Chapter 50 He Chose Her
Elena: POV
"You're twisting the facts." Julian's voice was ice, cutting through the sterile hospital air. "Victoria already told me what happened. She saved my mother. Not you."
I looked past his shoulder at Victoria, who stood near the nurses' station. Her lips curved into the smallest smile before her expression shifted back to concern.
"Julian," I said carefully, forcing my voice to stay level. "Please. Just calm down for a second and listen—"
"Calm down?" His laugh was harsh. "My mother is in the ICU because of you, and you want me to calm down?"
My chest tightened. "I indeed need to take some responsibility for what happened. I do. Your mother... she was being difficult. I tried to be polite, tried to be gentle with her, but she kept pushing. She slapped me, Julian. Right across the face. And yes, I snapped back verbally. I shouldn't have said what I said, but I did."
His jaw clenched, but he said nothing.
There—I can see it. That flicker of uncertainty in his eyes, the way his shoulders tense like he's fighting something inside himself. He wants to believe me. Part of him does. But then his gaze shifts to Victoria, and I watch that doubt harden back into certainty.
"And then she collapsed," I continued, my voice shaking now. "And I did everything I could to save her. I performed CPR. I kept her heart beating until the paramedics arrived. I swear to God, Julian, I tried—"
"You don't even like my mother." His words were cold, final. "Why the hell would you save her? Would you really save her?"
The accusation hit me like a physical blow.
"Because she's your mother," I whispered. "That's all that matters."
For a moment, something flickered in his eyes. Doubt, maybe. Or confusion.
Then Victoria was there, her hand on his arm. "Julian, maybe we should let the doctors update us first? Before we jump to conclusions?"
Her voice was so fucking reasonable. So calm and collected.
Like she wasn't the one who created this entire mess.
Julian's eyes never left my face. And in them, I saw it—the suspicion. The doubt. The judgment.
He's made his choice. Whatever internal war he was fighting, Victoria's touch just ended it. In her favor.
He didn't believe me. Not even a little bit.
I reached for his hand, desperate. "Julian, please—"
He yanked away so hard I stumbled. "You're making this very difficult for me, Elena." His voice was strained. "Why couldn't you just... why couldn't you have held it together? Just tolerated her for one afternoon?"
"Tolerated being slapped?" My voice rose. "Tolerated being called trash? Being told I'm a mistake? How much am I supposed to tolerate, Julian?"
"Enough to not give my mother a fucking heart attack!"
The words echoed in the corridor. A few nurses turned to stare.
Julian ran a hand through his hair, his chest heaving. "I don't want to see you right now. I can't even look at you."
There it is. The truth.
"Fine," I said quietly. "But Julian, I can prove this. The paramedics—the ones in the ambulance. They saw me doing CPR. They can tell you—"
"Go find them then." His voice was flat. Dead. "Go find your proof."
He turned away from me, heading toward Evelyn's room.
I stood there, frozen, watching him walk away like I was nothing. Like three years of marriage meant nothing.
Victoria followed him, but not before shooting me one last triumphant look.
I've already lost. Before I even started defending myself, I'd already lost.
---
I found a nurse at the station. "The paramedics who brought in Evelyn Sterling—are they still here?"
She glanced at her computer. "They left twenty minutes ago. Different call."
"Can you... can you contact them? I need them to confirm something—"
"Miss, I can't just call paramedics for a patient's family dispute." Her tone was kind but firm. "If you need a statement, you'll have to go through proper channels."
Proper channels. Right. Because bureaucracy is what matters when my marriage is being destroyed by lies.
"Thank you," I managed.
I walked back to the corridor. Sat in one of those uncomfortable plastic chairs. Stared at Evelyn's closed door.
Julian was in there. With Victoria. His mother would wake up soon. And she'd tell her version of events.
And I'll be the villain. Again.
The minutes crawled past like hours.
Finally, the door opened. Julian emerged, his face unreadable.
I stood. "How is she?"
"Stable." His voice was clipped. "Awake. Asking questions."
"Did she... did she say what happened?"
His eyes met mine, and I saw it—that cold, final judgment.
"She said you were screaming at her. That you got in her face. That the stress caused her heart to give out."
My world tilted. "That's not—"
"Victoria corroborated everything." Julian's jaw tightened. "My mother had no reason to lie, Elena. And neither does Victoria."
"But I do?" My voice cracked. "Is that what you think? That I'm just making all this up?"
"I know you don't like my mother. I know you resent her. So I believe after she collapsed, you not helping her—isn't that exactly what anyone would expect?"
The logic was so twisted, so backwards, I almost laughed.
"You really believe that," I said softly. "You actually believe I'm capable of that."
"I don't know what to believe anymore." He rubbed his face. "All I know is my mother is in a hospital bed, and you two were the only ones there."
I tried to reach for his hand again. He stepped back.
"Don't," he said. "Just... don't touch me right now. You're making this impossible."
I'm making it impossible? Me?
"I already know," I said quietly, "that no matter what I say, you won't believe me. You've already made up your mind."
Silence.
"Julian." My voice was hollow now. "Sometimes I wonder... what's even the point of our marriage? Oh, right. There never was a point. It was just an accident. An accident you think I caused. You've always thought this marriage was an insult to you."
His eyes widened slightly.
"So let's just end it," I continued. "After your grandfather's birthday party. Let's go get divorced. A clean break. We can both move on."
Something snapped in his expression. His eyes went red with rage.
Before I could react, he grabbed my shoulders and slammed me against the wall.
"Is that what this is?" he growled, his face inches from mine. "I've been too nice to you lately? That's why you keep throwing divorce in my face? You forget who the fuck you are?"
"What identity?" I shot back, my voice breaking. "A girl from the bottom trying to get a rich guy's attention? Yeah, I overestimated myself. I get it."
"You—"
"After Grandpa's birthday party," I said firmly. "We'll end this ridiculous marriage. Once and for all."
His hand shot up, gripping my jaw hard enough to hurt. "You serious? You think I'm scared? Fine. Let's get divorced. You really think I can't live without you?"
The words were like bullets, each one hitting its mark.
"Get out," he said coldly. "Get the fuck out of my sight."
---
I walked.
Out of the hospital. Down the street. Past buildings and people and cars that all blurred together.
My hand pressed against my chest, right over my heart.
It hurts. God, it hurts so much. When will it stop hurting?
Then my hand dropped to my stomach. The baby. Our baby that he'd never want.
"Baby," I whispered. Tears streamed down my face. "I tried. I tried so hard to make your dad love me. But I couldn't do it. I just... I couldn't."
People passing by probably thought I was crazy. Talking to myself. Crying on a street corner.
I didn't care.
"When you're born," I continued, my voice thick, "I'll give you all the love in the world. We don't need him. We'll be okay. Just you and me, baby. Just you and me."