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"What is it?"
"‘L’ is after Mr. Marshall. He’s taken it personally. But unlike your boyfriend, who wants to bring him to justice, the kind of ‘justice’ L delivers is...different."
"What do you mean?"
"You don’t need the details. Just know that if William’s father never faces the law, it won’t mean he got away. You can be certain that ‘L’ will make him pay."
William
CHAPTER FIFTY
As I holdher hand in mine, my finger instinctively strokes Taylor’s ring finger.
I didn’t do it on purpose. It has become a kind of tic or compulsion, as if the absence of an engagement ring lingers in my subconscious, warning me that at any moment, she might leave.
I’m not an idiot. I know that a mere ring, or even a marriage contract, isn’t enough to stop her from waking up one day and realizing I’m not worth it, leaving for good this time.
But as the months pass and her memory doesn’t return, the feeling that I’ll never truly have her in my life grows stronger.
Not even watching Bonnie’s testimony on video—days after the nurse was arrested and confessed what happened the night of the kidnapping—was enough to break her amnesia.
The psychiatrists I’ve spoken to told me she must have suffered a severe trauma and that her unconscious mind is using amnesia as a defense mechanism. Athanasios agrees that it doesn’t seem to be anything physical. He’d like to examine her, but she still refuses to see him.
"If it’s so important to you, I can wear one," she says, catching me off-guard when I pretend not to notice her watching me as we walk.
"It doesn’t matter," I lie.
She steps in front of me. "It does."
I cup her face in my hands. "Why are you so afraid to accept our commitment? No matter what happened, I will never blame you, Taylor."
"Maybe I won’t be able to forgive myself."
I pull her into a hug. I’ve never been one for public displays of affection, but I can’t keep my hands off her. I don’t care about the hospital staff and patients passing by, smiling as they see us.
We’re making rounds in the intensive care unit, checking on my most critical cases, and it’s the first time Taylor has come with me. She decided to join me today after I told her about a newly admitted patient—an elderly woman who survived a fire but lost her entire family. She came out of a coma a few days ago, and Taylor asked if she could visit her, maybe even play for her to lift her spirits.
The woman I love has made a difference among my patients, both children and adults. They all adore her, and even the hospital staff pause to listen when she plays.
I asked if she’d consider performing publicly, but she said no. She loves working in the hospital, and as long as the obstetrician allows, she’ll keep doing it.
We’re just steps away from Mrs. Krulce’s room when, suddenly, we hear screaming.
I close my eyes, irritated, because I already know where it’s coming from—and why. It’s not pain; it’s rage.
It’s not uncommon for burn survivors to experience depression, especially when they realize that no matter how many reconstructive surgeries they undergo, they will never look the same again.
In this specific patient’s case, it could be some depression, yes—but it’s also because he has a hellish temper.
He has no family. He was admitted thanks to an anonymous benefactor. All we know is that his only relative, his mother, died more than two years ago—about the same amount of time he spent in a coma.
He only woke up a few months ago.
When he first arrived, for the first time since I became a doctor, I thought there wasn’t much I could do for a patient. But slowly, he started recovering, though it’s likely he will need care for the rest of his life. He can’t walk. He can’t even perform the most basic tasks alone, like eating or going to the bathroom.
"What’s going on? Why is he screaming like that?"
"No one has a clue. He spends the entire day calling for a woman."