Eight Chances, All Spent Chapter 2

"Ms. Langley, that wheelchair was brought for Dr. Pierce. You can't..."

Vanessa glanced at me as though offering charity, then snapped at the nurse.

"Can't you see who the patient is? He's a doctor. What could possibly be wrong with him? Keep interfering and I'll file a complaint accusing this hospital of discriminating between patients, refusing emergency care, and making sick people compete for equipment."

I watched her guard Damian with that fierce, desperate care.

I could no longer remember the last time she had defended me that way.

The room went rigid.

Vanessa pushed the wheelchair away by force.

Erin looked at me pleadingly, and I answered quietly, "It's fine. I'm not dead yet."

The moment my wound was dressed, Vanessa sent someone over with a thermos.

A handwritten note was clipped to the lid.

[I'm sorry, Adrian. Damian just lost a child and isn't emotionally stable. Please be patient with him. After all, I agreed to the procedure for your sake.]

[Damian isn't feeling well, so I'm staying with him. I'll come back later.]

I unscrewed the lid and found shrimp bisque.

A bitter smile touched my mouth. She had forgotten that shellfish sent me into anaphylaxis.

Years earlier, I'd eaten some by accident.

Hives swallowed my body, my throat closed, and I nearly suffocated.

Vanessa had seen me struggling and rushed me to the emergency department with tears in her eyes.

She knelt before the physician and cried like a child.

Only a few years had passed.

Everything changed after Damian returned from overseas.

I went back to our silent home and began sorting through the things we had collected over the years.

I reread the love letters Vanessa had once written, each line burning with devotion.

My heart wouldn't stop shaking.

I thought that if she came home that night and apologized sincerely, I wouldn't have to be completely ruthless.

A divorce would be enough. I could support myself.

I waited in the living room all night.

She never returned.

The next morning, I saw Damian's latest post.

The center image in a nine-photo carousel showed a brand-new luxury sports car.

The caption read: [A gift from Vanessa. She said it was compensation for ending our baby. Since her apology was so sincere, I forgive her.]

In the photograph, he and Vanessa pressed their faces together and smiled brightly.

The comments had exploded.

Several mutual friends recognized Vanessa and condemned Damian for pursuing a married woman.

An account using Vanessa's unmistakable profile photo replied beneath them.

[He isn't the third party. The person who is unloved is the real outsider. Make another defamatory comment and I will involve counsel and law enforcement.]

She had stayed away all night.

That final post extinguished the last warmth remaining inside me.

I calmly finished my resignation letter and left for Ridgewater University Hospital.

At the hospital entrance, Vanessa approached with her face flushed.

She didn't even notice the bandage around my head before demanding, "Did you arrange yesterday's viral post? Because of you, everyone is attacking Damian. I want you to apologize to him immediately."

She thrust a feed full of hostile comments into my face.

I looked at her and found the entire accusation absurd.

Damian himself had reposted his boast publicly to attract attention.

Now that the public had turned on him, the blame somehow belonged to me.

A colleague once defended me, and Vanessa came to the hospital every day to create scenes.

She publicly abused him and spread sexual rumors so viciously that his marriage nearly collapsed.

After that, no one dared speak for me.

Who would risk becoming her next target?

A mocking smile touched my mouth.

"You should ask Damian. Who else has access to his account?"

Something clicked behind her eyes, and she froze.

She walked several steps away, then hurried after me.

"Are you still angry because I didn't come home last night?"

I didn't answer.

Her voice slid into the soft register she always used when she wanted to be forgiven.

"I stayed away because I was afraid of waking you. You work so hard. If I came home late, you wouldn't sleep well, and I couldn't bear that."

The first time she said those words, I had been deeply moved.

Then I found out what those nights she supposedly spent away to protect my sleep really were.

She was sitting beside Damian's mother in the hospital because she couldn't bear to let Damian wear himself out.

She took on every unpleasant task herself, night after night, so he wouldn't have to.

After that, the excuse was just an insult.

Only after a long silence did Vanessa notice the bandage near my temple.

Her gaze flickered, and she seemed ready to speak.

Then her phone rang sharply inside her pocket.

She looked at the screen, and her expression changed.

"Damian? Don't panic. I'm coming."

She didn't finish a single sentence to me.

She gripped the phone and hurried away.

For one foolish moment, I had believed she might finally trust me.

Less than an hour later, Damian posted again.

[Thank you, Vanessa, for the villa. She told me not to argue with small-minded people, so I'll behave.]

I opened his profile, deleted him, blocked the account, and felt nothing.