Chapter 2
I woke to bright lights and the sound of machines.
For a moment, I did not know where I was.
My mouth tasted like metal.
My arm felt heavy.
My back ached so deeply it seemed to pulse with my heartbeat.
Then I heard James.
“I told you she was sick.”
His voice was raw.
Angry.
Afraid.
A woman answered calmly. “Mr. Bennett, your wife is receiving IV antibiotics and fluids. Her fever is still high, but she is stable. We need to monitor her closely.”
Hospital.
I was in the hospital.
I turned my head slightly.
James sat beside the bed, one hand wrapped around mine, his eyes red and swollen.
He looked like he had aged ten years.
“James,” I whispered.
He stood so quickly his chair scraped the floor.
“Liv.”
His face crumpled.
“I’m here.”
“What happened?”
“You passed out.” His voice broke. “The ambulance came. Your fever was 104 by the time they got there.”
My eyes burned.
“The baby?”
His face softened painfully.
“We’re not pregnant, Liv.”
For one fevered second, confusion swept through me.
Then I realized.
I had said it because pain and fear had blurred memories together.
Not baby.
Kidney.
Fever.
Hospital.
Dorothy.
I closed my eyes.
“My arm hurts.”
James looked down.
His expression turned dark.
“I know.”
I followed his gaze.
My left wrist and forearm were bruised badly, purple-black marks shaped like fingers wrapped around my skin.
Dorothy’s fingerprints.
The nurse came in and checked my temperature.
She glanced at the bruises.
Her expression changed, but she stayed professional.
“Mrs. Bennett,” she said gently, “can you tell me how this happened?”
James went still.
I swallowed.
His mother dragged me off the bed.
The words sat on my tongue like stones.
For years, I had softened Dorothy’s behavior.
She didn’t mean it.
She’s lonely.
She’s protective of James.
She grew up differently.
I had used excuses like blankets to cover sharp objects.
But this bruise did not want a blanket.
This bruise wanted air.
“My mother-in-law grabbed me,” I said. “She pulled me off the bed while I was sick. I fell.”
James closed his eyes.
The nurse nodded slowly.
“Thank you for telling me.”
James sat again, both hands covering mine.
“I should have been there.”
“You were getting my medicine.”
“I should have locked the door.”
I wanted to comfort him.
That was my habit.
James blamed himself, and I rushed to soothe him.
But my body hurt too much to protect anyone from truth.
“You should have believed me earlier,” I whispered.
His face went pale.
“What?”
I turned toward him.
My throat was dry, but my heart was suddenly clear.
“I told you she hated me.”
He looked down.
“I know.”
“I told you she said I was lazy. That I trapped you. That I made you weak.”
His jaw clenched.
“I know.”
“And every time, you said she was just difficult.”
Tears filled his eyes again.
“I was wrong.”
“Yes,” I said.
The word landed between us.
Small.
Devastating.
He nodded.
“I was wrong.”
Before he could say more, the door opened.
Dorothy stepped in.
She carried flowers.
White lilies.
My favorite.
That made my stomach turn.
She had never once remembered my favorite flower.
James stood immediately.
“What are you doing here?”
Dorothy lifted her chin.
“I came to see my daughter-in-law.”
“No.”
Her eyes flicked to me.
“Olivia, tell him not to be cruel.”
My hand tightened around the blanket.
James stepped between her and the bed.
“You need to leave.”
Dorothy laughed softly.
“James, don’t be ridiculous. I am your mother.”
“You hurt my wife.”
“I tried to help your wife get out of bed before she ruined an important dinner.”
“She was sick.”
“She is always sick when responsibility appears.”
James’s entire body went rigid.
The nurse returned, sensing the change.
“Is everything okay?”
Dorothy smiled at her.
“Yes, dear. Family emotions. My son is upset.”
The nurse looked at me.
I shook my head.
“She cannot be here,” I whispered.
The nurse’s face hardened.
“Mrs. Bennett does not want you in the room.”
Dorothy’s smile slipped.
“She is confused from fever.”
James said, “She knows exactly what she wants.”
Dorothy’s eyes filled with tears instantly.
Weapon tears.
The kind I had seen at birthdays, holidays, dinners, whenever James said no.
“After everything I sacrificed,” she whispered. “My own son throwing me out for a woman who cannot even host dinner.”
James turned toward the nurse.
“Please call security.”
Dorothy froze.
“You wouldn’t dare.”
He looked at her.
“I already did.”
Security came within minutes.
Dorothy did not scream.
She performed.
She trembled.
She whispered that she was worried.
She told them I had fainted because I refused to eat.
She said James was emotional.
She said she had never laid a hand on me.
Then the nurse lifted my arm gently and said, “These marks were documented.”
Dorothy’s mouth closed.
As security escorted her out, she looked back at me.
The hatred in her eyes burned hotter than my fever.
James saw it.
Finally.
When she was gone, he sank into the chair.
“I’m filing a police report.”
My heart stuttered.
Against Dorothy.
Against his mother.
I looked at him carefully.
“Are you sure?”
He met my eyes.
“No,” he said honestly. “I’m terrified.”
My chest tightened.
“But I’m doing it anyway.”
For the first time since the bedroom floor, I believed him.
Not completely.
May you like
But enough to close my eyes.
Enough to sleep.
