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?

The First Night

Truly alone in a cool quiet room. No security cameras staring at me from the corner of the ceiling. No ridiculous curfew.

I watched the IV fluid drip slowly, one drop at a time counting down the moments of my freedom. Doctor Miles had given me three days. Three days to plan my next move.

Three days to find out what really happened to Rebecca, that poor first wife. That night I couldn’t sleep. Even though my body was exhausted, my mind drifted to the past recalling every strange detail in our home that I had previously dismissed.

When we first married and moved into Preston’s house, I once found an old gold earring wedged in a crack in the bathroom cabinet. At the time Preston said it belonged to his deceased mother. But now, after hearing Doctor Miles’s story, the hairs on my arms stood up.

What if it belonged to Rebecca? And why was Preston so obsessed with keeping that bathroom floor perfectly dry and clean, even getting enraged over a single drop of water? My mind began to piece together a horrifying puzzle,.

The master bathroom in our house wasn’t just a place to get clean. It was a crime scene that had been meticulously scrubbed. Preston thought he had erased all the evidence but he forgot that a crime is like a dead rat hidden in the ceiling.

No matter how much perfume you spray, the stench will eventually leak out. And I was just starting to smell it. Suddenly there was a soft knock on my door making me jump and nearly rip out my IV line.

My heart pounded. Was Preston back? Did he forget his wallet? Or had he changed his mind and decided to drag me home tonight?

The door creaked open and Doctor Miles’s head poked in. He looked tired with dark circles under his eyes but his faint smile was still there.

“Sorry to disturb you so late Mrs. Davenport,” he whispered as he slipped inside carefully closing the door behind him.

He wasn’t checking on me as a patient. Instead he pulled a small folded piece of paper from his coat pocket.

“Preston has gone home. I saw his car leave the premises,” he reported like a secret agent.

He quickly tucked the paper under my pillow. “This is my personal cell number and the address of a safe house run by a friend of mine, just in case our plan goes south.”

He looked at me intently. “Tomorrow I’ll arrange for you to have a head scan. It will take a long time and Preston won’t be allowed in the room. That’s when we can talk more freely. Now get some rest. You’ll need your strength. Our enemy is not an ordinary man. He’s a madman disguised as a sane one.”

After Dr. Miles left I felt for the paper under my pillow. Its texture was rough against my fingertips but it felt more valuable than a property deed. I closed my eyes, this time really trying to sleep.

Outside the window the city lights twinkled as if cheering me on. For the first time in this 5-year hellish marriage I felt a flicker of hope. I was no longer a submissive wife waiting to be slapped,.

My name is Eleanor and I have just declared war.

The Morning Show

The morning sunlight filtering through the thick hospital curtains felt warmer than my husband’s embrace had in the last 5 years. I woke up stiff all over but my heart felt as light as a helium balloon released into the sky.

There was no shouting for coffee to serve as my morning alarm, no slamming doors or complaints about dust on the vanity. There was only the gentle hum of the air conditioner and the chirping of sparrows on the fifth floor window ledge. For a moment I forgot I was a wife pretending to have a concussion.

I felt like a queen on vacation, except my servants wore white scrubs and the breakfast was bland and salt-free. My morning peace was shattered when the door opened to reveal a dapper-looking Preston. He entered carrying a container from a famous gourmet deli, its rich aroma filling the room.

It was the scent of a legendary chicken noodle soup. The kind people line up for blocks to buy.

“Good morning darling,” He greeted me with a wide smile that looked forced, as if his lips were being pulled back by invisible wires.

He placed the container on the table then approached me and gave my forehead a fleeting kiss. It felt as cold and impersonal as kissing a wall.

“I brought your favorite soup. Hospital food is probably terrible right? I don’t want my wife getting skinny. People will think I’m not taking good care of her.”

See, even when it came to food, all he cared about was what other people thought of him. He opened the container pouring its contents into a ceramic bowl he had brought from who knows where.

“Come on let me feed you,” he said holding out a spoonful.

I wanted to refuse but refusing Preston when he was in model husband mode was asking for trouble, so I opened my mouth accepting spoonful after spoonful of soup that suddenly tasted as bitter as medicine. As he fed me he dabbed at the corners of my mouth with a napkin, exactly like a father caring for a toddler at daycare.

If a nurse had walked in then, she would have melted at the sight of how romantic Mr. Davenport was. In reality he was pressing the spoon against my teeth hard enough to make my gums ache.

“My business associate is coming to visit this afternoon. You need to look fresh you hear,” he whispered between spoonfuls.

I nearly choked. “But Preston, you said I needed complete rest. Why are you accepting visitors?” I protested quietly.

Preston glared for a second then quickly forced another smile. “It would be rude to refuse him darling. He’s an important man. You just smile. Don’t talk much. I’ll explain your condition. You just nod your head like one of those bobblehead dolls on a car dashboard.”

I swallowed hard. So even while I was sick I had to serve as a prop to advance his business deals. Truly Mister Davenport’s dedication to his public image was extraordinary.

The breakfast torture mercifully ended when the door was knocked and Dr. Miles entered followed by two nurses. Preston’s face immediately tensed like a naughty student seeing the principal walk in. Doctor Miles smiled pleasantly at both of us but his eyes sent me a secret signal,.

“Morning. How did you sleep Mrs. Davenport?” He asked politely.

Before I could answer he turned to Preston. “Mr. Davenport, as planned. This morning we’ll be doing a full head scan. The equipment is downstairs in a special radiology suite.”

Preston immediately stood up ready to be my escort. “I’ll come with her doctor.”

“I’m sorry sir. That’s not possible,” Dr. Miles cut in quickly and firmly. “The radiology area is a sterile high radiation zone. Companions are prohibited past the prep room except for medical personnel wearing special protective gear. You can wait here or in the guest lounge in the lobby.”

“The procedure might take a while, about 1 to 2 hours because of the queue and the contrast dye preparation.”

That explanation sounded very scientific and intimidating to a layperson. The words “high radiation” successfully made Preston’s courage shrink.

He was terrified of getting sick or anything that could harm his precious body.

“Oh is that so? It’s dangerous for healthy people?” Preston asked hesitantly.

“Extremely risky sir. It can affect fertility and blood cell health if you’re exposed without protection.” Dr. Miles answered with a deadpan expression.

I was sure he was holding back laughter watching Preston’s face grow even paler.

“Well then I’ll just wait here. Doctor please take care of my wife. Don’t let her get a single scratch,” Preston threatened, which sounded ridiculous since I already had plenty of scratches because of him.