CHAPTER 2 — THE HOSPITAL ROOM
CHAPTER 2 — THE HOSPITAL ROOM
The first thing Grace heard after waking up was not her father's voice.
It was the steady rhythm of a heart monitor.
Beep.
Beep.
Beep.
Every pulse reminded her that she had survived.
Unfortunately.
"...possible nerve damage to the left leg."
"...multiple fractures."
"...she's lucky they got her out when they did."
The voices drifted through the fog before her eyes finally opened.
White ceiling.
Bright lights.
The sharp smell of disinfectant.
A hospital room.
Grace tried to move.
Pain exploded through her entire body.
A gasp escaped her lips.
"Easy," a nurse said softly, rushing to her bedside. "You're awake."
Grace swallowed painfully.
"My... sister?"
The nurse smiled.
"She's stable."
Grace closed her eyes in relief.
Then another question escaped before she could stop it.
"My dad?"
The nurse hesitated.
That tiny pause told Grace everything.
"He... came earlier."
Hope flickered inside her.
"Is he... outside?"
The nurse looked down.
"He stayed with your sister."
The hope disappeared.
Three hours later, Grace finally saw him.
Richard Bennett walked into the room carrying flowers.
Not for her.
He set the bouquet on the windowsill without looking at her.
"They accidentally sent these here," he muttered. "They're Olivia's."
He reached for the vase.
Grace stared.
Even now...
Even after everything...
He hadn't brought her a single flower.
"You heard me."
Her voice was barely a whisper.
Richard froze.
"The accident."
"You said I wasn't important."
Silence.
Then he sighed impatiently.
"You were unconscious."
"I wasn't."
"You imagined it."
"I heard every word."
His face hardened.
"You always were dramatic, Grace."
The words struck harder than the crash itself.
"You should be grateful you're alive."
Grateful.
Grace looked down at the metal brace wrapped around her leg.
"I might never walk normally again."
Richard shrugged.
"The doctors don't know that yet."
Then his attention shifted toward her backpack sitting beside the hospital chair.
Unzipped.
Empty.
His eyes narrowed.
"Where's the envelope?"
Grace's heart skipped.
So that was why he came.
Not because she survived.
Not because she was his daughter.
Because of the envelope.
"I don't know."
"Don't lie."
His voice became dangerously quiet.
"The bank called this morning."
Grace felt ice crawl through her veins.
"You opened my mail."
"I had every right."
"It was addressed to me."
"I pay for this family!"
"No," Grace whispered.
"I do."
The room fell silent.
Richard's jaw tightened.
"What did you do with the money?"
Grace blinked.
"What money?"
"The forty-eight thousand dollars."
Her breath caught.
Forty-eight thousand?
She had no idea what he was talking about.
"My scholarship wasn't worth—"
"It's not the scholarship!"
He slammed his hand against the bedrail.
"The insurance settlement."
Grace frowned.
"What insurance settlement?"
Richard stopped.
Too late.
The color drained from his face.
He had said something he never intended her to know.
Grace stared at him.
"What settlement?"
He looked away.
"Nothing."
"What settlement, Dad?"
"There isn't one."
"You just said—"
"I said nothing."
For years, Grace had believed there had never been enough money after her mother's death.
That was why she worked two jobs.
That was why she gave up Boston University.
That was why every birthday passed without presents.
That was why the electricity had been shut off twice.
That was why she skipped meals so Olivia could eat.
Now...
A settlement?
From her mother's death?
"How much?"
Richard didn't answer.
"How much did they pay?"
His silence was answer enough.
Grace felt sick.
"You used it."
"No."
"You spent it."
"I invested it."
"On what?"
He snapped.
"Your sister!"
The words echoed through the room.
"I had to protect Olivia's future!"
Grace stared.
"And mine?"
He laughed bitterly.
"You've always managed."
Those six words shattered twenty-three years of hope.
You've always managed.
Managed without birthday gifts.
Managed without college.
Managed without love.
Managed without a father.
A knock interrupted them.
A police officer stepped inside.
"Mr. Bennett?"
Richard turned.
"We need another statement regarding the accident."
His expression instantly changed into that of a grieving, exhausted father.
"Of course, Officer."
The officer opened a notebook.
"We've completed the preliminary inspection of the vehicle."
Grace watched carefully.
"There appears to have been damage to the brake line before the collision."
Richard's shoulders stiffened.
"What?"
"It wasn't caused by the impact."
The officer continued.
"Someone cut it."
The room became perfectly still.
Grace slowly turned toward her father.
His face had gone completely white.
Not shocked.
Terrified.
The officer didn't notice.
"We'll need to inspect everyone who had access to the vehicle."
Grace remembered the strange smell.
The engine sputtering.
Olivia whispering—
"I only told him because I thought he already knew."
Her heartbeat quickened.
The envelope.
The insurance money.
The lies.
The brake line.
Suddenly, the accident no longer felt like an accident.
And when Grace looked at her father, she realized something that frightened her more than the crash itself.
May you like
He wasn't afraid that someone had tried to kill them.
He was afraid the police would discover who had.
