chapter 2

Esita’s POV

Murderer? What does he mean? I paused for a brief second to look at him.

Who even is this guy?

He was towering over me and he was still at the ward entrance. I could feel it – his strength, and his anger.

It felt like he was waiting for someone or something to lay his hands on. It better not be me.

“Uhm, sorry. Did you just call me a murderer?”

As if on cue, the doctor walked in and gestured for the nurse to excuse herself.

“I haven’t introduced both of you. Miss Esita, this is Lucian, Alpha of the Blue Moon pack.”

That’s why I could feel his strength, The Blue Moon are the biggest pack in the city. What could I have possibly done to anger a man like this? Can this cursed day get any worse?

Lucian looked and me with a visible frown.

“So you’re the one who wants to kill my daughter, eyy? You think you own the roads, huh?”

I was fifty shades of confused. “Daughter? Who’s your daughter?”

He wanted to answer, but the doctor interrupted. “She’s in the VIP ward. You see, Miss Esita, you were not the only victim of your tragic accident.”

My heart dropped to the floor. What have I done to this man’s daughter?

“I’m sorry. I had no idea–”

“Of course you had no idea, you were driving around like you own the place! And now, my daughter is in the ICU because of morons like you.

The least you could have done is look both ways before crossing an intersection. Or fucking slow down. You are going to pay for this, Esita. I will make sure you pay for it, and I will not stop until I feel the price is at a satisfactory amount.”

“I’m sorry, Lucian. I swear to God I didn’t head out with the intention to f*cking kill someone. I didn’t see her there, I swear–”

“How would you see her there when you’re cruising at 200 a fucking hour? You weren’t even on a federal road or an interstate route, you were on a country lane and you kept driving like you were in McLaren or some bullshit.

Do you ever stop to think about the possible consequences of your reckless actions before you do them anyway? Or are brats like you used to getting whatever they want whenever they want?”

I was a mixture of shocked and angry. I understand that he’s probably grieving someone, but he shouldn’t make it sound like I purposely left Symon’s house looking to kill someone.

I’m mourning too, God damn it. Does he not sense my sadness the way I sense his anger? Is it different for him?

“Listen, Mr. Lucian. I understand that you are very angry right now, and I am deeply sorry for whatever I may have done which contributed to the present state of things.

But we don’t know each other. I’m in a state of grieving too, so I understand how you’re feeling right now. Trust me.”

He let out a slight laugh. “Trust? I should trust you? Your confidence amazes me. What exactly are you mourning that makes you think you’ll be able to understand me? Your car? Huh?”

“I’m mourning my child.”

He paused for a bit, leaving the air filled with a silence that was stomach churning and uncomfortable. After a few seconds, he turned to the doctor, as if trying to confirm what I just said. When he got nothing, he turned back to me.

“What happened to the child?”

“I was pregnant. Long story short, I got beat up and lost the pregnancy. It was on my way away from the situation that the crash happened. I imagine you now see that I was not in the right frame of mind.”

His anger gave way to the tiniest bit of concern. He came a bit closer, close enough that he could barely talk and I would still be able to hear.

“I would never forgive you for what you did to my daughter.” With those words, he stormed out of the room.

I looked on in complete shock.

A few hours later, I felt I was strong enough to sit up, so I called for the nurse. There was only one thing I wanted to do.

“Hey ma’am. How are you feeling now?”

“Strong,” I smiled back. She seemed warm and welcoming.

“strong enough to go see someone in a separate ward perhaps.”

Her warm smile gave way for a furrowed frown. “Ma’am, you shouldn’t be moving this early into your recovery. It’s been barely 6 hours from a life-threatening accident and you want to leave your bed? I’m sorry, but you can’t.”

I strained visibly, but I managed to sit up in my bed. “I want to see someone, nurse. I have to see her.

And neither you nor anyone else in this fucking hospital would stop that from happening. And as for the recovery, don’t worry about it, alright? I recover faster than most people anyways. I’ll be fine.”

She looked concerned, but I could tell she was going to give in. Her mind was searching for reasons not to, but she came to at a dead end every time. Eventually, she sighed and brought a wheelchair from the store on the other side of the room.

