CHAPTER 48OwenAurelia
Owen
It wasn’t long before a nurse came looking for Owen.
“She’s awake,” the nurse said quietly. “And she’s asking for you.”
Owen shot to his feet, his heart pounding as he followed the nurse down a long, sterile corridor. They stopped outside a curtained-off space, with the temporary walls meant to give the illusion of privacy in a place where nothing felt safe.
Inside, Aurelia lay motionless in the hospital bed, the backrest slightly elevated. She wore a thin patient gown, a blanket drawn over her like a fragile shield against the world.
Pain clung to her, visible in every shallow breath and every tiny wince, but her pain went beyond body aches.
It was something much more profound.
When she finally noticed him standing there, his carefully guarded expression collapsed under the strain of seeing her like this. But it wasn’t the bruises or the IV line that crushed him.
It was her eyes.
They were empty and devoid of life. The light he had always seen in her, no matter how dim the day was, now extinguished.
“Hey, bestie,” Owen said softly, his voice catching despite the teasing nickname.
At the sound of it, her eyes shuttered further. He watched helplessly as she pulled away behind invisible walls, brick by agonizing brick. A piece of him broke watching those walls go up.
In a matter of weeks, she had become family to him, like the little sister he had always wanted but never had. And now she was slipping away.
“Please…don’t shut me out,” he whispered, his voice raw. His arms hung limply at his sides, unconsciously clenching and unclenching his fists.
Her face crumpled. “I would never shut you out,” she rasped, the words barely audible before the unstoppable silent tears broke free. They slid down her cheeks as she gasped for air between sobs, each breath a fresh wound, her ribs protesting with every shudder.
“You stayed,” she choked out. “When everything fell apart, you were there.” Her voice fractured as she struggled to keep up with her breath. “Thank you…for staying.”
Owen swallowed hard, his throat thick. “There are always three sides to a story,” he said gently. “And I’ve gotten to know you. You could never do what he thinks you did. You don’t have to say a word—I see it. Anyone would. Even I can tell how much you love him.”
Her broken laugh sounded more like a sob. “ Loved him,” she whispered bitterly. “I loved a man who made promises he never intended to keep. Who didn’t even stop to listen before leaving—leaving me alone with him .” Her voice broke entirely. “That monster …”
She collapsed into sobs, each one wracking her chest so violently it made her fractured ribs scream in protest, the bed rattling beneath her. Owen felt powerless, unsure how to help her.
“I don’t want him here!” she cried, her voice rising in undiluted agony. “I don’t want to see him. I don’t want to hear his voice. I want him out of my life—I want his things gone ! I can’t…I can’t …” Her words dissolved into gut-wrenching howls, each one a dagger to Owen’s heart.
Without hesitation, Owen pulled the chair as close as it would go and took her trembling hand in his, holding on through every painful breath, every ragged sob, until the storm quieted into faint, exhausted whimpers.
Time passed in silence, broken only by the distant beeping of monitors and an unnatural chill that settled over him.
The facility itself seemed to thrum with detachment, its coldness deepening the weight of an already somber moment.
He thought she had drifted off to sleep when she stirred again, her hands trembling as she slid her wedding band and engagement ring from her finger.
She held them out to him, her palm open, her voice barely a whisper.
“I want a divorce.”
Aurelia
Aurelia was finally moved to a private room. It was an unspoken acknowledgment that her situation had shifted from personal tragedy to an active police investigation.
The hotel room became an active crime scene. Statements were required from both her and Owen.
At her quiet request, Owen contacted Charles, her attorney, to be present before the police arrived. Charles wasted no time arriving minutes before the on-call physician returned, this time flanked by two uniformed officers.
The news hit everyone with brutal intensity.
Kyle had been taken to the hospital in a separate ambulance.
He remained unconscious and unresponsive since the moment Aurelia struck him with the heavy, solid metal lamp.
The blow had fractured his skull. He hadn’t woken up, but the moment he did and was lucid enough, police custody would be waiting.
In the sterile light of the hospital room, surrounded by law enforcement and her attorney, the physician reviewed the test results.
The toxicology report was damning. Traces of flunitrazepam—Rohypnol—were found in her bloodstream. A drug infamous for dissolving easily into drinks, stripping away willpower, inducing drowsiness, and wiping memories. The kind of drug that made it easy for someone to lead her away without a scene.
Aurelia’s mind couldn’t process it. She stared at the floor, her hands clenched into fists beneath the thin blanket as she disassociated.
The physician continued, his voice clinical and detached as if he wasn’t tearing open fresh wounds with every word.
She had several fractured ribs and deep tissue bruising.
Miraculously, there were no major internal injuries, but six to eight weeks of recovery lay ahead.
Her left ankle was twisted, most likely from stumbling in her heels, and her right wrist was mildly sprained, a textbook injury from bracing herself in a fall.
At the mention of falling, her breath hitched, her gaze locking on a distant memory she couldn’t escape. How many times had she fallen before at Kyle’s hands? Too many to count.
It was the ribs that were the worst of it. Six to eight weeks to heal…if she rested. If she let herself recover.
Aurelia didn’t allow herself to believe in the illusion of recovery. Not anymore.
The doctor said she could go home in a few hours once the paperwork was done and the police had their interviews.
Home.
The word was foreign and out of place. Did she even know what it meant?
Beside her, Owen was strategizing how to rally the rest of their friends to help with her recovery—minus one glaring exception.
Then came the part she dreaded most. The officers began their questions, their pens poised to capture every tarnished piece of her story.
Aurelia answered numbly, her voice flat, as if these events had drained every last trace of feeling from her that not even an injury could summon a reaction.
She told them about the drinks, how she had only had soda and water. She explained Kyle’s history of violence, how their relationship had ended, and how she had spent the final hour in that hotel room waiting him out while he took a mysterious phone call with someone she couldn’t identify.
Owen stiffened so abruptly in his seat that it was almost comical. When it was his turn, Owen gave his account, explaining how he found her and what he saw when he arrived.
Aurelia shot him a sharp glare when he casually mentioned the tracker he had slipped into her phone—something she didn’t know about…or consented to.
Owen met her glare with a flat, unapologetic stare and kept talking. A complete invasion of privacy that saved her life. He was finishing up when the sound of raised voices echoed through the corridor.
Aurelia paled, her turbulent brown eyes locking onto him with a silent, desperate plea. She didn’t need to say a word; his curt nod relaying his understanding.
Owen rose immediately, his chair scraping harshly against the floor. Without hesitation, he strode for the door, a police officer falling in step behind him.
He was more than ready to handle whoever dared disturb her peace.