Behind Her Smile

by Luck, Olivia

  I shut my eyes, not wanting to watch whatever’s coming next.

  At least if I have to die, I will be with my baby. There’s peace in death. No more broken ribs and wrists and miscarriages. No more pain. Death will be the deepest sleep. David cannot hurt me anymore once I’m gone. In that, I find a whisper of consolation.

  “Gang’s all here,” Victor mutters.

  Clenching my eyes tighter still, I suck in a breath. The mind-numbing panicking settles and one thought reverberates through my mind: Please, make this quick.

  “Boss—hold up!” Victor’s urgency surprises me enough to snap my eyes open. Confusion launches the room into chaos. Victor and Cox stare at David wildly. There’s a tiny red dot pointing dead center on his chest. A sniper’s target. Could it be help? I try not to get caught up in a wave of hope.

  “What the fuck is this?” David stumbles to the left. The dot follows each movement without wavering. All the superiority he wore with unfiltered glee only a few moments earlier melts into uncertainty. The shutters hiding what lurks behind his kind blue-green eyes are gone. David is afraid. No, that’s not strong enough of a word. He’s terrified.

  In David’s raw, inhibited fear, I find my own tiny piece of solace.

  Boom! Boom! Boom!

  A thunderous procession of bangs and then the splintering of wood cause me to yelp. My heart takes a flying leap into my throat. Booted steps storm through the house in rapid succession. Not more than a few seconds pass before four men burst into the office, guns drawn.

  “Hands in the air,” one shouts. Cox and Victor, apparently used to this dance, immediately drop their weapons and lift their arms above their head in compliance.

  “You manipulative bitch! You called the cops? What the fuck!” David tears across the room toward me, taking a flying leap and crashing against me. For the second time, the chair tumbles backward with me attached to it. I land on the carpet with a thud, and I cry out from the pain reverberating from the base of my neck through the length of my spine.

  “You are dead. Do you hear me, Karolina? Dead!” David rages manically, his screams turning incoherent when one of the police officers yanks him away from my trembling body. Two uniformed SWAT team members surround where I lie on the floor. They lift me into a seated position with swift, synchronized motions. Then the man behind me slices through the zip ties binding my hands together. I shake sensation back into my wrists and hands. They are raw and scratched from the restraints.

  Meanwhile, the police officers drag a raving David out of the room. I watch in stoic silence as a team of police officers begins tearing through the office, obviously looking for evidence of some sort. A man in jeans and a shirt with an FBI crest over his right pectoral stoops down to my level.

  “I didn’t know. I don’t know. What is going on? What did David do? How did you know he was trying to hurt me?” The words tumble out in an incoherent babble. “Please—please, you have to believe me. I have no idea what David’s been doing. He tried to kill me! He hired those men to kill me so he could run away.”

  The man looks the part of a police officer with a salt and pepper crew cut and hard sky-colored eyes. “Karolina, calm down.”

  My breaths come out in uneven gasps. “Please. Do you believe me?”

  Some of the hardness in his gaze melts. “We know you are in no way associated with your husband’s illegal activities. Can you take a deep breath?”

  I inhale choppily; the burden still presses down on me but not as intensely. “What is going on?”

  The officer extends a paw of a hand to me. Gingerly, I accept the help and rise to my feet. “This is an ongoing investigation, and I can’t give you any details at this time. It would be best for you to obtain a lawyer. From there, we’ll get you as much information as possible.”

  At the word lawyer, my stomach drops. Lawyer. I could divorce David. I would never have to see him again. Finally. Freedom. The concept overwhelms all my senses. All of it—all of it—crashes over me like a relentless tidal wave. The death of my unborn son. The murder of William, Georgia, and Chandler. The constant mental and physical abuse. Wooziness makes me stumble forward. Something catches me before I hit the ground.

  Later, jostling at my elbow rouses me from a deep sleep. A woman wearing blue scrubs hovers over me. She uses a penlight to assess my reactivity to light.

  I wince away from the jarring light. “Ouch,” I mutter.

