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Amelia was not his first victim nor was she the only botched procedure. Two of his former patients had died on the table. Another had succumbed to an infection she was too scared to have treated several days after she tried to abort the child of her rapist without her religious family finding out.
The clinic where he’d operated on Amelia was rented out for such things by the office manager and one of the nurses who used it to make extra cash. Both were sitting in jail.
The only person out on their own recognizance was Augusta Whitehall. Her dear mother…
Leo went downstairs to get them ice cream and Amelia made her way to the window looking out on the rear of the hospital. Beyond the parking lot was nothing but forest.
Her body hurt but it was nothing compared to her soul.
The love Leo had for Amelia made it impossible for him to blame her, to shame her, for how weak she’d always been in the face of her mother’s demands. It blinded him to the fact that the heir he needed - that the royal line from which he was descended needed - could never be of his blood.
Not with Amelia.
Never from her body.
Tears slipped over her face and off her jaw as she processed the fact that she would never experience the joy of pregnancy, of bringing a child conceived from pure, perfect love into the world, of seeing Leo’s face as he held their child for the first time.
All of that was closed to her now.
One of the nurses left her a pamphlet about surrogacy in her room but it was hard to think about such a thing with the boiling rage that moved through Amelia’s veins.
Walking carefully to one of tables holding several flower arrangements, she removed the card from her fellow cheerleaders.
Get well soon, Amy! We love you!
A-W-E-S-O-M-E! You’re awesome, awesome...totally!
The bitter laugh that left her body felt foreign but Amelia imagined there would be many things about her new life that would feel wrong.
Killed her child.
A child she would have adored with all of herself.
Stole her chance to ever have another.
Gripping the metal card holder in her hand, she raked the strangely jagged edge over the skin of her inner wrist. Blood welled and it fascinated her. She raked it across her flesh a second time and blood flowed faster.
She couldn’t feel it.
She felt nothing.
Pressing harder, hoping to feel something other than grief, pain, fury, she swayed on her feet as a puddle of her blood formed on the linoleum floor.
“Amelia!” Something hit the floor behind her and then Leo had her in his arms. He screamed, “Nurse! I need help!”
Amelia stared into his eyes as she lost consciousness. “Just let me go…”
When she opened her eyes hours later, it was dark and Leo sat beside the bed. He held her hand with a heavy bandage over the wrist.
“I won’t let you go. I know you’re hurting but we can get through this together. You’re strong and we love each other, Amelia. Don’t give up. Please don’t give up. We have so much worth fighting for.”
* * *
Nine days after being admitted, Amelia was healed enough physically to be discharged. She was given pain medication, antibiotics, and antidepressants.
Leo’s parents sat up front as Leo sat with Amelia in the back. They took her to their house and showed her to a gorgeous suite with its own bathroom. It was on the third floor, directly across the hall from Leo’s bedroom.
For two weeks, Amelia didn’t speak, barely ate, and slept eighteen hours a day. After three weeks, she requested and received a laptop.
