The night after Harold's downfall was supposed to bring peace. Instead, it brought dread.
Courtney woke to the sterile hum of machines and the faint antiseptic sting of the hospital room. The light was dim, the curtains half-drawn, allowing only a soft gray glow to filter through. Her head throbbed, each pulse a reminder of Sean's hand, the way his voice had turned from charming to cruel in a matter of seconds.
She tried to sit up, but pain lanced through her ribs. The IV tugged at her arm, and the movement sent a monitor beeping. Within moments, a nurse appeared, smiling gently as she adjusted the bed controls.
"You're awake," the nurse said softly. "Good. You've been asleep for almost a full day. The doctor will want to speak with you soon."