  She rushes through an introduction. I don’t remember her name. The woman asks me a series of questions about my name, age, and who is president of the United States. Mercifully, she finishes the exam quickly allowing me to fall into another bout of sleep. What feels like only two minutes later, another scrub-clad person wakes me and we roll through the same questions. The process repeats again and again until brilliant sun rays filter through the windows. Finally, the interruptions are too difficult to ignore.

  “Good morning.” The familiar voice stuns me. Doctor Lewis, the longtime friend of the Morgan family, stands at the foot of the hospital bed holding a chart. I could cry in relief at his gentleness. “How are you feeling?”

  Lifting a hand to my forehead, I investigate. I wince when my fingers brush over a bump on my temple. “Other than a headache and tenderness on my face, everything else seems to be okay.”

  Doctor Lewis nods in approval. “Very good. Out of this whole mess, the one piece of good news is that you don’t have any serious injuries. There is some bruising on your face, back, and ribs, raw skin on your wrists, but no concussion. I’ll be happy to discharge you today.”

  I don’t hear most of what he says, frozen on ‘this whole mess.’

  “You know what happened?” I hate the wobble in my voice.

  Doctor Lewis places the chart in a plastic sleeve attached to the end of the bed. “Enough,” he says grimly. “The physical evidence is impossible to hide. There are signs of badly healed broken ribs. Contusions hid by your clothing. Your son.” The doctor’s voice cracks on the word. In silent response, my heart squeezes painfully in my chest. He shakes his head mournfully. “I failed you, Karolina. When you came in with a broken wrist, I didn’t press you hard enough. You’ll never know how deeply sorry I am for not doing more to extract you from that villain.”

  A rush of moisture pools behind my lashes. “Doctor Lewis, that is incredibly kind of you to say, but it wasn’t your responsibility. I should have left him, but I didn’t.”

  “I consider caring for the community part of my job.”

  “Agree to disagree?” I ask with a failed attempt at a smile. Doctor Lewis thinks he could have stepped in and saved me from David’s torment, but it’s David’s fault. All of this—every last bruise and hurtful word—are because of my own failings. I trusted David too readily. I threw away all the things I worked for to become nothing more than a pretty mannequin brought out only when it would benefit my husband. I didn’t stand up for myself. I let him bowl me over time and again until he amassed enough power over me to plan to kill me.

  Swallowing the building emotion, I gaze vacantly at my clasped hands. More than anything, I want to be alone.

  Doctor Lewis stays long enough to do a quick examination and tells me a nurse will be by soon to go through discharge instructions and prescriptions. The physical pain is the least of my worries. Just when I think I have time to myself, the door to the private hospital room opens again. I steel myself for the next visitor.

  Adriana Martinez prowls into the room, wearing an expertly cut white sundress and an oversized Goyard tote on her shoulder. She should be at a charity luncheon, not in this sterile hospital room.

  “What are you doing here?” I blurt without thought for how rude I may come across. Your days of following made-up rules are over. David’s demands are worthless to you. Despite the inward reminder, I can’t help but wonder . . .

  “Oh, Karolina.” Adriana doesn’t succeed in holding back a trickle of tears. She tosses her handbag on a vacant chair and sits next to my kne
e. She places one hand on my calf hidden by the thin hospital bedding, her expression a mix of devastation and horror. “If you’ll allow it, I’d like to be your friend. A real friend, not like one of those ladies who lunch faux relationships.”

  “Adriana, I don’t know which way is up.”

  “That’s why you need a true friend now more than ever. Hector and I want to help you in any way we can. Starting with bringing you home to our house from the hospital.” I stare at her in unabashed shock. I hadn’t begun to think about where I would go once I was discharged. My immediate, visceral reaction is there’s no way I’ll go back to that house. What about Miranda and Carlo? Surely, they are wondering what’s going on. I’ll need to call them and . . . My God, what am I going to do?

  Adriana tentatively covers my hand with hers. Her motherly touch is petal soft and incredibly comforting. Instantly, my spiraling thoughts slow down. “There’s much to be decided. You don’t have to do it alone.”

