Fated To Three, Betrayed By All… Until She Rose novel Chapter 81

**Healing Slowly But Surely**
By R. Joseph

I reclined against the unforgiving surface of the hospital bed, a gentle smile gracing my lips as I absorbed the sound of Jarek’s voice. He was reading aloud from his phone, a series of emails related to work, and I found solace in the familiarity of his presence.

As he transitioned from emails to text messages, I could hear the concern woven into the words of our colleagues who had learned about my unfortunate ordeal. Some messages were succinct, mere acknowledgments of my situation, but it was Yvette, his ever-enthusiastic personal assistant, who truly captured my heart. Her message proclaimed, “The office feels so bleak and grey without your constant color.”

This declaration sent a ripple of laughter through both Jay and me, and in that fleeting moment, I felt a swell of gratitude for him. Over the past two days, he had been my unwavering support, a guiding light in the darkness, attending to my needs with a tenderness that I had not anticipated.

It was remarkable, really, how he seemed unfazed by the strange circumstances that had led us to part on less than ideal terms after that party—a night I preferred to keep locked away in the recesses of my mind. Since he had chosen not to mention it, I decided to follow suit for now.

I turned my gaze toward him, a hint of mischief in my voice. “So, how’s everything with CUSP going? I’ve drafted the outline and created several templates that could streamline the implementation of its core logic, but—”

He interrupted me with an incredulous gasp, “You’re halfway to hell, probably dining with the devil himself, and you’re still thinking about work right now?” His brows knitted together in concern as he glanced at me, but I stubbornly pressed on. “Could you bring my laptop over?”

“The very same laptop we discovered in the backseat of your car, left wide open in the company parking lot on Monday morning?” he replied, his tone playful yet serious. Lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper, he added, “Can you tell me exactly what happened? I’ve been worried sick, mulling over every possible scenario, and I’m utterly lost! How did your car end up abandoned at the office while you were missing? And why did all of this unfold on Sunday night?”

“I was at the company,” I replied tersely, choosing to ignore the rest of his probing questions. “I went in because I was feeling restless. That was when I created those templates.”

“I’m not disputing that…” Jay said softly, brushing a stray hair from my face. A shiver coursed through me as his fingers grazed my skin, the warmth of his touch igniting a flicker of something deep within. “…but I think—no, I know—you were kidnapped or something similar, yet you seem so hesitant to share any details.”

His words caused me to freeze momentarily, my eyes fluttering shut as I exhaled a long, shaky breath. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Why not?” he snapped, the urgency in his voice betraying his concern. But as if realizing his tone was too harsh, he softened, “I understand that you might not want to relive what happened; it must have been traumatic for you. I won’t push you for answers… but just know, I will find out. And when I do, I’ll make sure they pay.”

Slowly, I lifted my gaze to meet his, my hands clenched into fists atop the bed. I shook my head resolutely.

“No.”

“No, what?”

“No, you wouldn’t destroy them.” My voice trembled, betraying the fear that gnawed at me. I could still feel the icy gaze of Caelum and Kael, the prick of the needle against my skin, the dampness of that cold, oppressive room. I murmured, “You wouldn’t make them pay.”

“Why?”

“Because I’ll handle it myself… and because there’s no concrete evidence linking them to what they did to me.” The words tumbled out, each one heavier than the last as tears began to spill down my cheeks. “If we report them, I’ll just be crying wolf… and innocent people could get dragged into this mess.”

“Do you realize you’re protecting your kidnappers, Leilani? You’re shielding them—whoever they are,” he pressed, his concern deepening as tears continued to flow from my eyes. I lowered my gaze, feeling the weight of his words.

In truth, I was weary of dragging him into my turmoil, exhausted from burdening him with a nightmare that was not his to bear. My eyelids felt heavy as I focused on the intricate patterns of the bedsheets, and after a brief moment of hesitation, I whispered, “I’m not protecting them. I would never do that.”

“Are you sure?” he asked, a note of skepticism in his tone. Sighing, he added, “I can almost swear that you are.”

“I’m sure.”

“Why do I feel like they’re your friends?” he asked suddenly, causing my head to snap up, shock coursing through me.

He frowned, shaking his head as realization dawned on him. “It’s them. No wonder.”

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