From Abandoned Puppet to the Tycoon's Contract Wife

The darkness was heavy and suffocating. Gabrielle felt like she was falling down a bottomless concrete shaft. The wind roared in her ears. The memory of the street rushing up to meet her face played on a loop in her mind. Just as the panic threatened to crush her chest, a warm light pierced the blackness. A voice spoke. It was low, rough, and incredibly gentle. It sounded like it was coming from a different lifetime. "I am sorry I was late," the man's voice said. The sound vibrated against her skin. It was filled with a raw, bleeding agony. In the dream, a large, calloused hand wrapped around her freezing fingers. The heat from his palm seeped into her bones, chasing away the chill of Johan's apartment. "I should have been there sooner," the voice continued, breaking slightly under the weight of a profound, unspoken grief. "I promise you, I will not lose you again." The words washed over her like a sedative. The falling sensation stopped. She felt safe. A warm, damp cloth gently wiped the dried tears from her cheeks. The touch was so reverent it made her chest ache. "Gabby, do not be afraid," the voice whispered, right next to her ear. "I am here. No one will ever hurt you again." In the physical world, Colvin sat in the leather chair beside the hospital bed. He held Gabrielle's limp hand in both of his. He pressed his forehead against her knuckles. The words he had just spoken were the confession he had choked down for five years. He knew she was unconscious. He knew she could not hear him. This was his penance. The heavy wooden door of the VIP suite clicked open. Nurse Chloe Baxter stepped into the room. She saw the billionaire holding the unconscious woman's hand and immediately stopped in her tracks. She kept her eyes glued to her clipboard. Colvin lifted his head. The raw vulnerability vanished from his face in a fraction of a second. His blue eyes turned back to ice. He gently placed Gabrielle's hand back on the mattress. He stood up and walked over to the nurse. "When she wakes up, you will not mention my name," Colvin said. His tone left no room for negotiation. "You will tell her a good Samaritan delivery driver found her and brought her in." Chloe blinked, confused, but she nodded quickly. "Understood, Mr. Sykes." Colvin turned and looked at Gabrielle one last time. He needed to leave before she opened her eyes. He could not let her see him. Not yet. He walked out of the room, the door clicking shut behind him. Hours later, the morning sun sliced through the blinds and hit the foot of the bed. Gabrielle's eyelashes fluttered. She groaned softly as a dull ache throbbed behind her temples. She forced her eyes open. The ceiling was bright white. The faint smell of antiseptic stung her nose. She tried to sit up and realized she was wearing a soft cotton hospital gown. The scratchy gray suit was gone. Panic flared in her chest. She remembered the street. She remembered falling. And then she remembered the smell of cedar and the sharp jawline. She remembered the voice in her dream talking about a library. She rubbed her forehead. It was just a hallucination. Her brain was misfiring from stress. The door pushed open. Nurse Chloe walked in with a warm smile. "Ms. Webb, you are awake," Chloe said. "How are you feeling?" Gabrielle pushed herself up against the pillows. Her muscles felt weak. "Why am I here?" Gabrielle asked. "You collapsed on the street last night," Chloe explained, checking the monitor. "The doctor said it was extreme exhaustion and severe malnutrition. Your body just shut down." Gabrielle swallowed hard. Her throat was dry. "Who brought me here?" Gabrielle asked.