The Billionaire Who Wants Me Back

Chapter Three

The Next Morning

The typical sterile smell that usually plagued hospital's hallway lingered in the air, mixing with the muffled sounds of distant conversations and the occasional beep of medical equipment.

Laura stood just outside the hospital room, her back pressed against the cold walls of the ward. She could hear soft murmurs echoing from within, but she couldn’t quite make out what the conversation between Dr. Farrow and Ethan was about—it was probably about his state of health.

It was as if her ears were filled with cotton, blocking the words that could possibly tell her more about Ethan—more about what had happened to him and whether she had done the right thing by coming here. She looked down her gown brushing it gently.

Her fingers quivered nervously at the edges of the bag she was holding, the snacks inside barely noticeable as the weight of her thoughts consumed her. She wondered, for the hundredth time, if visiting him was the right thing. The man who could have killed her with his rage last night if she had not knock him out with that lamp.

The man she had once trusted, now reduced to nothing but a broken shell of the man she had once married. Could she really help him? Could she bring herself to face him after the terror of last night?

Lost in her tumbling thoughts, she barely noticed Dr. Farrow stepping out of the room, his white coat swishing as he approached her, his expression unreadable.

“Ms. Brooklyn,” Dr. Farrow said, jolting her back to the present.

She looked up, her heart sinking into her chest. She hadn’t realized how much time had passed, how much she had been standing out there carried away by her indecisive thoughts.

“Doctor, how is he?” she asked, her voice quiet but shaky.

Dr. Farrow smiled kindly, his hands tucked into his coat pockets. “He’s fine, Ms. Alder. The wound is minor. Just a bump on the head. As for the fainting, it was a result of alcohol consumption. Nothing to be too concerned about.” he added.

She exhaled in relief, though she couldn’t fully shake the knot in her stomach. “It wasn’t my fault, then?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper, though the question was more to herself than to the doctor.

“Not at all,” Dr. Farrow replied firmly. “He’ll be fine. Don’t worry.” His gaze softened as he gave her a reassuring nod. "It's not your fault, Ms. Brooklyn. You did what anyone would do in your position."

She nodded slowly, unsure of what to say next. The tension in her chest had yet to ease, but she forced a smile anyway. “Thank you, Dr. Farrow.”

With a final nod, the doctor turned and walked away, leaving her standing at the door, the bag still clutched tightly in her hands. She hesitated before entering the room, feeling like an intruder in a space that should have felt familiar, but now only felt cold and alien.

She stepped inside, the door clicking shut behind her.

Ethan lay in the bed, his body propped up slightly with the aid of a pillow, his eyes turned towards the wall, his head wrapped in bandages. The sight of him. The sight of what she had done to him still made her heart race with guilt, of what happened last night but she had to do it—one of them would have still ended up here in bandages. She had to keep facing him.

When Ethan had heard the door click open, he turned his head slowly, eyes meeting hers for the briefest of moments before he turned away again his gaze fixed on the window. Laura's heart clenched.

She walked forward, her steps measured, and sat before him. The bag of snacks shook slightly in her hands as she pulled it open, her fingers fumbling with the contents. She offered him a packet of crackers, her voice tentative as she spoke.

“Here, Ethan. I brought you something.”

He didn’t move at first. His eyes remained fixed on the side of the room, distant, angry. He didn’t even look at the food she offered.

Without warning, Ethan’s hand shot out, hitting the snacks out of her hand with an angry swipe. The crackers flew across the floor, scattering like broken glass.

Laura flinched, a tear slipping down her cheek. “Ethan…” she whispered.

“What happened?” Ethan growled, his voice low and filled with venom. “What happened after I fainted?”

She hesitated. The words stuck in her throat. Her breath caught in her chest, unsure of what to say. But Ethan's glare made it impossible to lie. “I panicked," she said, her voice trembling. "I called the medics... I didn't know what else to do.”

Ethan scoffed, his eyes narrowing as he sat up, clearly still weak but determined to get the answers. "That’s it? You just called the medics?"

“I….I also called the police,” she said softly in a descending tone.

Ethan eyes lit as the word escaped her lips. “You did what!?” He yelled sitting upright. “What did you tell them? If they come after me I'm going to rip you apart and you know that!” Ethan said with threatening eyes.

She swallowed, feeling the weight of the lie she'd told him. “I—” She paused, glancing down at her hands before continuing, “I lied to the police. I told them it was the first time you’d been drunk like that and that you would never want to hurt me intentionally.” She sighed, her shoulders sagging as if a weight had settled on her chest. “I didn’t want them to blame you. I wanted to protect you, Ethan.”

A harsh laugh escaped him, and he turned to look at her, his eyes seething with anger. "Protect me? You lied for me?" His voice rose, the room vibrating with his fury. "You outed me to the police, Laura?"

“No!” she shouted back, her chest heaving. “I didn’t say anything bad, I just lied to keep them from arresting you! I just didn't want this issue to get a whole lot complicated. It might get out of hand and I'm not good with handling attention that comes with a scandal.” she said immediately lowering her voice after raising her voice at him.

His eyes burned into hers. “Lying to cover for me isn't a favor, Laura.” He let out a chuckle filled with mockery. “You shouldn’t think you’re doing me any favors by lying.” Ethan said adjusting the pillow that was propping him.

The tension in the room thickened, the silence that followed hanging heavy between them. Ethan stood suddenly, his body swaying slightly, still weakened by the alcohol and the impact of the fall.

“Ethan, you’re not fit to leave!” Laura cried out, rising to her feet to stop him, her hands reaching for him. Just in that moment she had realized that she had raised her voice.

He pushed her hands away, his body unsteady but his fury clear in his eyes. “I don’t need your pity,” he snarled, grabbing his hospital robe tighter around his body, the bandage on his head still visible. “I’m fine. Let me go.”

Before she could stop him, Ethan turned and stormed out of the room, his footsteps heavy on the floor. Laura stood there, frozen, her hands shaking. She had tried to help him, tried to do what she thought was right, but all he saw was the lie.

The door slammed behind him with a finality that echoed through her chest.