A woman storms in, soaked from the rain, wild curls clinging to her face, eyes burning with fury.
Rachel.
Behind her, my receptionist looks mortified.
“I told her, Mr. Chase, but she—”
“It’s fine, Lucy,” I cut in, forcing calm. “Thank you.”
The room falls silent.
“We need to talk,” Rachel says, her voice tight, low — a storm ready to break.
“Rachel, why don’t we—” I gesture towards the door but she shuts me down instantly.
“No. I’m not going anywhere. We’re talking here.”
Every pair of eyes in the room bounces between us. Natalie is the first to move. “Let’s wrap up there,” she says quickly, gathering her notes. The rest follow, eager to escape — and gossip.
They file out, whispering.
“Oh my god, who is she?”
“She looks like she’s going to kill him.”
And then it’s just me and Rachel.
The door clicks shut. The rain outside beats against the glass.
And I can feel it again — that same pull in my chest, the one I felt standing in the rain on that road two nights ago — the moment I realised I’d lost everything.
Forty Six
Henry
“How could you?” Rachel says, barely above a whisper. The hurt in her voice is like a shard of glass straight into my heart.
“Rachel, I—” I falter, because I don’t know what to say or how to say it.
“You left her.” She says it more sternly this time.
“I know.” My voice cracks.
“You left her!” she shouts now, the words hitting me like a punch to the gut. “You left her in that ambulance, alone and unconscious! She woke up alone in that fucking hospital with no one by her side. They had to track us down because no one was there to tell the doctors she had a family!” Her face is raw with rage, and my heart is cracking—splintering, shattering within my chest.
“I—” Words fail me again as my throat closes up, vision blurring. My breath quickens, shallow and ragged.
“You told her you loved her! You told her you wanted something with her, and then the moment she needed you, where were you?” Rachel’s voice is relentless, cutting through me. “She trusted you. She told you she fucking loved you, you worthless piece of shit. You didn’t even call to see if she was alive, to ask how bad her injuries were. You just forgot about her.”
“I never forgot about her,” I finally manage to croak out. “I called the hospital. They told me the basics.” My voice doesn’t sound like my own—just a hoarse whisper, the sound of a broken man.
“Oh, how good of you.” Her words drip pure venom.
“How is she?” I ask, though my voice barely carries.
“How is she?” Rachel spits the words back at me like poison. “She’s fucking heartbroken. She’s confused. She’s angry. And that’s not even counting the broken arm, the three fractured ribs, and the cuts to her face.”
Broken arm.