  For once, I know that someone truly, truly wants to support me.

  I shatter.

  Fat tears roll down my cheeks, and a shuddering sob makes my shoulders twitch. Alone, alone, alone. Even with David, I was alone. Adriana wants my friendship. It’s almost too much to comprehend.

  When the other woman collects me into her arms, pressing me close, I nod against her. “Please, please help me.”

  Alec

  Adriana exits Karolina’s room clutching a handkerchief to her breast. She gives me a hard stare where I wait with Hector. “Don’t you dare push her,” she says sternly. “Karolina needs to be handled with care.”

  I ignore the implication that I would harm Karolina. Never. “Does she know I’m waiting to see her?” Adriana and Hector joined me in the hospital waiting room an hour or so ago. Last night, once Hector got a tip from his inside friend at the FBI, he let me know Karolina was being taken to the hospital. I parked myself in the waiting room at midnight and haven’t left for a shower or coffee break. My nerves are steadily fraying. If I don’t see Karolina in the next few minutes, I’ll lose my mind.

  Seven days have never seemed longer than the ones I spent waiting for the FBI to make their move on David. It felt like I was chained to my office, hardly leaving the place because work was the only thing that could keep me from driving across town and stealing Karolina away from her pain and suffering. That was until Adriana showed up and dragged me first to a barber to get my hair under control and then to dinner with her husband. Some of the tension I carried with me abated with I found out Adriana wanted to support Karolina nearly as much as I do.

  Adriana walks straight into her husband’s waiting arms. She moves to kiss him on the cheek, murmuring something I cannot hear. Hector tightens his hold on Adriana, trying to soothe his wife’s distress. Still in the safety of her husband’s embrace, Adriana turns her face toward me. “Before you go in there, you should know she’s a shadow of herself. Thank God almighty she agreed to our help because I don’t know what she would do if let out on her own.”

  I have no right to take ownership over Karolina’s well-being, but proprietary be damned. It’s a huge relief that Karolina’s not letting pride get in the way of a friend reaching out during her time of need.

  Nodding shortly to Adriana and Hector, I stride to the door and enter the room. The stale, medicinal scent of the hallway carries into the hospital room. Bland white walls make for a boring, lifeless room. The opposite of what I would consider beneficial to healing.

  There in the center of the room stands a narrow hospital bed. Thankfully, this is a private room, so no one is able to intrude on Karolina’s tragedy. My gaze falls on Karolina, and I hold back a sharp intake of breath. For as long as I’ve known Karolina, I would describe her as full of life. From the bounce of her long, shiny dark hair to the sparkle of playfulness in her deep brown eyes to her general aura of intelligence and kindness.

  This Karolina lies limply in the half-raised bed. Bruises mar her cheeks, fingerprints ring her throat, and her left eye is nearly swollen shut. Even though her skin is still smooth and tanned, she lacks the infusion of life. She’s pale, slumping into the bed.

  “Are you the last surprise guest?” she asks not unkindly but with a level of defeat I’ve never heard from her. The impact is devastating and infuriating. If David Morgan weren’t in a cell somewhere, I would take pleasure in torturing him until he begged for mercy. And then I’d kill him.

  Without waiting for an invitation, I sit next to her hip and take her hand in mine. “I don’t know what to say,” I confess. Because there’s no way Karolina is ready to hear what I really want to tell her.

  “There’s nothing to say,” she says numbly. “Excuse me if I’m being impolite, but I can’t understand, after our last exchange, why you would be at my hospital bedside. I got what I deserved, right?” I stare at her in alarm. The words should be delivered sardonically—she shouldn’t believe them as she so clearly does.

  “No, Karolina. You didn’t deserve any of this—not my unforgivable vitriol and not any of the horror David put you through. None of it. You took the worst of my pain, and I beg you to forgive me.” I lace our fingers together and bend down kiss each of her knuckles.

  “There’s nothing to forgive.” No inflection colors Karolina’s dull words.

