My Billionaire Husband's Deadly Betrayal

A blinding white light pierced my eyelids. My head throbbed, a dull, insistent ache behind my right temple. The familiar scent of antiseptic filled my nostrils. I was back in a hospital bed. Again.

Amir was there, sitting by my side, looking suitably concerned. His hair was slightly disheveled, his eyes a little bloodshot. The performance of a worried husband.

"Blake. Thank god you're awake," he said, reaching for my hand. "You had me so worried."

I flinched, pulling my hand away. The movement sent a fresh wave of pain through my head. "Don't touch me." My voice was a raw whisper.

His hand paused in mid-air, then slowly retreated. "Blake, about what happened... It was an accident. Hailie was so distraught. She said you grabbed her, and she pushed you because she was scared." He paused, a practiced sigh escaping his lips. "She's so young, so delicate. This whole situation with Keon, it's been incredibly taxing on her."

My eyes, still blurry, found his. "Keon is dead, Amir."

He shifted uncomfortably. "Yes, I know, darling. And it's devastating. But that doesn't give you license to attack Hailie. She's just a child, emotionally. Her brother just died, too, remember? She's vulnerable."

"Vulnerable?" I scoffed, a dry, humorless sound. "She pushed me down a flight of stairs, Amir. And you stood there, watching her perform, believing her lies."

"She was terrified, Blake," he insisted, his voice hardening slightly. "She thought you were going to hurt her. You doctors, you get so clinical sometimes, you forget about emotional fragility." He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a persuasive murmur. "Look, I know you're hurting. We both are. But we need to move past this. For Keon."

"For Keon?" I echoed, the name tasting like ash in my mouth. "Is that why you were with Hailie when he was dying, ignoring my calls? Is that why you're defending her now?"

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I was supporting her, Blake. She needed me. Her cooperation was crucial for Keon's procedure. I had to ensure she was in the right headspace." His eyes, so sincere, were a mask. "It was all for Keon, darling. You know that."

"If it happened again, Amir," I asked, my voice barely audible, "if Hailie was with her brother, needing a heart, and I was with Keon, needing a heart. And only one of us could make the final decision. You have to save one. Which one would it be?"

He froze. His gaze flickered away from mine, towards the window, towards the ceiling. He cleared his throat. "That's a hypothetical, Blake. We don't need to-"

"Which one, Amir?" I pressed, my voice gaining strength, though it still felt like a monumental effort. "Would you still choose the young, fragile artist? Or would you choose your wife, the mother of your future children, who is fighting for her brother's life?"

The silence stretched, thick and suffocating. He wouldn't look at me. He couldn't answer. And in that agonizing silence, I had my answer. He would choose her. Always her.

Just then, his phone vibrated. He glanced at the screen, a soft expression melting his features. It was Hailie.

"Hello, darling?" His voice was honeyed, completely different from the clipped tone he'd used with me. "Yes, I'm still here. Don't worry, everything's fine." He listened, his brow furrowing slightly. "Oh, you're still having nightmares? My poor little bird. Of course. I'll be right there. Don't move."

He looked at me, a fleeting expression of something that might have been guilt crossing his face. "Hailie needs me, Blake. She's very shaken by what happened."

"Go, Amir," I said, my voice cold and hard. "Go to your little bird. I don't need you."

He hesitated for a moment, then stood up, leaving his expensive watch on the bedside table. "I'll be back," he promised, though his eyes were already elsewhere.

"Don't bother," I said, turning my head away. "I told you, I don't need you."

He left. Quickly. As if relieved.

Days later, I was discharged. My head still ached, and my body felt bruised and battered, but it was my heart that truly felt broken. I returned to our sprawling Chicago penthouse, a place that now felt hollow and cold.

Amir tried to maintain appearances. "We have the gallery opening tonight, darling," he announced, striding into my room, Hailie's perfume clinging to his expensive suit. "Hailie's debut. You simply must come. People are expecting us."

"I'm not going," I said, not looking up from the medical journal I pretended to read.

He frowned. "Blake, don't be difficult. This is important for Hailie. And for us. We need to project a united front, especially after... everything." He sat on the edge of the bed, his weight making the mattress dip. "Besides, Keon would have wanted you to support local artists."

My blood ran cold. Keon. He always knew how to use my brother against me. He reached for my arm. "Come on, Blake. It's just for a few hours. We'll show everyone we're fine." His grip tightened, not painful, but firm, insistent. "Don't make me force you."

My head pounded. My body still ached from the fall. I was too tired to fight. Too broken.

"Fine," I whispered, defeated. "I'll go."