Chapter 5
Kimberly fought through layers of fog to open her eyes. The harsh fluorescent lights of a hospital room greeted her, along with the steady beep of monitors tracking her vital signs. Jayden sat at her bedside, his attention fixed on his laptop. Something—some sixth sense—made him look up, his eyes meeting hers. For a millisecond, relief crossed his face before vanishing beneath a mask of cold indifference.
“Feels like shit, doesn’t it?” His voice was glacial. “Getting what you deserve for once?” He snapped his laptop shut. “Take this as a lesson. Touch Agatha again, and next time you won’t wake up.”
Kimberly turned away, unable to bear the hatred in his eyes. A tear slid down her cheek before she could stop it, trailing across the bridge of her nose onto the scratchy hospital pillow. Once, this man had been her entire world—her protector, her safe harbor. Now she saw him clearly: just another predator, more calculating and patient than the rest.
Jayden watched her silent retreat, an unexpected tightness forming in his chest. This was justice—she’d tried to hurt Agatha. She deserved every second of suffering. So why did that single tear feel like an accusation?
A nurse in blue scrubs knocked and entered. “Mr. Charlemet? We’ve got an issue with Ms. Jordan’s room temperature—the heating’s gone out…”
Jayden’s expression darkened. “Then fix it. Why are you wasting my time with this?”
“Maintenance won’t be available for at least an hour. Ms. Jordan keeps complaining about being cold, and we don’t have any vacant rooms—”
Jayden shot to his feet. “What kind of third-rate operation are you running here?” His voice cut like a switchblade. “Agatha has a compromised immune system. She can’t handle cold temperatures. Move Kimberly to that room. Immediately.”
“Sir, I—” The nurse glanced nervously at Kimberly’s monitors and IV drips. “Ms. Kimberly Jordan is in critical condition. The capsaicin caused severe anaphylaxis that damaged her esophagus and stomach lining. Any additional stress could—”
“Did I fucking stutter?” Jayden’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “If Agatha catches so much as a cold, I’ll have this entire hospital shut down by morning.”
The nurse swallowed hard. There was no arguing with that kind of power.
Twenty minutes later, Kimberly was wheeled into Agatha’s former room, still hooked to IVs of antihistamines and pain medication. Jayden disappeared with Agatha, leaving Kimberly completely alone. The weight of everything—the betrayal, the humiliation, the physical pain—came crashing down. Silent sobs racked her body, each one sending waves of agony through her damaged throat.
Mid-breakdown, a blast of arctic air hit her like a slap. She looked up to see the air conditioning unit running at maximum power, sending freezing air directly toward her bed. The realization hit her like a gut punch. There was never any heating malfunction. Agatha had orchestrated this final torture, ensuring Kimberly would freeze while she relaxed in comfort.
As the temperature plummeted, cold invaded Kimberly’s body like a virus. Her teeth chattered violently, her fingers and toes going numb beneath the pathetically thin hospital blanket. She tried to call for help, but her ravaged throat produced only a painful, rasping whisper. She stretched her trembling arm toward the call button, but weakness overcame her. Her hand dropped uselessly back to the mattress. Complete hopelessness washed over her as she curled into herself, a human question mark beneath sheets that offered no warmth or comfort.
Hours passed. The room grew colder. Kimberly’s lips turned blue. When the door finally opened, Kimberly forced her frozen eyelids apart—only to find Agatha standing over her, satisfaction written across her perfect features.
“Jesus, you look pathetic,” Agatha said, her voice dripping with disgust. “Like some mangy stray someone should just put down already.”
She perched on the edge of the bed, her weight pressing painfully against Kimberly’s legs. “Jayden’s really outdone himself this time. Those pictures of you all bloody and half-naked? Everybody at school’s seen them. The football team’s using them as locker room porn.” Her smile was vicious. “A producer from Bang Bros actually called me earlier. Said they’re looking for someone with your ‘authentic victim look’ for their abuse-themed videos. Told him I’d pass along the message.” She threw her head back and laughed.
When her laughter subsided, she suddenly grabbed Kimberly’s bandaged arm, digging her manicured nails deep into the raw, damaged flesh. Fresh blood bloomed through the white gauze as Kimberly’s vision swam with pain.
“So now you fucking get it, right?” Agatha hissed, leaning close enough for Kimberly to smell her expensive perfume. “He’s mine. He’s always been mine. If your brain can still process basic information, do yourself a favor—admit your whore mother was nothing but a cheap side piece, then disappear from my life forever.” She released Kimberly’s arm with a shove. “I can’t even look at your pathetic face without wanting to vomit. You’re nothing but a reminder of how your slut mother almost ruined everything.”
Something vital died inside Kimberly at that moment—the last ember of hope extinguished under the cruelty of someone who should have been family. Disappear? Yes. That was exactly what she would do. In a week, she’d be on a plane to another country, leaving everything behind. Including her name.