With a lot of help from the nurse, I left my bed and got in the wheelchair. Then she started wheeling me outside the ward when she had confirmed that I was ready to go.

“So, where exactly are you going? Or, who do you want to see, ma’am?”

“You know that tall guy in a grey suit? The one that was in my ward a few hours ago?”

“Yes, Mr. Lucian. What about him?”

“I need to go to the ward where his daughter is currently in. She’s the one I want to see.”

“Are you sure, ma’am?”

“Yes. She was a victim of my reckless driving, and I have to apologize to her. Or I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself.”

“Alright ma’am.” She sighed and silently started wheeling me to where the doctor described as the VIP ward.

We eventually got to the ward, and someone was sitting in a bed right at the other side close to the windows. The nurse wheeled me to her, then turned and left the ward.

“Hey,” I smiled to her.

“Oh hello,” She smiled back. She seemed nice, such a sharp contrast from her father. Maybe my perspective was skewed.

“My name is Esita, and I wanted to get to know you. Are you by chance Alpha Lucian’s daughter?”

“Oh yes, my name’s Layla, Esita. How are you feeling?”

“Much better, as you can see. I can move around now. I came here to actually apologize to you, to be honest. I had an altercation with your dad earlier, and in the midst of that, I discovered that my accident was your accident too.

I had no idea, and it was extremely reckless of me, and I don’t know how to make it up to you, but for what it’s worth I’m sorry.”

She smiled softly and held my hand. “I am not angry with you, Esita. These things happen, and when they do, we are powerless to control or change it.

He told me about you, and what happened. I’m genuinely sorry you went through that. No one should be made to lose a pregnancy, and especially not in the manner in which you lost yours.”

Her eyes were compassionate and warm, her touch was gentle and kind. She was sincere, and that was already a truckload more than whatever Symon did for me while we were together.

“So I take it you’ve forgiven me?”

“Of course. Trust me, I wasn’t even offended when I regained consciousness.”

I smiled. “Then maybe you could do me a solid?”

“And what might that be?”

“Could you help me talk to your dad? I don’t know for sure, but he seemed pretty angry when he left my ward. I really need him to forgive me so I can be at peace with myself.”

She sighed. “It’s going to be difficult, but I’ll talk to him for you. Is that fine?”

“Of course it is. Thank you so much, Layla. I’ll try to see you before you leave.”

With that, I called for my nurse and she wheeled me back into my ward.

By the next night, the doctor had decided that I was recovered enough to be discharged. He came in the morning to do some final tests on my vitals and some more nonsense, then came back a few hours later to tell me /I was free to go.

I got up from the bed and went to the bathroom to shower. I was hot and in need of a proper bath, but I figured I would do that when I got home. How am I even going to face Symon after all this? Do I just go to my mum’s place for the meantime?

I got dressed and headed to the doctor’s office before I left. As I was entering, I made a mental note to check on Layla before I left the hospital.

“So, Miss Esita, how do you wish to foot your bill?”

I felt nervous all of a sudden. “How much are we talking about exactly?”

“$20,000 ma’am.”

I felt like time had frozen, leaving me in this very peculiar situation.

“I don’t exactly have that amount on me.”

“Well, we take electronic transfer, ma’am.”

“I don’t exactly have it in my bank either.”

“I’m afraid we wouldn’t let you leave without footing your medical bill ma’am.”

“Alright, can you give me a minute? Let me call my husband.”

“Sure thing, ma’am.”

I got on the phone with Symon. Please pick, Sy. I need you to answer.

He picked the call. “What?”

“Uhm, hey. I’m currently in a fix at the hospital. I got in an accident after I left yours, and now I have to foot the bill. I don’t have the cash.”

“Alright, text me the address.”

After he dropped the call, I heaved a sigh of relief and sat down, waiting for his arrival.

He came in the office roughly twenty minutes later, and headed straight to where I was sitting. He handed me an envelope and turned to leave, not even uttering a single word.

I felt it, and it did not feel like twenty thousand dollars. Maybe it’s a cheque.

So I tore apart the envelope’s seal, and brought out a legal document with the family attorney as the heading.

A little more looking made me understand what had just happened.

Symon just handed me divorce papers.