The Billionaire's Broken, Voiceless Wife

Elliot's expression shifted. "I'll be right there."

He hung up and said to Elyse, "Look around for a bit. I'll be back soon. Talk to my assistant if you need anything."

Then he turned and left quickly.

"Elliot!"

Elyse stamped her foot, nearly losing her delicate composure.

Where was he rushing off to so eagerly? To see that bitch Amelia?

No, impossible. Elliot hated Amelia.

And soon she would be Mrs. Hardin. Amelia would be nothing.

When Elliot learned that the location was a hospital, his brow furrowed. "She's here?"

His subordinate chose his words carefully. "Yes, sir. Miss Mcpherson... doesn't look well."

Elliot stopped walking, his eyes turning cold. "You're being reassigned. Ten years out of the country. Don't come back."

The man's face stiffened, but he didn't dare object. "Yes, sir."

After the boss walked away, a colleague muttered, "You know how he feels about anyone defending her. Watch yourself."

In the hospital room, Amelia had just woken up. The college student who had lent her the phone was still there.

"You're awake! Oh, thank God. You coughed up so much blood and passed out. You didn't have any emergency contacts, so I brought you here."

"Thank... you."

"No problem. Um..." The student hesitated, then continued, "I'd like to do a good deed without asking for anything, but I'm a student too. When they brought you in, I had to use my tuition money to pay your bill-it also covered your previous balance. So... could you pay me back?"

Amelia froze, then said apologetically, "I'm... sorry. How much... total? I'll... pay you back."

The student breathed a sigh of relief. "Not too much. Sixty-eight hundred dollars. You can just transfer it to me."

Sixty-eight hundred dollars.

Amelia's breath caught. To her, it might as well have been a fortune.

Once upon a time, she had had more allowance than she could spend, buying every new luxury item without a second thought.

Now she couldn't even afford life-saving medicine.

"Um... do you have it?"

Amelia didn't. But she knew she couldn't not pay this girl back.

"Can you... wait two days? I promise... I'll pay you."

She would find a way. Even if she had to sell her blood.

The student looked like she was about to cry. "I can't wait. My tuition is due tomorrow."

Before Amelia could say *I don't have any money right now*, her eyes caught a figure standing in the doorway. Her body went rigid.

Elliot stood there. She didn't know how long he had been watching.

She forced the words out. "Elliot... Mr. Hardin."

He strode into the room, his eyes sharp and mocking. "Amelia, you're better at hiding than a rat. Did you forget what I said?"

He had said he would send her back to the rehabilitation center.

Her face drained of color. Cold sweat beaded on her forehead. "No... that's not... I wasn't hiding from you. I passed out. When I woke up... you were gone. I had no phone... nothing."

Elliot found her halting speech irritating.

Was she putting on an act for someone? She hadn't had a stutter before. Now she was pretending to be a victim!

He cut her off. "Enough. I don't want to hear your nonsense. Take her back."

The last part was to his men.

Two men stepped forward and dragged her off the bed.

Amelia struggled desperately. "No! I won't go! Don't... don't touch me!"

Fear-carved into her bones-gave her a burst of strength. She shoved one of the men away. In her panic, she collided with an IV stand. It toppled, and the sharp hook at the top swung straight toward Elliot.

He stepped back quickly, but the hook still grazed the side of his neck, drawing a thin line of blood.

The men gasped. "Boss!"

Amelia went white as a sheet, nearly collapsing to her knees. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I didn't... mean to!"

Her terror peaked. Her mind lost all reason. She dropped to her knees and began kowtowing. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"

It was a conditioned reflex-trained into her.

Elliot touched his neck. It stung. His fingers came away with blood.

He rarely got hurt.

The rage building inside him shifted into another kind of disgust when he saw her like this.

"Get up."

She scrambled to her feet, then nearly fell again as pain shot through her knees.

Her cowering posture only irritated him more. "Take her away."

The college student, who had been watching in shock, finally found her voice. "Wait! How can you do this? She's really sick! Why are you being so mean to her?"

Elliot's gaze slowly turned to her-sharp as a blade. "Sick?"

The student was intimidated by his handsome but harsh face, but she pressed on. "Yes! She's sick! Really sick!"

Elliot's lips curled into a cold smile. "What kind of sick? Heart disease? Stomach problems? Or maybe depression? Bipolar disorder?"

With every word, Amelia's body trembled more. Her eyes were full of despair.

The student was confused. "What?"

"How much did she pay you?"

"Huh?"

"Nice acting."

The student understood. "You think I'm an actress? No! She's really sick! The doctor said-"

Elliot picked up the medical chart lying on the bedside table and flipped through it casually. He laughed. "Lung cancer this time? That's new. You're getting more creative. And the props are convincing."

Whether it was the paid extras or the fake chart, she had upped her game.

But her nature hadn't changed.

Amelia swayed, forcing down the metallic taste rising in her throat. Her voice shook. "I'm... not lying. I'm really... sick."

"Do I need to remind you about the time you faked a stomach ulcer by making yourself throw up? Or when you slit your wrists to get me to come home? Or the car accident you staged-ramming into a barrier to put yourself in the hospital? You make me sick, Amelia."

Each word cut like a knife.

And she couldn't deny any of it.

She had done all those things.

During the years when she loved him most-obsessively, like a madwoman-she had done anything to get his attention.

Stalking. Harassing. Faking illness. Attempted suicide. Everything.

Everyone in their circle thought she was a rabid dog.

Of course he hated her.

But now... she didn't dare love him anymore. She didn't want his love. She knew she was wrong. But he wouldn't let her go.

Elliot tore the chart in half. "Enough of these games. It's time to go back."

Go back where?

Back to Westcliff.

The last glimmer of light in her eyes went out. She stopped struggling.

He thought it was because she had been caught.

His men took her away.

Just before she left, she gathered her courage and said, "Can you... give me... some money?"

Elliot stopped walking. The air pressure in the room dropped.

"Just a little... please?"