You Can't Afford My Broken Heart

Katharine Kent POV: Three days later, I opened my eyes. The ceiling was a stark, clinical white. I was lying in a private suite at a luxury rehabilitation center in Long Island. An IV dripped steadily into my bruised hand. Through the floor-to-ceiling windows, I could see a manicured French courtyard and a large, stone decorative fountain. The very first thing I did, before calling a nurse or checking my bandages, was reach for the new phone Ethan had left on my bedside table. My fingers trembled slightly, but my resolve was absolute. I opened the airline app, selected a one-way ticket to Paris departing as soon as I was medically cleared, and pressed confirm. The sharp click-clack of stiletto heels echoed in the hallway. The door handle turned. Andrew walked in, his expression tight with restless irritation. He wore a perfectly tailored navy suit that felt entirely out of place in the sterile room. Without asking, he strode past the bed and shoved open the heavy glass doors leading to the terrace, letting in a blast of freezing winter air as if he couldn't stand the suffocating smell of the hospital. Right behind him, Alida stepped in, clutching a massive bouquet of white lilies. I didn't move. I just slowly turned my head toward the window, closing my eyes. I shut them out entirely. Andrew stopped at the foot of the bed. He let out a harsh breath, clearly annoyed by my silence. "You need to be reasonable, Katharine," Andrew said, his voice hard and unapologetic. "It was chaos. I had to make a split-second decision to clear the area. You can't hold a grudge over an accident." Alida stepped forward, her heels sinking into the plush rug. She walked to the bedside table and forcefully shoved the lilies into a glass vase. The sickly sweet smell filled the room. Andrew turned his head to check his phone. In that blind spot, Alida leaned over me. Her face twisted into a vicious sneer. She reached down and dug her sharp acrylic nail directly under the medical tape holding my IV needle. She scraped hard against the bruised vein. A sharp jolt of pain shot up my arm. My eyes snapped open. Reacting on pure instinct, I yanked my arm back violently. My wrist caught the metal IV pole. The heavy steel stand crashed into the bedside table with a loud, metallic bang. At that exact second, the door swung open. Ethan's closest friend, a hot-headed guy named Marcus, walked in to visit. Marcus took one look at Alida standing over the bed and the crashed IV pole. His face turned purple. "Are you out of your damn mind?" Marcus roared, pointing a thick finger at Alida. "You have no shame coming in here!" Marcus lunged forward. He grabbed Alida by the shoulder, intending to physically shove her out of the room. Alida shrieked. She threw her arms up and intentionally let her knees buckle, falling backward onto the floor. Andrew looked up from his phone. He saw Marcus grabbing Alida, and he saw Alida on the floor. His eyes went dark with rage. "Get your hands off her!" Andrew yelled. He lunged across the room. I, terrified that Andrew was going to punch Marcus, tried to sit up and reach my good arm out to stop him. Andrew didn't look at me. He just saw an obstacle in his path to Alida. He threw his arm out and shoved me backward with brutal force. My body was already weak from blood loss. The violent push threw me entirely off balance. I stumbled backward, my bare feet slipping on the polished floor. I fell backward through the glass doors Andrew had left wide open, stumbling out onto the freezing terrace. I couldn't stop my momentum. I tipped over the low stone ledge. With a heavy splash, I plunged backward into the freezing water of the courtyard fountain. The shock of the early winter water was instantaneous. It soaked through my thin hospital gown in a second, biting into my skin like needles. The violent impact against the stone basin ripped the fresh stitches in my calf and forearm wide open. A thick cloud of bright red blood immediately bloomed in the crystal-clear water of the fountain. Andrew froze. His hand was still extended in the air. He stared at the red water spreading around my pale body. His chest seized. A sudden, cold spike of genuine panic pierced his anger. Marcus didn't hesitate. He cursed loudly and jumped straight into the freezing water, wrapping his arms around me to haul me out. I lay shivering on the wet stone. The pain was blinding. My vision was tunneling into darkness. I blinked water from my eyelashes. I looked up and saw Andrew standing on the terrace, his face pale, taking a hesitant step toward me. My lips pulled back. I gave him a smile. It was a chilling, hollow smile that didn't reach my eyes. I looked at him like he was already a corpse. Then, my eyes rolled back, and I slipped into unconsciousness. The shrill wail of the medical code alarm echoed across the Long Island estate. A swarm of doctors and nurses rushed onto the terrace. They physically shoved Andrew backward, forming a wall of scrubs between him and my bleeding body.