Chapter 3

Chapter 3

The next few days blurred into a monotonous cycle of pain and despair. I remained confined to my hospital room, the four walls a constant reminder of my brokenness. Collin and Haylee didn't visit. Their absence was a stark, almost welcome, quiet. They sent a parade of nurses, doctors, and even a physical therapist who seemed to operate under the same cruel directive as the first nurse: efficient, detached, and utterly devoid of empathy. My body was healing at a snail's pace, constantly inflamed, a testament to Haylee's "care."

Then, one morning, a flurry of activity erupted around my room. Boxes began arriving. Expensive, lavish gifts. Designer clothes, glittering jewelry, a state-of-the-art laptop, the latest VR headset. My room quickly transformed into a high-end boutique, overflowing with things I neither wanted nor needed. It was Collin's apology, his way of making amends. A transactional gesture, devoid of any genuine feeling, meant to cover up the gaping chasm between us with superficial glitter. It was just like him to think money could fix everything. He used to do this after our arguments, showering me with gifts until I forgot the fight. This time, it only fueled my resentment.

I scrolled through my phone, my fingers numbly tapping the screen. Haylee's Instagram feed was a blinding kaleidoscope of pink and glitter. New posts, every hour, it seemed. And in every one, there was Collin. Smiling. Doting. He was taking her to Paris, to private islands, showering her with experiences he had always deemed "too frivolous" for us. He bought her a tiny, yapping dog she named "Princess Fluffy-butt" and arranged for a private jet to take them on a "spa retreat" to the Swiss Alps. He even posted a photo of her wearing the diamond earrings he' d promised me for our tenth anniversary, a decade ago. It was a brutal contrast to my life of quiet dedication, of building his empire brick by painstaking brick. I was the silent partner, the architect of his success. She was the trophy, paraded for the world to see, her every whim indulged.

He saw her as the fragile flower needing constant care, while my strength was something to be exploited, then discarded. She was everything I was not, and everything he now seemed to want. The realization was a bitter pill. He didn't want a partner. He wanted a plaything, a reflection of his own inflated ego. And in his twisted mind, I, with my sharp mind and independent spirit, had threatened that.

A sharp rap on the door broke my reverie. A stern-faced assistant entered, holding a garment bag. "Ms. Blair. Mr. Brewer requires your presence at the Brewer Tech Gala this evening. Your gown."

The Brewer Tech Gala. The annual event I had meticulously planned for years, showcasing the very innovations I had spearheaded. It was meant to be my night, the night Collin publicly acknowledged my contributions to the company's groundbreaking new AI. A wave of nausea washed over me. I wanted to refuse, to scream, but then another thought formed, cold and clear. Why not? Why not attend? It was my work, after all, my legacy. And I had a feeling this night wouldn' t unfold quite as Collin expected. I would go. Not for him, but for myself.

That evening, dressed in the exquisite gown he had sent, I arrived at the grand ballroom. The familiar hum of excitement, the flashing cameras, the murmur of the tech elite-it all felt alien, distant. Collin stood on stage, charismatic and polished, delivering a speech about Brewer Tech's future. He was everything I had helped him become. As I entered, a ripple went through the crowd. His eyes found mine, and a faint, almost imperceptible smile touched his lips. He gestured to an assistant, who then approached me, whispering, "Mr. Brewer requests your presence on stage, Ms. Blair."

I walked towards the stage, each step a testament to my resilience, ignoring the lingering ache in my legs. The spotlight felt harsh, exposing every raw nerve. Collin took my hand, his touch sending a jolt of revulsion through me. "Ladies and gentlemen," he announced, his voice booming with false magnanimity, "as many of you know, Kira Blair has been an invaluable asset to Brewer Tech. Her dedication, her vision... it's truly unparalleled. To acknowledge her contributions, I am proud to announce that I am gifting Kira a significant stake in Brewer Tech-ten percent of my personal shares."

A polite round of applause followed, punctuated by whispers of "how generous." He leaned in, his lips brushing my ear. "See, Kira? I take care of you. This is more than you ever dreamed of, isn't it? More than any silly project or recognition."

I looked out at the glittering crowd, my lips curving into a smile that felt sharp, almost predatory. It wasn't a smile of gratitude. It was a sneer. He thought he could buy me, silence me, with shares in a company I had built with my own hands. My eyes met Haylee's, who stood in the front row, clutching Collin's mother's arm. Her face was contorted with a fleeting flash of jealousy, quickly masked by a simpering smile. Her gaze then darted to someone just behind the stage, a subtle nod passing between them.

A sudden, jarring feedback squealed from the massive projection screen behind us. The lights flickered. A collective gasp rose from the audience. The screen, instead of displaying Brewer Tech's logo, flickered to life with a grainy, humiliating video. It was my mother. Disoriented, confused, her words slurring, her dignity stripped away. The very video Collin had threatened me with.

My breath caught in my throat. My blood ran cold, then hot with a consuming fury. No. Not again. Not here. Not my mother.

Collin' s face went white. He spun around, his eyes blazing, "What the hell is this? Who is responsible?"

A young AV technician, pale and trembling, stammered, "Mr. Brewer, I... I don't know! Haylee-boo told me to run a diagnostic on her private media files before the presentation. She said she had some cute videos of-"

But he never finished. The screen suddenly switched again, and this time, it was me. Private videos. Moments of vulnerability, of intimacy, captured without my knowledge. A choked sob escaped my lips. The whispers in the audience turned into outright derision, laughter, and pity. My world collapsed around me, shattered into a million pieces by the cruel glare of the screen.