Chapter 2 - The Manager’s Turn**
The heavy oak door clicked shut as Christian stepped out into the hospital corridor to speak with the attending physician about my staged prognosis. The sudden silence in Room 412 felt heavy, thick with unspoken vengeance.
Footsteps approached the bed again. I expected Christian to have forgotten his phone or his wallet. Instead, a heavy, ragged sigh echoed through the room.
“Genevieve,” Gabriel whispered.
I didn't move. I kept my eyes closed beneath the gauze, maintaining the facade of unconsciousness.
“I know you’re awake,” Gabriel said, his voice cracking with a mix of exhaustion and deep-seated panic. “I saw your heart rate spike on the monitor when he talked about the boy... and about what he did with the doctor.”
Slowly, deliberately, I peeled back the edge of the gauze covering my left eye. The cool hospital air hit my skin, and I fixed my gaze entirely on Gabriel. He looked paler than a ghost, his tailored suit rumpled, his hands shaking as he clutched a leather briefcase.
“Gabriel,” I rasped, my throat raw and dry as sandpaper.
He flinched, stepping back before rushing to the bedside and dropping into the leather chair. “Genevieve, I swear to God, I didn’t know about the acid. He told me he was hiring private security to intercept you so you’d miss the dress fitting. When the guy showed up at the office with chemical burns on his own hands bragging about the job, I... I realized what Christian had done. He’s a psychopath.”
I raised one trembling finger to my lips, signaling for absolute silence. I glanced toward the closed door, listening for the heavy tread of Christian’s designer loafers.
“Help me,” I whispered, the words tasting like ash and iron.
Gabriel swallowed hard, his eyes wide with fear. “To report him? To call the police right now?”
I slowly shook my head on the pillow, a chilling, deliberate movement.
“First, help me stay alive,” I said, my voice dropping an octave into a tone that made Gabriel physically shudder. “Because if we call the cops right now, Christian’s lawyers will tie this up in court, pay off Dr. Lawson, and paint me as a deranged, disfigured ex-fiancée having a psychotic break. He has millions in backup, a crooked legal team, and an army of publicists.”
Gabriel stared at me, the cogs turning in his frantic mind as he realized the terrifying scope of what I was proposing. “What do you want to do?”
“Everything he built was built on lies, Gabriel,” I said, my voice as cold as the stainless steel surgical trays in the corner. “He wants an alibi? I’ll give him one. He wants a disfigured, dependent wife hidden away in a mansion? I’ll play the part to perfection. But while he’s standing at the altar next week smiling for the global press, I want you to empty every offshore account, download every incriminating recording from his home server, and hand me the keys to his entire empire.”
Gabriel stared at me for a long, silent minute. He looked at the door, then back at my bandaged face. The fear in his eyes slowly transformed into something else—a grim, calculated realization that Christian’s reign was over, and it was safer to stand with the monster in the bed than the pop star in the hallway.
“His personal laptop is locked with a master code,” Gabriel whispered, leaning in close. “And his primary offshore accounts are held in the Cayman Islands under a shell corporation called Aegis Holdings. I have the master admin credentials.”
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“Bring me the hard drives by midnight,” I commanded, closing my eye just as the doorknob began to turn.
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