A week before my wedding, my fiancé paid a man to destr0y my face with ac:id so he could secretly marry another woman.
When Gabriel left the room, Christian stepped quietly over to the side of my hospital bed. He tenderly gripped my trembling hand with the exact same warmth he always used to comfort me when obsessed fans threatened me online.
“Please wake up soon, my sweet love,” Christian whispered softly against my ear. “We still have a wonderful wedding to attend together.”
In that terrifying moment, I finally understood that I had never been the great love of his life over those five long years.
I had merely been his perfect public alibi.
I kept my eyes tightly shut until I heard the heavy wooden door click close behind him.
A few minutes later, Gabriel slipped back into the room alone, gasped when he saw me staring directly at him, and turned completely pale as a sheet.
I raised a single shaking finger to my lips to keep him quiet.
“Please help me,” I whispered through my chapped lips.
“Do you want me to call the police and report him right now?” Gabriel asked nervously.
“First, you need to help me stay alive,” I replied carefully.
Gabriel glanced nervously toward the quiet hallway, realizing that Christian still truly believed he had me completely under his cruel control.
Yet, what was about to unfold was so surreal that I still struggle to fully process it today.
PART 2
Gabriel managed to secretly move me out of that hospital without alerting Christian to my sudden absence.
Officially, my medical records stated that I had been urgently transferred to a specialized burn unit to treat an unexpected severe infection. In reality, a private medical team transported me to a quiet recovery clinic in Cincinnati, where Dr. Jocelyn Pratt, a brilliant burn specialist, took over my care in the middle of the night.
When Dr. Pratt carefully reviewed my initial medical charts, her facial expression hardened with deep concern.
“Did almost nine whole hours seriously pass without any proper reconstructive evaluation for these severe facial burns?” Dr. Pratt asked angrily.
Gabriel lowered his eyes nervously before answering her question.
“There were strict orders from her fiancé’s team to keep her medical treatments to an absolute minimum,” Gabriel admitted quietly.
The doctor looked directly into my eyes with intense compassion.
“I do not care who gave those terrible orders, Genevieve, because no one dictates what happens to your body except you,” Dr. Pratt said firmly.
For the very first time since the horrific attack, I cried tears of genuine relief.
