Chapter 14

Matthew sighed and shut the laptop down. He put it aside and pinched the bridge of his nose. Outside the window, the sun was rising over a beautiful Saturday morning. In a few hours, the roads would be chock full of people heading from one destination to the other.

The fact that it was a Saturday meant nothing. People, especially the students and the workers who were busy throughout the week, would all leave their homes for their recreation.

There was no recreation to be had for him, however. He had work to do. And not the legal, official work that came with being a CEO. No, this was of a more personal variety.

The work of revenge. He was going to make Samuel Karly pay a very bloody price. Systemically, painstakingly, and thoroughly. He was going to ruin his life. Take everything from him until there was nothing left.

Matthew placed his hand on the still-warm laptop he had just closed. If he was asked to choose the most important thing that money brought him, he would not pick fame, influence, or even power.

He would choose information. Information was the most important thing that money could buy, and he had been buying a lot of it.

Matthew's first interaction with Samuel Karly was at a fundraising dinner for a climate change NGO. He had simply categorized the man as a cunning but skillful businessman who had trumped all his competitors to stand at the top of his field.

Now, after perusing the information he had acquired about Karly that did not seem to be the case. Blackmail, kidnap, murder. Karly had done them all and then some. He was a cruel beast who brandished his claws at anyone who stood in his way.

The police cannot do anything to me.

That was what Karly had said several nights ago. He was very right. The police not only covered up his crimes but were also complicit in many of them. They could not accuse Karly without revealing their involvement in the crimes. Hence, his lack of prosecution.

Matthew needed insurmountable evidence on his crimes and that of the police officers who aided him to make Karly accountable for his crimes. And to give Miranda the justice she deserved.

Speaking of Miranda, he had to head back to the hospital. He stood, stretched and as he showered, ate, and dressed, he contemplated her housing condition. It was clear, with the attempted kidnap yesterday, that Karly knew her location.

It was not a matter of increasing security; it was a matter of relocation. She had to move to a safer place. Matthew looked out the window to the large patio in front of the house. Yes, she had to move. To a safer place like the one he currently inhabited.

He was still staring at the window when the thought struck him.

***

When Matthew entered Miranda's hospital room, she was sitting up, a tray of food in front of her. she looked up as he entered the room and he noticed she was no longer in her normal clothes. She had changed into the typical hospital garb. White.

He walked up to the bed and placed the flowers he brought on the small table beside it.

"Good morning."

"Good morning, Mr. Devin." Her voice was low, almost a whisper. She kept her eyes down, not meeting his.

"How was your night?"

"It was fine, thank you."

Matthew dragged one of the chairs at the table to the side of her bed and sat, hands on his knees. He was reluctant to talk to her, not wanting to say something that would offend her or injure her. He did not want to bring up the attack if she was not ready to talk about it.

As he debated with himself how to go about it, tears rolled down Miranda's face hitting the edge of the plastic tray. He shot up; his expression anguished.

"Are you in pain? Does anything hurt? Are you okay?" he asked, panicking. She shook her head, still crying. When it became clear that her tears were not from physical pain, he fell silent. After a few moments, he spoke in a dejected voice. "Miranda, don't cry. Please. Stop crying. I don't…I don't know what to do when you cry. Please stop."

The tears continued, turning to wracking sobs that shook her frame. And he stood helplessly to the side, wanting nothing more than to embrace her yet utterly unable to.

"I'm so-sorry. P-please for-forgive me. I… I'm very sorry."

He shook his head and repeated what he said the night before. "You have nothing to be sorry about. Don't apologize."

Miranda sniffed and wiped the tears off her face. "I k-keep giving you trouble and making you…go out of your way. I'm very sorry."

Matthew stared at Miranda, his heart-wrenching. How could he make her understand? Understand that everything he did for her, he did freely and without grudge. How could he make her see how special she was becoming to him?

He was certain if he tried to express his emotions in words, he would fail drastically. Expressing himself was not one of his strong points, much less to a woman. He swallowed his emotions and decided to bring up the issue of housing. "Miranda, you have to move houses. I think you are aware of that."

For the first time since he entered the room, she looked at him. Her eyes held an animosity of some sorts, an accusation.

"Yes, Mr. Devin. I am aware. Do you want to buy me another house?"

His words got stuck in his throat. He could not reply before she wiped at her face with the hand not encumbered by the IV.

"I am useless without you. I can't do anything. I can't work. I can't live. I can't do anything without you. I got attacked. I got injured, and now, I can't go to work. I must get a new house, but I don't know if I can afford a safer place. I can't do anything without you. I'm useless. Do you want to hold me in your debt forever? I can't pay you back."

Miranda clenched the tray, shaking with the force of her self-directed loathing. "I-I can't pay you back. You've done so much for me, but I can't pay you back. Please don't do anymore."

