crazy woman out of here, now!"

A couple of burly security guards stepped forward immediately, yanking roughly at my arms. "Come on, lady! No nonsense, don't cause trouble here!"

In the middle of the shoving, my foot slipped. I stumbled hard, and my lower back slammed full force into the doorframe. A sharp, twisting cramp ripped through my lower abdomen out of nowhere. My face drained of color in an instant, and cold sweat beaded all over my forehead.

"Mom! Mom, are you okay?" My son's tiny, childish voice echoed in my head, warbling so bad with panic I could barely make out the words.

The stabbing ache in my gut and the humiliation of being manhandled by those guards? All of it morphed into cold, unshakable rage the second I heard my son's voice. I had nothing left to lose.

"Don't touch me!" I screamed. I don't know where the strength came from, but I wrenched my arms free of the guards' grip hard. Gritting my teeth through the pain, I pointed at the system files scattered all across the floor. "Emotional substitution therapy?" I let out a sharp, bitter laugh. "Dr. Cale, if this is all legitimate treatment, why did you hide his marital status in the system? Why did you get your uncle, the vice president, to forge these rehabilitation records for you? Are you actually treating him, or are you just chasing your own shady, selfish ends that you can't let anyone find out about?"

"I… I didn't… This is to keep the patient from getting triggered by old memories…" Veronica's face went as white as a sheet. She stumbled backward step by step, her words tripping over each other so bad she could barely string a full sentence together.

The nurses and hospital leaders standing around? The trusting looks on their faces shifted instantly to shock, then plain, undisguised contempt.

"What are you all standing around for? Drag her out!" She shrieked at the security guards, practically foaming at the mouth with rage.

One guard hesitated for a second before stepping forward, his hand reaching out to grab me.

Suddenly, another hand slammed down and caught his wrist mid-move!

It was Zack.

He didn't even have shoes on, barefoot as he planted himself directly in front of me, a living shield. His pale face was twisted with unbridled fury, and he tucked me fully behind his back, out of harm's way. He glared daggers at the guard who'd tried to touch me, his eyes blazing with unmistakable warning even though he couldn't get a full word out.

Staring at his broad, yet still gaunt back, my eyes burned with sudden heat, and most of the hurt and grievance weighing on my chest melted away in an instant.

The nursing home's senior administrator saw what was happening, his face turning livid with rage. He shot Veronica a vicious glare before waving wildly at the security guards to back off. "Nonsense! She's family. How dare you try to throw her out?" He looked at another nurse and barked an order. "Avery James, go arrange the VIP family apartment for Mrs. Walker right now. Get her settled in immediately!"

The temporary family apartment in the nursing home wasn't huge, just a one-bedroom with a small living room, but it was spotless and quiet, which was all that mattered.

The entire walk over from the main building, Zack stuck to my heels like a silent, towering iron statue, not leaving my side for even a second. His eyes were glued to me the entire time, like he was convinced I'd vanish into thin air the second he blinked.

The second we stepped inside the apartment, the air went still with a weird, charged quiet. He didn't sit down. Instead, he started pacing slowly around the room, doing a full sweep. That sharp, stony face of his didn't show a single emotion, but his gaze was so intense you'd think he was in a high-stakes security detail, scouting for threats.

Before long, he grabbed some scrap cardboard and a pair of scissors from the balcony, then crouched down on the floor and started cutting silently.

I was totally confused about what he was up to, until I saw him pick up the rounded cardboard pieces he'd cut, walk over to the sharp corners of the coffee table and the cabinets, and start wrapping them layer by layer with tape, carefully padding every sharp edge.

His throat was too badly damaged to speak, so this quiet, awkward, almost withdrawn gesture was his way of checking every last possible hazard in the room that could make me bump or scrape myself.

"Whoa! Even though Dad's a total silly dummy and his memories are all messed up, his instinct to love you hasn't faded one bit, Mom!" My son's cute little voice in my head had finally lost that earlier panicked edge, now soft and wobbly. "Back in my past life, after I was gone, Dad did exactly this too. He stayed up alone all night padding every sharp furniture edge at home, crying the whole time he did it. Mom, don't let his cold face fool you! He's even been walking on his tiptoes this whole time on purpose, scared he'll startle you."

I stared at Zack's broad, half-crouched back, and the tight, strung-out tension I'd carried in my chest all day loosened just a little, for no reason I could name.

Once he finished padding the last sharp edge, Zack stood up and walked over to the table to pour a glass of warm water. He carried the glass over to me and held it out. His deep, dark eyes were locked on me, and his Adam's apple bobbed up and down with visible effort. It looked like he was trying to say something to me. But in the end, he couldn't get a single sound to come out.

He frowned in frustration, but a faint, suspicious flush crept up the tips of his ears. He just nudged the glass a little more firmly into my hand, his movements still stiff.

I took the water and sipped it slowly, while he stood straight as a ruler right next to me, like a loyal guard.

But peace like this was almost always just the brief, quiet lull right before a storm hits.