The billionaire husband who tried to kill me

Olivia's POV The steady beeping of machines pulled me from the darkness like a rope dragging me up from the bottom of a deep well. My eyelids felt heavy, as if someone had sewn weights into them. The fluorescent lights above burned my eyes, making me squint as I tried to focus on the sterile white ceiling. My mouth tasted like metal and bitter medicine. Every muscle in my body ached, and my head pounded with a rhythm that matched the heart monitor beside my bed. I tried to sit up, but my arms felt like jelly. "Easy there," a gentle voice said from somewhere to my right. I turned my head slowly, fighting the dizziness that came with the movement. A young nurse with kind brown eyes was adjusting my IV drip. Her name tag read 'Sarah.' She smiled at me with genuine warmth. "You're safe now, Mrs. Caldwell. How are you feeling?" "Like I got hit by a truck," I croaked, my voice barely above a whisper. "What time is it?" "It's almost noon. You've been sleeping for about twelve hours." Sarah checked the chart at the foot of my bed. "The doctor said that was normal after what you went through. Your body needed time to process all those drugs they gave you." The memories came flooding back like a dam breaking. Victoria's cruel laughter. Natalie's satisfied smirk. The masked women with their knives. David crashes through the bathroom door like a hero from an action movie. "David," I said suddenly, trying to push myself up on my elbows. "Is he okay? Did they hurt him?" "Mr. Chen is fine," Sarah assured me, gently pushing me back down onto the pillows. "He's been here most of the night, actually. I only left about an hour ago to get some coffee and make phone calls. He should be back soon." Relief washed over me. At least David was safe. At least someone in this world still cared whether I lived or died. "The police want to talk to you when you feel up to it," Sarah continued, making notes on my chart. "But there's no rush. The doctor's orders are rest and fluids for now." I nodded weakly. The police questioning could wait. Right now, I just wanted to close my eyes and pretend none of this had happened. Pretend my husband hadn't tried to have me killed. Pretend my sister didn't hate me enough to watch me die. "I'll let you rest," Sarah said, patting my hand gently. "Press the call button if you need anything. I'll be just down the hall." After she left, the room fell silent except for the soft humming of medical equipment. I stared at the ceiling, trying to make sense of everything that had happened. How had my life fallen apart so completely in just a few days? Four years of marriage. Four years of thinking I was loved, wanted, cherished. All of it had been a lie. Marcus had never loved me. He'd married me for my family's company shares, nothing more. I was just a business transaction to him. And Victoria. Sweet, quiet Victoria who I'd grown up with, who I'd shared secrets with, who I'd considered my real sister. She'd been plotting against me for months. Maybe years. The betrayal cut deeper than any physical wound. These people had been my family. My whole world. And they'd been planning to destroy me all along. A soft knock on the door interrupted my dark thoughts. I looked up, expecting to see David or maybe Dr. Martinez, but the hallway was empty. Strange. "Hello?" I called out, but got no response. I waited a few moments, listening carefully. The hospital was full of sounds, footsteps in the corridor, distant conversations, the ding of elevators. But there was no one at my door. Must have been my imagination. The drugs were probably still messing with my head. I was just settling back into my pillows when I noticed something that made my blood run cold. There, on the small tray table beside my bed, was a piece of white paper that definitely hadn't been there before. With trembling hands, I reached for it. The paper was folded once, with no writing on the outside. My heart hammered against my ribs as I unfolded it. The message inside was typed in simple black letters: 'This time, David won't save you.' The paper slipped from my fingers and fluttered to the floor. I stared at it in horror, my mind racing. Someone had been in my room. Someone had gotten past hospital security, past the nurses' station, past whatever protection the police might have arranged. They'd walked right up to my bed while I was sleeping and left me a death threat. But who? And how? My hands shook as I reached for the call button, but then I stopped. What was I going to tell the nurses? That someone had threatened me? They'd want to see the note, call the police, make a big fuss. And what if whoever left it was still nearby? What if they were watching, waiting to see my reaction? I forced myself to take slow, deep breaths. Think, Olivia. Think clearly. The hospital room was private, on the fourth floor. There were security cameras in the hallways. Nurses at the station. Visitor logs at the main entrance. Getting in here without being noticed would be difficult for a stranger. But it wouldn't be difficult for someone who belonged here. Someone who had legitimate access. Someone who could walk these halls without raising suspicion. My blood turned to ice water as the realization hit me. It had to be someone close. Someone with connections. Someone who could get past security because they had every right to be here. Marcus. He was my husband. He could visit me anytime he wanted. Victoria. She was listed as my emergency contact, my sister.Natalie. She was family too, Marcus's sister. Even Dr. Martinez or the nursing staff, anyone could have slipped that note onto my tray while pretending to check on me. But wait. Sarah had said David only left an hour ago. She'd been in and out of my room regularly. When would someone have had the chance to leave this note without being seen? Unless... Unless it was someone Sarah wouldn't question. Someone who belonged here. Someone she'd assume had permission to be in my room. My stomach twisted with a new fear. The attack at the hotel had failed. The masked assassins were in custody. But clearly, whoever wanted me dead hadn't given up. They were just getting more creative. And more personal. The note wasn't just a threat. It was a message. 'I can get to you anywhere. Even here, in what should be the safest place. Even with guards and cameras and nurses. You're never truly safe.' I looked around the room with new eyes, searching every shadow, every corner. Was someone watching me right now? Were there cameras hidden somewhere? How did they know David had saved me? How did they know he wouldn't always be there to protect me? The machines around me seemed louder now, more ominous. Every sound in the hallway made me jump. Every footstep could be someone coming to finish what they'd started. I picked up the note from the floor with shaking fingers and read it again. The typing was neat, professional. No fingerprints, probably. No way to trace it. But the message was clear: 'We're not done with you.' My heart pounded so hard I was sure it would set off alarms on the monitors. I needed to call David. I needed to tell the police. I needed to get out of here. But first, I needed to figure out who I could trust. Because as I stared at that threatening note, one terrifying truth became crystal clear: Only someone very close to me could have gotten into this room unnoticed. And that meant the real danger wasn't some stranger in a mask. It was someone I knew..