Chapter 2

Charlene Carpenter POV:

The silence in the hospital room was a physical weight, pressing down on my chest, making it hard to breathe. It was broken only by the quiet, rhythmic beep of Gloria' s heart monitor and the sterile whisper of the ventilation system. We lay in parallel beds, two broken dolls in a sterile, white box.

I could feel the ghost of my conversation with Carlisle an hour ago still hanging in the air like toxic smoke. I wondered if Gloria had heard it through her fitful, pain-medication-induced sleep. I hoped not. No one should have to hear that level of vitriol, especially not now.

With a grunt of pain, I pushed myself into a sitting position. Every muscle screamed in protest. My ribs were bruised, my head felt like a cracked gourd, but it was the sight of my hands that made the bile rise in my throat. They were swathed in thick white bandages, resting uselessly on the crisp hospital sheets. The doctor' s words were a repeating loop of damnation in my mind: Nerve damage. Severe. Irreparable.

My career. My identity. My very soul. Gone.

Tears I thought I no longer had pricked at the corners of my eyes. I looked over at Gloria. Her face was ashen, her freckles standing out like tiny brown specks on a marble statue. Even in sleep, her brow was furrowed in pain, and her hand rested protectively on her stomach.

Her flat stomach.

A fresh wave of grief, sharp and brutal, crashed over me. For her. For the nephew I would never meet. For the joy that had been stolen from us.

"We were so stupid, weren' t we?" I whispered, my voice raspy.

Gloria' s eyes fluttered open. They were dull with exhaustion and sorrow. She didn' t say anything, just watched me.

"To think any of it was real," I continued, a bitter laugh escaping my lips. "The grand weddings, the promises... 'I will always protect you, Charlene.' Carlisle said that to me at the altar."

I saw a flicker of the same pained recognition in her eyes. Kade had probably fed her the exact same line.

"He called, you know," I admitted, the shame burning my cheeks. "While you were sleeping."

Gloria' s expression hardened. "What did he say?"

"He accused me of being a drama queen. Of trying to ruin his night with Florence. He said... he said marrying me was the biggest mistake of his life and that as soon as this 'stunt' was over, he was filing for divorce."

The words hung between us, ugly and final. I tried to look nonchalant, to shrug as if it didn' t matter, as if my heart wasn' t a shattered mess on the floor. But the tears betrayed me, spilling over and tracing hot paths down my cheeks.

Gloria reached out, her fingers brushing against my bandaged hand. "Then let him," she said, her voice surprisingly steady, though laced with a pain that ran bone-deep. "Let them both go. As soon as we can walk out of here, Char, we' re gone. We' ll file first."

I stared at her, at the raw determination solidifying in her gaze. It was a look I hadn' t seen in a long time. The old Gloria. The one who fought for what she wanted, before the Conrads had smoothed her edges and quieted her fire.

A choked sob escaped me, and I nodded. It was a release. A torrent of grief and rage and heartbreak I had been holding back since I woke up in this nightmare. I cried for my hands, for my lost music. I cried for Gloria, for her lost baby. I cried for the two naive girls we had been, who had truly believed they had found love.

We had been so blind.

The courtship had been a whirlwind. Kade and Carlisle Conrad were like princes from a storybook-handsome, powerful, charming. They had pursued us relentlessly, showering us with gifts and attention, making us feel like the only two women in the world. We fell, hard and fast.

The cracks started to show after Florence Acosta, their stepsister, came back into their lives. Her own marriage had imploded, and she had come running back to her adoring stepbrothers. Suddenly, our calls went unanswered. Date nights were canceled. Kade, who used to look at Gloria like she was the sun, barely seemed to notice her. And Carlisle... he started spending his nights out, coming home in the early hours smelling of whiskey and cheap perfume, his excuses flimsy and insulting.

We had thought it was just a phase, that they were distracted by Florence' s drama. We never imagined the truth was so much uglier. We weren't their loves. We were their pawns. A way to get back at Florence' s ex-husband, a business rival they despised. Marrying us, two celebrated and beloved figures in the city, was a public relations coup, a middle finger to their enemy.

All the whispered sweet nothings, the promises of forever... they were lies. Their hearts had always belonged to Florence. We were just living in her shadow, temporary occupants of a space that was always reserved for her.

The realization was a cold, hard stone in my gut. They hadn' t just neglected us. They had never cared at all.

"My hands, Glo," I whispered, the words tearing me apart. "They' re... they' re useless now. I' ll never play again."

Gloria squeezed my arm gently. "And I... the doctor said because of the damage... it' s unlikely I' ll ever be able to carry a child to term."

We looked at each other, the full, devastating scope of our losses settling upon us. We had given up everything for those men. For a lie.

And they had given us nothing but ruin in return.