Page 124 of The Temporary Bride

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” I growl, and a nurse passing by gives me a wide-eyed look at the fury in my voice.

The name Carter gave me sits in my chest like a lump of hot iron. I’m already turning over what it means and how long it’s been going on when movement catches my eye through the window of Chloe’s room.

Her head is turning on the pillow.

I hang up without another word to Carter and push through the door, crossing the room in three strides. Two nurses come in right behind me, moving quickly to her bedside and checking the monitor, but I barely notice them.

My entire focus is on Chloe as her eyelids slowly flutter open.

Chapter 46

Chloe

I wake up slowly, groggy and disoriented. There’s a dull ache through my body, and I can’t place where I am at first. The sterile smell and the beeping machines pull me the rest of the way back. I’m in a hospital.

Two nurses are beside my bed, their faces kind and professional. One of them adjusts the IV drip while the other leans toward me. “Mrs. Thorne, can you hear me?”

“Yes,” I manage. My voice comes out raspy and weak, barely sounding like mine.

“How are you feeling?”

“Sore,” I tell her honestly. Everything hurts, a deep ache that’s settled into every part of me at once.

“You were hit by a car,” she explains. “But you’re going to be okay. You’ve been healing well. We’ve had you heavily sedated to manage the pain and allow your body to recover.”

Hit by a car.

I fall silent for a moment, trying to piece together what I remember. The road, the dark, the ringing in my ears so loud it swallowed everything, and then the headlights right there with no warning at all.

As the nurse continues talking me through things, I notice someone else in the room. My eyes shift past her shoulder and find Tristan hovering near the door, watching me. His hair is pushed back from his face, dark circles under his eyes, his jaw unshaven. His shirt is wrinkled, his jacket gone, and he’s gripping the doorframe with one hand like he’s not sure he’s allowed to come closer.

How long has he been here?

The nurses step back as he slowly moves to the side of my bed, gripping the railing with both hands.

“How is she? Is she okay?” he asks, his voice a low rumble, his eyes not moving from my face even though the question is aimed at the nurse.

“She’s doing very well,” the nurse tells him. She glances at me with a small smile. “Your husband hasn’t left this room once since you came in. Not to sleep, not to eat properly. You’ve got a good one here, Mrs. Thorne.”

Something twists in my chest at that. I look at his face, at the exhaustion in every line of it, the shadows under his eyes, the tightness around his mouth, and I think about the last thing I remember before those headlights. The ring on his desk. His voice flat and final. The way he looked at me like he didn’t know me at all.

The nurses finish their checks and file out, pulling the door closed behind them. The click of the latch sounds very loud in the sudden quiet. Now it’s just the two of us and the beeping of the monitor and the thin afternoon light coming through the blinds in pale strips across the floor.

Tristan reaches out, his hand shaking slightly as he tries to brush my hair back from my face. I turn my head away, just a little, before I can stop myself. His hand pauses in the air for a second before he pulls it back, setting it carefully on the railing instead. Neither of us says anything about it, but the space between us feels very large suddenly.

“Chloe…” His voice is rough.

“I didn’t do it,” I say at once, my voice hoarse. “I never stole any files from you. I never⁠—”

“I know.” He nods, his expression grim.

“You know?”

“I did what I should have done in the first place and had an investigator from our security firm look into it properly. They figured out exactly what time the files were accessed and by whom, using security footage and facial recognition.”

I shift on the bed. My brain is still moving slowly, the painkillers making everything feel slightly removed. “Who was it?”

Tristan’s jaw tightens. He holds my gaze for a moment before he says it. “It was Genevieve. She used your computer in your office.”