Chapter 229: The Truth Behind the "Accident"
Chapter 229: The Truth Behind the "Accident"
Zachary's phone buzzed again. This time, the screen displayed an unfamiliar number with a hospital exchange.
He answered, his expression grew darker with each word. "What? When did this happen?"
Sophia watched his face drain of color. She told herself she didn't care. That she shouldn't care.
"I'll be right there." He ended the call and turned to her, conflict was written all over his face. "Paula's in the hospital. Critical condition. They said—"
"Go." Sophia's voice was flat. Empty.
"Sophia—"
"I said go." She met his eyes with cold finality. "Isn't that what you always do?"
He hesitated. He looked toward the bedroom where the children were sleeping, then back at her. The weight of all his choices hung between them.
"We'll talk when I get back."
Sophia said nothing. She simply turned away, and stared out at the rain-lashed windows.
The door clicked shut behind him.
---
She stood there for a long time, listening to the storm. Feeling nothing. The numbness was almost a relief.
"Mommy?"
Julia's small voice broke through her haze. Both children were standing in the hallway, sleepy-eyed and rumpled.
"You should be in bed, sweetheart."
"We heard voices." Simon's expression was far too knowing for a child his age. "He left again, didn't he?"
Sophia's throat constricted. "He had to—"
"He went to see that bad woman." Julia's voice trembled with anger and hurt. "Didn't he?"
"Julia—"
"It's okay, Mommy." Simon took his sister's hand. "We don't need him anyway. We have you."
The fierce protectiveness in his young voice nearly broke her.
"Come here." She pulled them close, breathing in the familiar warmth of them. "Let's get you back to bed."
But as she tucked them in again, Julia whispered, "Is he ever going to choose us? Really choose us?"
Sophia had no answer. She simply kissed their foreheads and stayed until they fell asleep.
---
St. Mary's Hospital, Emergency Wing
Zachary burst through the emergency room doors, his mind racing. Paula's phone call. The crash. Now this.
"Family of Paula?" A harried nurse called out.
"I'm—" He stopped. What was he, exactly? "She called me. Is she—"
"Room 304. Dr. Harrison will brief you."
He took the stairs two at a time, dread coiling in his gut. But when he reached her room, what he found wasn't what he expected.
Paula lay in the hospital bed, IV attached, monitors beeping steadily. Her face was artfully pale, a bandage wrapped around her forehead. But her vitals were strong. Stable.
Too stable for someone who'd supposedly been in a critical accident.
Dr. Harrison was reviewing charts near the door.
"How is she?"
"Fortunate, actually. Minor concussion, some bruising. We're keeping her overnight for observation, but there's no serious injury."
Zachary's eyes narrowed. "The call I received said critical condition."
The doctor frowned. "There must have been a miscommunication. Perhaps the caller panicked. The patient requested we contact you urgently—"
"I want to see the accident report. And security footage from the parking garage."
"I'm sorry?"
"Now!"
---
Twenty minutes later, Zachary sat in the security office, watching the footage replay for the third time.
Paula's car approached the garage pillar at moderate speed. No other vehicles nearby. No obstacles.
She didn't brake.
She didn't swerve.
She drove straight into the concrete support—deliberately, carefully—at just enough speed to deploy the airbag without causing real damage.
Then she got out, smeared her own makeup, and called the front desk screaming for help.
He walked back to Paula's room slowly, his mind reeling.
How many times? How many 'emergencies'over the years?
The late-night calls. The convenient crises that always happened when he was with Sophia or the kids. The timing was never coincidental.
He had thought he was helping a friend in need.
he had been played.
---
Paula sensed him before she saw him. She arranged her face into an expression of fragile relief and let her eyes flutter open.
"Zachary..." Her voice was barely a whisper. "You came."
"I saw the footage."
Her eyes went wide. Just for a second. Then she recovered, tears welled up. "What footage? I don't—the crash happened so fast—"
"Stop!"
The single word cut through her performance like a blade.
He moved closer, his expression unreadable. "I watched you drive into that pillar, Paula. I watched you stage the whole thing."
Silence.
Then slowly, her mask began to crack. The tears dried up. Her expression shifted from fragile victim to something harder. Uglier.
"So what if I did?" Her voice lost its tremulous quality. "You wouldn't have come otherwise."
"How long?" His voice was dangerously quiet. "How many of your 'emergencies' were real?"
"Does it matter?" She sat up straighter, all pretense of injury gone. "They got your attention, didn't they? They made you remember I exist."
"Jesus Christ." He dragged a hand through his hair. "Do you have any idea what you've done?"