Chapter 8
"Discharge papers are signed," the doctor said, clipping the pen to his board. "Take it easy for the next two weeks."
Amaris nodded, already dressed in the clothes Cristian had brought-simple black leggings and an oversized cashmere sweater that smelled like him.
Cristian stepped out to bring the car around, leaving her to gather her things.
Amaris walked out of the room, heading for the nurse's station to return her wristband. She turned the corner into the main hallway and stopped dead.
The elevator doors at the end of the hall slid open. Elijah stepped out, his arm wrapped tightly around Jalyn's waist.
Jalyn was wearing a thin hospital gown, her face pale and drawn. She leaned heavily into Elijah's side, her eyes wide and innocent, playing the part of the fragile victim perfectly.
Elijah looked up and saw Amaris. His expression hardened, his eyes narrowing into slits.
"What the hell are you doing here?" he demanded, his voice bouncing off the sterile walls. He started walking toward her, dragging Jalyn along.
Jalyn whimpered, shrinking behind Elijah's back. "Elijah, please, I'm scared," she whispered, loud enough for Amaris to hear. "She looks so angry."
Elijah stopped a few feet from Amaris, his face twisted in disgust. "You're harassing a sick woman now? Apologize to her. Your little stunt today stressed her out so much she almost fainted."
Amaris stared at him, then at Jalyn, who was trembling like a leaf. It was so absurd, so utterly ridiculous, that Amaris wanted to laugh.
Instead, she smiled. A cold, sharp smile that made Elijah falter.
"Go to hell," she said softly. "Both of you."
Elijah's face turned red. He lunged forward, his hand shooting out to grab her wrist. "You ungrateful bitch, I'm not done with you-"
Amaris yanked her arm back. The adrenaline, the humiliation, the weeks of betrayal-it all exploded inside her.
She didn't think. She just swung.
The sound of her palm connecting with his cheek was like a gunshot in the quiet hallway. Elijah's head snapped to the side, the force of the blow staggering him back a step.
He stood frozen, his hand covering his red cheek, his eyes wide with shock. No one had ever hit him. No one had ever dared.
Jalyn gasped, her hands flying to her mouth. "Elijah!"
Amaris stepped closer, her finger jabbing into his chest. "We are done," she hissed, every word dripping with venom. "Do not call me. Do not look for me. You are dead to me."
Elijah's shock morphed into rage. He reached out to grab her again, his fingers closing on empty air.
A large hand clamped down on Elijah's wrist, stopping him mid-motion. The grip was so tight that Elijah let out a grunt of pain.
Cristian stood there, his eyes like black ice. He looked like death incarnate, his jaw clenched so tight a muscle feathered in his cheek.
He twisted Elijah's arm, forcing him down to his knees, then let go with a shove that sent Elijah stumbling into the wall.
"Don't touch my wife," Cristian said. His voice was low, barely above a whisper, but it carried the weight of a death sentence.
Elijah looked up, his face pale. He recognized the man standing in front of him. The most ruthless capitalist in New York. The man who bought and sold companies before breakfast.
"You..." Elijah stammered, his arrogance evaporating. "You married him?"
Cristian didn't answer. He stepped in front of Amaris, shielding her completely with his body. He placed a hand on her lower back, guiding her toward the private elevator.
Amaris leaned into him, her hand shaking slightly, but her spine was straight. She didn't look back.
The elevator doors closed on Elijah, who was still slumped against the wall, his face a mask of impotent fury.
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