7

"Mrs. Banks!" His voice calls out, a last-ditch effort to halt my departure. But I am already charging out of the building, fueled by a potent mix of adrenaline and defiance.

Outside, the rain pours down in torrents, drenching the city streets and creating shimmering reflections of the neon lights. Despite the gloomy weather, there's a sense of freedom in the empty streets.

As I step onto the rain-slicked pavement, I am consumed by my urgent mission. 

I need a new life!

As I make my way through the maze of alleys, the rhythmic patter of the rain soothes my frayed nerves, offering a moment of respite from the tumult of my thoughts.

With every stride, my determination solidifies. I reach for my phone, fingers trembling with anticipation, and dial Drake's number. 

"I was beginning to think you wouldn't care." Drake's voice breaks through the line, clear and professional.

"Drake, meet me as soon as possible," I urge urgently, my resolve unwavering. "I am ready to claim what's rightfully mine."

"Of course! Where shall I find you?" His response is swift.

My heart pounds in my chest, matching the rhythm of the downpour around me, as I dart across the street, my senses heightened by a surge of adrenaline.

Then, in an instant, everything changes. 

The air is rent with the screech of tires and the blinding glare of headlights, bearing down on me with terrifying speed. My body freezes as the realization hits me like a sledgehammer — there's no time to react, no way to escape.

The impact is devastating. The car slams into me with merciless force, wrenching a cry of pain from my lips as I am sent hurtling through the air. Time seems to slow to a crawl as I collide with the unforgiving pavement, the shock rippling through every fiber of my being.

For a moment, I lie there, stunned and disoriented.

The cold tendrils of the downpour seep into my clothes, chilling me to the bone. Each raindrop feels like icy needles against my skin, amplifying the discomfort of my injuries. 

As I lie there, dazed and disoriented, a wave of agony washes over me, engulfing me in a sea of torment. My head throbs with a pulsating ache, and every breath I take feels like shards of glass piercing my lungs. 

The rain beats down on my battered form, mingling with the blood that trickles from countless unseen wounds. 

As the car races off into the night, leaving me battered and abandoned in its wake, a surge of disbelief cuts through the agony pulsating through my body. Despite the overwhelming pain and confusion, I muster the strength to squint through the blur of tears and darkness. And there, in that fleeting moment of clarity, I discern the unmistakable sight of the license plate.

It's Ethan's car.

**

Beep.

Beep.

Beep.

I wake up in the hospital bed. The white, clean, and warm surroundings are better than the street where I passed out from pain. Only the faint scent of antiseptic hangs in the air, a constant reminder of where I am and what has brought me here.

The hospital gown drapes loosely over my body, its pristine white fabric feeling cold and clinical against my skin. I can't help but feel exposed, vulnerable, as if the flimsy garment is a metaphor for my current state of being. 

Beneath its thin layers, bruises bloom like dark flowers. 

As I glance around the room, my eyes settle on the two figures standing before me. The doctor, with his white coat and reassuring demeanor, exudes an air of professionalism. Beside him stands a man in a dark suit, his expression unreadable yet somehow comforting.

Drake...

"Hello. I am glad you woke up. Can you speak?" the doctor's voice is gentle, his concern evident as he approaches. He appears to be in his late fifties, with a mop of white hair and wire-rimmed glasses perched on his nose.

I nod in response, feeling the ache in my body intensify as I shift on the bed. Every movement sends a jolt of pain through me.

Why did Ethan leave me in this condition?

"Open your eyes," the doctor instructs, shining a penlight into my pupils. I comply, wincing slightly at the brightness. "Now open your mouth." He repeats the process, inspecting my throat.

"You're a healthy girl. Despite the injuries, you're doing great," he concludes, his tone soothing yet matter-of-fact.

Turning his attention to the man in the suit, the doctor continues, "You arrived here without documents, young lady. We called the last number on your call log. This gentleman said he's an acquaintance of yours."

Drake stands tall with an air of confidence, his hair perfectly coiffed and framing his chiseled features. His piercing eyes seem to hold a depth of knowledge, and a faint stubble lines his strong jaw. Drake exudes an aura of sophistication and authority. 

Despite his striking good looks, there's a hint of warmth in his smile, suggesting a genuine kindness beneath his polished exterior.

I meet Drake's gaze, silently expressing my gratitude for his presence. He was with me during the accident, a steady voice on the other end of the line amidst the chaos.

But as I contemplate his role in all of this, questions swirl in my mind. Did he call the ambulance? Did he rush to the scene, or was he already nearby? Does he still care about me even though I was a bitch 3 years ago?

"Well, you might feel dizzy, nauseous, and confused," the doctor warns, his voice laced with concern. "It was a serious blow. Do you remember what happened?"

My mind races, desperately searching for answers amid the fog of pain and confusion. My last memory is of Ethan's car striking me with brutal force before disappearing into the night, leaving me broken and alone in its wake. 

But to accuse a man like Ethan Banks, with his wealth and power, would be futile. No one would believe the words of a mere trophy wife against the most influential figure in town. I would be dismissed as a liar, a gold digger trying to cheat Ethan out of his fortune, despite everything he's given me.

"No..." I murmur, my voice barely above a whisper.