I woke up in the hospital room alone, the silence only broken by the steady beep of monitors. After the Beaumonts left, I'd been waiting for Arthur to return. He'd promised he would, and I found myself checking the door every few minutes.
Hours passed. The sky outside darkened.
My phone buzzed with a text from an unknown number. It was Arthur's assistant: "Mr. Sterling sends his apologies. An urgent business matter requires his attention. He won't be able to visit tonight."
Just like that, the small flame of hope I'd been nurturing flickered out. I should have known better than to expect anything else.
I stared at the ceiling, feeling the weight of isolation press down on me. The accusations. The whispers. The headlines screaming that I was a murderer. And now, even Arthur was too busy to spare me an hour.
Sleep didn't come easily that night.
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