  “Perhaps that is what you believe. But you’re only strengthening my resolve to show you I need to earn your forgiveness. Arrogantly, I thought I could tell you I love you and that would start our relationship. I realize now how ridiculous a request that was to a woman of your caliber.” I tighten my grip on her hand. For the first time since I entered the room, Karolina lifts her eyes to mine. Though they are red and rimmed with tears that had already fallen, she shows no emotion. “A loyal, giving, brilliant, funny, incredible woman like you deserves more than a rabid pronouncement of love and a rushed kiss. I want to give you the world.”

  Karolina blinks. In response, my heart clenches. Losing her is not an option. No matter what she says, she belongs with me.

  “Don’t you see that’s how I got myself into this situation in the first place?” Karolina turns, her gaze focusing on the view of palm trees lining the perimeter of the hospital parking lot. “I gave myself to David without so much as a second thought. He gave me his version of the world. The price I paid was my version of the world had to disappear. No more friends, no more school, no more work. I gave him my entire existence. You saw it yourself.”

  With my free hand, I press the pads of two fingers on her chin until she turns back to face me. What I have to say is too important for her not to look into my eyes when I speak. She needs to listen with all her senses. Take in what I have to say and get the true meaning. “I will never hurt you. I will never steal your passion or push you into a corner. I will never make you feel that you are less than the most important person in my life. The woman I love doesn’t need to change. She has bravery like no one I have ever seen. She is an exquisite creature. She is selfless and giving. Life is too short for mediocrity. Any woman, other than the woman you are today, is mediocre. I am not giving up on the woman I love.”

  Karolina sucks in a breath, and her chocolate eyes go wide.

  Inwardly, I smile. The woman hears me. She doesn’t believe that she is the woman I see. Not yet. But I’ll correct that misconception.

  “I’m not—I don’t—you can’t–”

  I kiss her softly, channeling all the admiration, tenderness, and affection I have for her into the connection. “When you’re ready.” Some of the tension in her shoulders melts. There’s no sign of acquiescence, though. Lifelessness creeps back into her eyes, and she collapses against the stiff pillows in exhaustion. What I would give to take her straight from this hospital to my home to pamper and love her. However, snatching Karolina’s ability to make decisions for herself would make me no better than David Morgan.

  Walking away from Karolina at this moment fills me with remorse. Doing the right thing isn’t always the thing that fee
ls the best. I’m grimacing when I step out into the hallway. Adriana rushes to me, grabbing my upper arms to hold me at arm’s length. “What happened?”

  Determination steels my voice. “I’m going to bring her back.”

  Karolina

  When the door opens again, I clench my fist so hard that my fingernails dig in my palms. What now? Thankfully, I’ve had no more surprise visitors. This time, it’s the nurse arriving with my discharge instructions. Adriana bustles into the room after her, taking over for me. I’m thankful for her because then I don’t have to think about medication doses or other things . . . like Alec’s confession. He stole the breath right from my lungs. All those beautiful things he said about me—I loathe for the day to come when he realizes none of it is a true. I’m weak. Pathetic. Timid. A mother guilty of the most unforgivable sin.

  Adriana gives me a pair of leggings, an oversized heather gray t-shirt, a black cardigan, and large sunglasses to cover the ugly bruises scattered across my face and neck. Before we leave, I toss the negligée and robe I wore last night in the garbage. If I never see the silky black garments again, it will be too soon.

  In the hallway, Hector waits for us to emerge from the room. I trail behind Adriana, and when I reach him, he moves to stand on my other side. The older man wraps an arm around my shoulders and hugs me against him. “Thank you for coming with us,” he mutters.

  I glance down to the tile floor. He’s thanking me? I should be the one falling all over myself with gratitude. Adriana and Hector keep me sandwiched between them, my very own protective unit. A blast of appreciation fills me. They lead me to a familiar scene: a luxury sedan idling in the parking lot. A man in a dark suit smiles kindly at me and helps me into the backseat of the vehicle.