After Divorce, I Married My Husband's Enemy

I stood outside Room 302, shivering in the sterile hospital corridor. Bill paced the bright hallway, furiously rubbing his temples.

The heavy door creaked open. Dr. Miller stepped out, a silver clipboard clutched in his hand.

"Mr. Montgomery," Dr. Miller began, glancing down at his notes. "The patient suffered minor abrasions. A few scrapes on her knee and elbow. She is perfectly fine."

"Minor scrapes?" Bill demanded, stopping in his tracks.

Inside the room, Diana shrieked. "My chest! Bill, it hurts! I can't breathe!"

Dr. Miller frowned and stepped back inside. I followed Bill to the doorway, hovering just out of sight.

Diana lay on the hospital bed, clutching the sheets. As the doctor leaned over her, she grabbed his white lapel. She whispered something fast and urgent. I watched her slide a thick, white envelope from her designer purse directly into his coat pocket.

Dr. Miller froze. He glanced at the bulge in his pocket, then cleared his throat. He stepped back out into the hallway, his face flushed. He actively avoided my gaze.

"Apologies, Mr. Montgomery," Dr. Miller announced, his voice suddenly grave. "I misread the initial chart. The trauma from the fall triggered a severe cardiac relapse. She is in critical condition."

"A heart relapse?" Bill asked, the color draining from his face.

"I saw her pay him," I stated, stepping forward.

Bill whipped around. His eyes widened before narrowing into slits. "Are you insane?"

"She handed him an envelope, Bill! She's faking the whole thing."

"You pushed her down a flight of marble stairs," Bill snarled. He reached out and grabbed my upper arm, his fingers digging into my skin. He dragged me away from the door, pulling me into the center of the crowded waiting lobby.

"Let go of me!" I shouted, stumbling over my own feet.

Patients and nurses stopped to stare. Whispers broke out across the room.

Bill released my arm and pointed at the floor. "You owe her a life. Kneel."

"Excuse me?" I asked, my voice trembling.

"Kneel and apologize to her, Olivia. Right now."

"I will never apologize for something I didn't do," I shot back, lifting my chin.

"You nearly killed a woman!" Bill shouted, his voice echoing off the tile walls. "Get on your knees!"

"No."

Bill glared at me. The veins in his neck popped. He pulled his phone from his pocket and tapped the screen.

"Fine," he said. He dialed a number and put it on speaker. "Cancel all of Olivia Montgomery's accounts. Freeze the joint cards. Yes, effective immediately."

"Bill, stop," I warned.

He ignored me, dialing another number. "Marcus. Pull Olivia's upcoming symphony tour. Tell the board she is indefinitely suspended."

"My music has nothing to do with this!" I yelled, stepping toward him.

"If she plays a single note in this city, I'll pull my funding," Bill finished, hanging up the phone. He shoved it back into his pocket. "You have nothing without me. Get out of my sight."

I stared at him. The man I married had vanished entirely. I turned my back on him and walked away, my legs feeling like lead.

I found a vending machine near the surgical wing. I fed my last crumbled dollar into the slot. A scalding cup of black coffee slid out. I picked it up, my hands shaking so badly the hot liquid sloshed over the rim.

"The acquisition of the east wing is complete, Mr. Thorne," a man in a gray suit said, walking down the hall toward me. "We can finalize the medical supply contract by morning."

"Make sure the board signs the papers today," Shawn Thorne replied.

I didn't care about their hospital business deal. I turned around, my vision blurry with unshed tears. My foot caught on the linoleum seam. I stumbled forward.

Shawn stopped. He looked at my messy hair, my bruised cheek, and the wet tears clinging to my eyelashes. He reached into his pocket and offered a folded white handkerchief.

"Take this," he offered, his tone completely flat.

I stared at the pristine fabric. Then I looked up at his face. It was the same arrogant man from the street. The one who nearly ran me over.

"Did Bill send you?" I demanded, gripping the paper cup tighter.

Shawn raised a dark eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

"Are you his lawyer? Did he send you to bully me into signing a confession?"

"I don't know who Bill is," Shawn replied.

"Liar!" I shoved his hand away.

The paper cup crushed in my grip. Dark coffee erupted over the rim, splashing directly onto his pristine charcoal jacket. The hot liquid soaked into his expensive shirt, leaving a massive, dark stain.

The assistant gasped. "Mr. Thorne! Are you alright?"

"Don't touch me," Shawn ordered the assistant, raising a hand.

He looked down at the ruined suit. He didn't yell. He didn't flinch.

"Get away from me!" I shouted, backing up until my shoulders hit the vending machine. "Tell Bill he can rot in hell!"

Shawn wiped a drop of coffee from his sharp jawline. A sharp, humorless laugh escaped his lips. His dark eyes locked onto mine, freezing me in place.

"Very well," Shawn murmured, his voice dangerously smooth. "I'll remember you."

He turned and walked away, his stride commanding the entire hallway. His assistant scrambled to follow him.

I took a two-hour bus ride back to the coastal villa. I had nowhere else to go. My accounts were frozen, and my wallet was empty.

The front door swung open just as I walked up the driveway. Bill carried Diana over the threshold. She rested her head against his chest, playing the fragile victim perfectly.

"What are you doing here?" Bill demanded, stopping in the foyer.

"This is my house," I replied, crossing my arms.

"Not anymore," Bill shot back. "Diana needs a peaceful environment to recover from her heart condition. She is moving in."

"She is your assistant!" I argued.

"Bill, don't yell at her," Diana whimpered, clutching his shirt. "My chest hurts."

"Diana takes the master suite," Bill announced, tightening his grip on her waist. "You sleep in the guest room."

"You're giving her our bed?" I asked, my voice cracking.

"You lost the right to that bed when you pushed her," Bill said. "If you upset her again, I'll throw you out on the street."

He carried her up the sweeping staircase. The heavy oak door of the master bedroom clicked shut.

My jaw clamped shut. I dragged my feet down the hall to the cramped guest room. I collapsed onto the narrow mattress, staring at the blank ceiling.

Midnight arrived in heavy silence.

Thirst drove me out of bed. I crept down the hallway toward the kitchen. As I passed the master suite, a sliver of light spilled through the crack in the door.

Bill must have left it open when he went to his study.

I paused. A low, conspiratorial voice drifted out into the quiet hallway.

"Yes, the money was transferred," Diana murmured.

I pressed my back against the wall, straining to listen.

"The medical records are done," she continued, her tone entirely devoid of the weakness she showed earlier. "The doctor played his part perfectly. Bill bought the entire heart attack story."

A soft, wicked chuckle floated through the gap in the door.

"Next, we just need to get her completely out of Bill's life."