After My Boyfriend Humiliated Me, His Uncle Married Me

I looked at Cason.

Really looked at him.

Not the man I'd imagined for five years. Not the memory of someone who'd once driven through the night to see me. Not the version of him I'd been clinging to like a life raft in the middle of the ocean.

Just him. The man standing in front of me. The man who'd put a ring on another woman's finger. The man who'd just watched that woman destroy the last thing I had of my grandmother and done nothing.

The man who was threatening Abuela's life because I wouldn't take him back.

"We're done," I said.

My voice was quiet. Steady. It didn't shake. It didn't rise. It just was.

Cason's face changed. The fake concern dropped away like a mask. What was left was something cold and sharp.

"You don't want to do this," he said.

"I already did."

"Alma." He stepped closer. "Think about what you're saying."

"I have."

"You're upset. You're hurt. You're not thinking clearly."

"I'm thinking clearly for the first time in five years."

His jaw tightened. A muscle jumped near his temple.

"You're making a mistake," he said.

I looked at the shattered bracelet on the floor. At the jade beads scattered across white tile. At the broken clasp under the bed.

"No," I said. "I'm fixing one."

Cason stared at me. His hand curled into a fist at his side. Then he pulled out his phone.

"Fine," he said. "Have it your way."

He dialed. Put the phone to his ear. His eyes never left my face.

"Yeah, it's Cason Stone," he said. His voice was calm. Casual. Like he was ordering coffee. "I need you to pull authorization on a patient. Maria Herrera. Cancel the experimental medication. Effective immediately."

The room tilted.

Mia's grip on my arm tightened so hard it hurt.

"Cason, don't—" she started.

"It's done," Cason said. He ended the call. Slipped the phone back into his pocket. "You want to be done? Then we're done."

I couldn't breathe. Couldn't move. Couldn't think past the roaring in my ears.

Abuela. Her hospital bed. Her thin hands. Her voice telling me to wear the bracelet and find my way back to people who truly loved me.

Abuela, who was alive because of that medication. Only because of that medication.

Cason watched me. Waiting for me to break. Waiting for me to beg.

I didn't.

I looked at him and felt something inside me go very still. Very cold.

"Get out," I said.

His smile was thin and sharp. "Gladly."

He turned to the door. Gestured to someone in the hallway I couldn't see.

"Security will escort you out in twenty minutes," he said. "I suggest you get dressed."

Then he was gone. Clover trailing after him like a shadow.

The door closed.

Mia was saying something. Her voice sounded far away. Underwater.

I stared at the ceiling. At the white tiles. At the fluorescent lights.

Twenty minutes.

I tried to sit up. Pain shot through my arm. The IV pulled. The monitor beeped faster.

"Alma, don't—" Mia started.

"I need to get dressed," I said.

My voice sounded strange. Flat. Like it belonged to someone else.

Mia's eyes were wet. "You can't leave. You just had a car accident. You need to stay—"

"He owns this hospital, Mia."

She stopped. Stared at me.

"The Stone family," I said. "They're on the board. They fund the new wing. If Cason says I leave, I leave."

Mia's face crumpled. "This is insane. This is—"

"Help me up."

She did. Her hands were shaking.

I pulled the IV out myself. A drop of blood welled up. I pressed my thumb against it and stood.

The room swayed. I grabbed the bed rail. Waited for it to steady.

My clothes were in a plastic bag on the chair. Mia handed them to me. I dressed one-handed, the cast making everything twice as hard. My dress from the party. The one I'd spent an hour picking out.

It smelled like champagne and smoke.

I pulled it on anyway.

Footsteps in the hallway. Heavy. Multiple.

The door opened.

Two security guards. Both men. Both big. Both wearing Stone Medical Center badges.

"Ms. Herrera," the first one said. "We need you to come with us."

Mia stepped between us. "She's injured. She needs medical care."

"We have our orders, ma'am."

"Your orders are to throw an injured woman onto the street?"

The guard's face didn't change. "We need you to come with us," he said again. This time to me.

I looked at Mia. At her red eyes and tight jaw and the way her hands were shaking.

"It's okay," I said.

It wasn't okay. Nothing was okay.

But I said it anyway.

The guards walked me through the hallway. Past nurses who looked away. Past patients who stared. Past the elevator and down the back stairs and through a service exit that opened onto the loading dock.

It was raining.

Cold, thin rain that soaked through my dress in seconds.

The guards stopped at the edge of the dock. One of them gestured to the street below.

"You can go," he said.

I looked at him. At his blank face and his Stone Medical Center badge.

"My phone," I said. "My purse. They're still in the room."

"We'll mail them to you."

"I need them now."

"We'll mail them to you," he said again.

Then he turned and walked back inside.

The door closed. Locked.

I stood on the loading dock in the rain. Arm in a cast. Hospital gown under my dress. No phone. No purse. No way to call anyone.

I looked up at the building. At the lit windows. At the Stone Medical Center sign glowing against the dark sky.

Then I turned and walked down the steps to the curb.

The rain was heavier now. It plastered my hair to my face. Soaked through the cast. Made my dress cling to my skin.

I stood on the sidewalk and looked at the empty street.

No cabs. No buses. Just rain and darkness and the distant sound of traffic.

I started walking.

I didn't know where I was going. I just knew I couldn't stay here.

Behind me, the automatic doors of Stone Medical Center slid shut.

And I was alone.