I Faked An Injury To Escape My Abusive Billionaire Husband. But The Er Doctor Just Revealed A Dark Secret About My Husband’s First Wife. How Do I Go Back To That House Now?

Forced Discharge

That evening when Dr. Miles came for his routine checkup the tension in the room reached a breaking point. Preston stood with his hands on his hips beside my bed puffing out his chest as if challenging him to a duel.

“Doctor, prepare my wife’s discharge papers for tomorrow morning. I want to take her home for outpatient care,” Preston said without any preamble.

Dr. Miles who was checking my IV paused. He straightened up looking at Preston calmly but his eyes betrayed his disappointment.

“Mr. Davenport, as I told you this morning your wife’s condition is not yet stable. A concussion is not a joke. What if there’s swelling at home? Do you have a CT scanner in your bedroom?”

The debate between the two men was more intense than a presidential debate on television.

“I can hire a private nurse and a doctor on call,” Preston snapped, his voice rising. “I have money. I can buy the medical equipment if I have to. The point is I’m not comfortable with my wife staying here any longer. This hospital service is slow, not up to my standards.”

The classic excuse of a rich man who has run out of arguments. Blame the service. Dr. Miles let out a long sigh. He knew he was in a losing position.

Legally Preston was my guardian and my husband. If he insisted on taking me home against medical advice by signing the release forms the hospital couldn’t legally detain us.

“Fine, if that’s your decision,” Dr. Miles finally said, his voice heavy. “But you will have to sign a statement acknowledging that you assume all risks. And one more thing sir, these medications must be taken on time. If Mrs. Davenport faints again… Don’t blame us.”

Preston smirked victoriously, a cunning smile that made me want to throw a pillow at his face. “Just prepare the papers. I can sign them right now.”

After Preston stepped out for a moment to call an administrative nurse, Dr. Miles quickly approached me. We only had seconds.

“I’m sorry Mrs. Davenport. I can’t hold him off any longer,” Dr. Miles whispered urgently, a guilty look on his face. “He’s too suspicious. If I force you to stay he’ll just become more vigilant and might move you to another hospital where he can buy the doctors off.”

I nodded in resignation tears welling up in my eyes. My fortress was crumbling. Tomorrow I would have to return to the lion’s den alone without the shield of this white coat.

“It’s okay doctor. Maybe this is how it’s meant to be. I have to go back in there to find that evidence right?”

Dr. Miles reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a tiny object the size of a matchstick. It was a mobile phone memory card.

“Listen to me carefully. You must have an old phone or tablet at home that you don’t use right? Insert this card into it once you found the proof. It contains a tracking and auto-recording application that connects directly to my computer system. The moment you activate it I’ll know your location and what’s happening.”,

He pressed the tiny object into my palm. “Hide it somewhere safe. In the seam of your underwear, anywhere Preston won’t touch. And remember Rebecca’s riddle,” he added looking me straight in the eye. “A place that is brightest but also darkest. Find that place Mrs. Davenport. Preston is a neat freak and a control freak. He wouldn’t bury evidence in the yard or throw it in a river. He’s too afraid of it being found by accident. He would keep it close somewhere he can watch it everyday but where no one else would suspect.”

The sound of Preston’s footsteps approached from the hallway. Dr. Miles immediately stepped back resuming his professional stance.

“Get a good night’s rest. The journey home tomorrow will be tiring.”

That night I didn’t sleep a wink. I clutched the tiny memory card so tightly my palm sweated. This object no bigger than a fingernail was the only bridge between me and justice. Tomorrow morning I would once again be a prisoner in my own home.

I would see the cold faces of my guards, feel the chill of the marble floors, and serve the monster named Preston. But this time something was different. I wasn’t going home to surrender.

I was going home as a spy. I was going home to dig a grave for my husband’s career and his freedom. I stared at the clean white hospital ceiling.

“The brightest but also darkest place,” I murmured over and over like a mantra.

What did it mean? Was it the garden lamp or his office where the light was always on? No, that was too simple. Rebecca must have hidden it somewhere connected to her death or a place that was a silent witness to her suffering.

My mind flew to every corner of that mansion searching for a clue. Tomorrow the deadly game of hide-and-seek would begin. And this time I was the one who was seeking. I was going to find it.

Return to the Fortress

The drive home from the hospital felt more like a funeral procession than a return to a comfortable home. Inside the soundproof luxury car, the silence was so thick I could hear Preston’s steady breathing,.

He drove with one hand, completely relaxed as if he had just picked up an online shopping package and not his ailing wife. He occasionally hummed along to the soft jazz on the radio. Meanwhile I sat beside him clutching my handbag as if it were a life raft in a stormy sea.

I watched the congested streets through the window seeing people outside busy with their own lives, free to laugh, free to eat a hot dog from a street vendor, free to be human. I felt an urge to jump out, roll onto the asphalt, and run as fast as I could. But of course with my aching ribs and the automatically locked doors that was just a foolish fantasy.

The towering iron gates of our home creaked open, the automated motor welcoming the king and his favorite captive. The house was the same as when I left it: grand, painted a pristine white, with arrogant massive pillars. But today the house had a different aura in my eyes.

I used to see it as a palace. Now I saw it as an unsolved crime scene. Manny and Maria, our housekeeper, were already standing on the porch to greet us,.

Their heads were bowed low not daring to meet Preston’s gaze. Poor them. Working in this house must be like diffusing a time bomb. One wrong move and everything could explode.

“Take her bag upstairs. Prepare some warm water but not too hot. And remember not a single speck of dust on the vanity,” Preston commanded as soon as he got out of the car.

He didn’t help me this time. Perhaps he figured that now that he was back in his domain he no longer needed to act the part of the concerned husband.

I walked slowly behind him my steps faltering. This time it wasn’t an act. My body truly felt broken after the ordeal.

We went up to the second floor to the master bedroom that was the epicenter of all my nightmares. As soon as the door closed the click of the lock being turned by Preston sounded like a judge’s gavel.

“You rest here. Don’t leave the room unless absolutely necessary. Maria will bring your meals to the door,” he said flatly.

He then held out his right hand palm open. “Give me your phone.”,

I had anticipated this. I handed over my phone with a practiced look of resignation.

“What for Preston? I want to let my mother know I’m home,” I asked pathetically though I already knew the answer.

Preston gave a condescending smirk the kind that belittles your intelligence. “The phone’s radiation is bad for your brain’s recovery. Besides you need peace and quiet. No need to read gossip or strange news. If your mother calls I’ll answer it.”

He slipped my phone into his pocket and walked towards the door. Before leaving he turned back for a moment.

“I have an online meeting in my office downstairs. If you need anything press the intercom button next to the bed. Don’t shout. It’s impolite.”

As soon as Preston left I exhaled a long breath until my lungs felt empty. My knees felt weak. I sank onto the edge of the large bed with its overly slick sheets.

I felt for the secret pocket I had hastily sewn into my undergarment. The small memory card from Doctor Miles was still there warm against my skin, safe. Now the real challenge began,.