Too Late To Want Me Back

The sharp smell of antiseptic was the first thing I noticed as I slowly opened my eyes. My chest hurt when I breathed. The Brown estate was gone. Instead, I was in a private medical suite, with a heart monitor beeping somewhere nearby. For a moment, I stared at the ceiling, trying to remember what had happened.

"Don't try to sit up yet," a familiar voice commanded from the bedside.

I turned my head weakly. Olivia was sitting in an armchair, her tailored blazer wrinkled, her dark eyes fierce with a mixture of intense worry and anger. Standing quietly near the door was Margaret, her hands still trembling as she twisted the edge of her apron, her eyes red from crying.

"Olivia..." my voice came out as a raspy whisper. "What... what happened?"

"What happened is that you almost let that wretched family kill you, Bianca," Olivia said, as she leaned forward and grabbed my bare left hand. "Margaret smuggled you out through the side entrance. If she hadn't called me, and if my private medical team hadn't pumped your stomach the second you arrived, you wouldn't be waking up right now."

My mind raced back to the dinner table. The bitter taste of the iced tea Selena had poured. The cold, disgusted look on Dominic’s face as he peeled my fingers off his arm and accused me of faking a performance.

"It wasn't a panic attack, was it?"

Olivia exchanged a look with Margaret before pulling a printed medical chart from the table. "The toxicology report just came back from my lab. It was an acute dose of a concentrated respiratory depressant mixed with a severe localized allergen. It mimics a violent asthma attack perfectly. To anyone watching, it looks like a hysterical wife throwing a dramatic tantrum because she can't handle her husband’s first love being at the table."

"She did it, Selena poured the glass. She told me this morning that she would make sure high society destroyed me..."

"And she almost did," Olivia interrupted, her jaw tightening. "Because she knew the Browns would never risk a media scandal during a multi-billion-dollar sector merger. She knew Eleanor and Dominic would cover it up themselves, call you unhinged, and use it as an excuse to lock you away or force a divorce."

"They didn't even call an ambulance, Miss Bianca," Margaret spoke up from the door, her voice cracking with pure emotion. "When you collapsed in the hallway, Master Dominic told the staff to leave you alone. He said you were just trying to embarrass him in front of the investors. I’ve watched that family protect their reputation with cold blood for decades, but tonight... tonight I couldn't stay silent anymore."

I stared at the ceiling, a profound, shattering emptiness washing over me.

Six years of managing his home, silencing my own identity, and shrinking myself to fit into the dark corners of Dominic Brown’s life. I had defended him to Olivia. I had told myself his coldness was just stress, that his neglect was just the price of his ambition. And in return, when I was dying, he had looked at me with embarrassment and walked away.

Suddenly, the doors of the medical suite burst open.

Dominic strode into the room, his tie slightly loosened, his face tight with controlled rage. He didn't look at the heart monitor or at the IV line in my arm. His dark eyes locked straight onto me, completely ignoring Olivia and Margaret.

"Do you have any idea what you've done, Bianca?" Dominic’s voice was a low, furious hiss as he stopped at the foot of the bed. "You vanished from the estate, leaked a medical emergency to a private clinic, and left my mother to explain to the board why my wife had a hysterical breakdown over dinner. The press is already sniffing around."

I looked at him, really looked at him. For the first time in six years, I didn't see the brilliant, untouchable billionaire I loved. I just saw a profoundly blind, arrogant man who couldn't see past his own empire.

"I was poisoned, Dominic."

"Stop this, Bianca! The doctors at the estate said it was a panic attack brought on by hyperventilation. You're still trying to make Selena the villain because you're jealous of her position on the board. Your paranoia is crossing a line, and I am sick and tired of handling your tantrums while trying to run a global dynasty."

"Get him out of here before I file a restraining order and use my firm to dismantle his public image by sunrise," Olivia stood up, her voice vibrating with rage.

Dominic didn't even blink at her threat. He kept his eyes on me, his expression hardening into a ruthless mask. "Put your ring back on, discharge yourself, and come back to the penthouse, Bianca. We have a press conference tomorrow to clean up this mess. Don't make yourself a bigger liability than you already are."

He turned to leave, entirely certain that I would follow him, just like I always did.

"Dominic."

My voice stopped him at the door. He turned his head, a confident, expectant smirk barely ghosting his lips.

I reached over to the bedside table. My hand was steady, the tremble entirely gone. I picked up the platinum wedding band, the ring, and slowly, I let the ring drop into the metal medical tray beside the bed.

"I am not going back to the penthouse," I said, looking him dead in the eye. "I am not attending your press conference. And I am never wearing that name again."

Dominic’s smirk vanished as he stared at the ring in the tray. For a split second, a flash of genuine shock crossed his face, but his pride instantly clawed its way back.

"You're making a mistake, Bianca. "If you walk away from me over this, you leave with nothing. The Brown family will strip you of every social standing, every cent, and every door in New York. You won't survive a single week without my name."

"Then let's see who survives, Dominic."

Without another word, he turned and stormed out, the doors slamming shut behind him.

The silence returned, but the air felt entirely different. I looked over at Olivia, whose fierce expression had transitioned into a slow, proud smile.

"Margaret," I said softly, turning to the older woman who had risked everything to pull me from that house. "Pack whatever secret records you have kept from that mansion. Don't leave a single scrap behind."

"They're already secured, Miss Bianca," Margaret whispered, a spark of quiet defiance in her eyes.

I turned back to my best friend, my voice losing its exhaustion, replaced by a cold, sharp focus. "Olivia, prepare the divorce papers. It's time to call my grandfather."