Matthew slowly sat back on the chair. He stapled his hands together and considered the words she said to him. Pay him back. Hold in debt. Those very peculiar words.

Those words scoured him, slashing away at his soul. Deep in his heart, there still existed a seed of mistrust when it came to Miranda and that had nothing to do with her as a person. It, however, had everything to do with her as a woman.

Rescuing her from Karly, helping her retrieve her documents, providing a job for her as a part of his company, and even finding suitable accommodations for her to live in. Everything he had done for her, he had done it with a dash of wariness in his heart.

Whenever he talked to her, whenever they met or dined together, he had his guard up, lest she betrays him. What he never considered was that she would have her own concerns, her own reasons for being on guard.

Her own reasons for not trusting him.

Matthew chuckled, a self-deprecating laugh. How arrogant and stupid of him.

Miranda raised her head at his laughter, looking at him inquiringly.

"Do not pay me attention, Miranda. Eat your breakfast." He looked down at the tray she held. "Is that what the hospital served you?" Matthew said, gesturing to the bowl filled with mashed beans, disapproval clear on his face.

Miranda nodded. "It's okay for me. My jaw hurts a little, so I didn't want anything hard to chew."

"Sorry about that."

"Thank you." She took a spoon of the mash and ate it. "I'm sorry that I couldn't make it to the dinner last night. Please forgive me."

"Don't apologize, Miranda. Nothing that happened yesterday was your fault." He paused briefly, examining her. "Do you…want to talk about what happened yesterday?"

He watched as her shoulders curled in as if she was bracing for a blow and immediately regretted his question. "It's fine if you do not want to share. It was insensitive of me to ask so soon."

"I…I can talk about it. It's fine. It's better if I talk about it," she said, her voice breaking.

He waited patiently, watching how she gathered her confidence with every breath she took.

"I was walking down the street," she started in a small voice.

Matthew swallowed, no longer certain he wanted to hear this. In fact, he was the last person who should be urging people to speak up about their trauma, when he kept his wrapped up so tightly, deep within him.

But he did not interrupt her.

"I had seen the car from the house. it was a black car with black windows. I could not see anything or anyone inside it. I even thought you had sent the car. It reminded me of yours. I didn't think too much of it after that. I simply left the house and walked down the street. It was when I turned into a…kind of like an alley. Between houses. I was trying to get to the main street faster."

At this point, Miranda's voice thinned, becoming very light and full of fear.

Matthew berated himself for his stupidity. It was obvious from the wounds that this was a very traumatic experience for the woman. Now, he was making her relive it so soon.

"Miranda, it's okay. you don't have to do this."

"No. I want to do it. I want to talk."

He nodded and she continued.

"I turned into the street. That's when I felt scared. I just…felt uneasy. I thought I was overreacting and tried to shake the feeling off, but I couldn't. I was trying to make an excuse to escape when…he hit me."

Matthew's jaw clenched and his hands tightened into fists. The anger he thought he had conquered came gushing out like water from a broken dam. Calm down, calm down, you'll scare her, he swore silently.

"The wall was rough. I hit my head and the left side of my body. I was…it was painful. I was dizzy. He picked me up and took me to the car. He said…," she gasped, clutching her chest, " 'Karly would be pleased.' "

Yes, Matthew thought, he was going to kill Karly. That was the only way forward. He would kill him. Matthew's mind filled and overflowed with violence and the desire to kill and would have remained like that if the sounds of Miranda calling him did not pierce his distracted mind.

"Mr. Devin. You…the bed…"

He jolted out of his bloodlust and stared at his hands. He had grabbed the bed, fisting his hands around the sheets. "Sorry," he said, releasing them instantly.

"Thank you."

"So…what happened after that?"

Miranda shrugged. "I kind of snapped. I struggled and broke free. Then I ran to the bottle and picked it up."

"Bottle?" Matthew interjected. "What bottle?"

"A bottle of wine. I was bringing it to the dinner. As a gift for your family. It broke when he struck me earlier."

"Thank you," Matthew said gently. "They would have loved it."

Their conversation was interrupted by a knock. The door opened slightly, and an individual dressed in the hospital uniform appeared.

"Good morning. Are you finished with your morning meal?"

"Oh," Miranda started, "I'm not. I'm sorry about that." She picked up the spoon and began shoving the food down at an alarming rate.

Matthew and the staffer reacted at the same time.

"Miranda, slow down."

"I can return for the dishes. Please take your time."

The assurance seemed to calm Miranda and she returned to eating at an acceptable pace. Matthew watched her eat in silence, the issue of housing coming up in his mind once more.

He frowned, thinking of the best way to bring up the issue. After thinking up nothing useful, he decided to be as straight forward as possible.

"Miranda, would you like to stay with me?"