Limited Edition Love Can’t Be Repaired Chapter 1

Victoria was picking up my car when the accident happened. A fractured tibia and a couple of broken ribs.

By the time I reached the hospital, a young man with eyes swollen red from crying was already there, barking at me with a startling lack of restraint.

"How could you let Victoria pick up your car? If you weren't so lazy, she wouldn't be lying in that bed right now!" His voice was thick with indignation, as if he were a protective son or a loyal lover scolding a negligent servant. "Do you have any idea how much pain she’s in? A broken leg, internal bruising..."

The room went silent. The relatives and friends who had gathered to check on Victoria exchanged baffled glances. They knew who I was. More importantly, they knew who he was—or rather, who he was supposed to be.

Victoria cast a surprisingly tender look at him before turning to me, her voice softening into a placating coo. "He’s just a kid, Gavin. He’s one of my dealership managers, fiercely protective of his clients. He’s blunt, but he means well. Don’t take it to heart."

I didn’t take it to heart. How could I? To take something to heart, you have to care where that heart is currently residing. And looking at the way her eyes lingered on his disheveled hair, I knew hers was no longer with me.

I watched the boy—Parker—until he ran out of breath and his tirade sputtered into a sniffle.

"Done?" I asked, my voice flat, devoid of the theatricality they were both indulging in. "Then it’s my turn."

I shifted my gaze to Parker. "This is the second time your dealership has made a 'clumsy' error with my vehicle. If I don’t receive a comprehensive, forensic explanation by tomorrow morning, you can explain it to the police and my family’s legal team instead."

* * *

Parker’s face went paper-white. He instinctively turned toward the bed, seeking sanctuary.

Victoria’s expression shifted. "Gavin, it was my fault. I fumbled the controls. It has nothing to do with Parker. I’ve already handled the insurance."

"Your fault?" I arched a brow, looking directly at her. "How is it?"

Victoria coughed, a dry, nervous sound. "I’m fine. Just the leg and a mild concussion. It’s really not—"

"I was asking about the car," I interrupted.

Parker gasped, the sound sharp and theatrical. "She’s in a hospital bed and you only care about the car? Do you even have a soul?"

"You must be Parker Reed," I said, folding my arms slowly. I didn’t raise my voice; I didn't need to. "First, that car is a two-million-dollar limited edition hypercar. There are five in the country. Second, Victoria is my wife. Legally, she was doing me a favor. Is there a problem with that?"

I paused, my eyes dropping to where his hand was white-knuckled, clutching the hem of Victoria’s hospital gown.

"And finally... you’re just a scholarship student Victoria once sponsored. Tell me, in what capacity exactly are you standing here questioning me?"

Parker’s face flushed a deep, ugly crimson. He let go of her gown as if it had turned into a live wire, but his mouth kept moving, desperate to salvage his dignity. "I... I just care about her! You could have picked up that car yourself, but you made her do it. And now she’s bleeding, and you haven’t even asked if she’s had water!"

I glanced at a text from my assistant that had just buzzed in my pocket. I let out a short, cold laugh.

"You should worry less about her hydration and more about your future, Parker. The damage appraisal just came in. Preliminary repairs are estimated at four hundred thousand dollars. How would you like to pay? Visa or Mastercard?"

Parker’s knees buckled. He swayed, looking at me with a mix of terror and righteous fury. "Four hundred thousand? That’s... that’s extortion!" He turned piteously to the bed. "Victoria..."

Victoria groaned as she tried to sit up, the movement clearly aggravating her ribs. "Gavin, stop. He’s just starting out in the world. He doesn't have that kind of money. Don’t scare him."

She looked at him, then back at me. "It was my error. I’ll cover the costs."

A flash of triumph crossed Parker's face. He tried to hide it, but the smug curl of his lip was unmistakable.

I looked at my wife, the woman I had built a life with for five years, and felt a wave of profound exhaustion. "You’re quite the philanthropist, Victoria. Wasn't buying him the dealership enough?"

The blood drained from her face. She hadn't realized I knew about the "gift."

Parker lost his bravado instantly. He bit his lip, trying to look small. "Mr. Emerson, please... take it out on me, not her. She only helped me because she felt sorry for me."

Victoria sighed, waving a hand at him. "It’s fine, Parker. Just go. I’ll handle this."

He lingered, walking toward the door like a kicked puppy, only to turn back at the last second. He pressed a small, decorative glass jar into Victoria's palm.

His eyes were shimmering, a look so heavy with longing it was practically cinematic. Anyone with a pulse could see the electricity between them.

"Mr. Emerson," Parker whispered as he passed me, "it was a mechanical oversight. The car wasn't fully inspected before I let her drive it. Please don't misunderstand... the jar is full of hand-folded paper stars. I made one for every hour she’ll be in recovery. Just to help her heal faster."

Mechanical oversight?

The dealership had called me specifically to say the car was "perfect." And the last time the brakes failed... was that an oversight, too?