If You Fight(2)

So that's how he planned to play it. Would he say it was an accident that caused me to fall down a flight of stairs in my own home while he was there? Or would he claim complete ignorance and continue with the desperately concerned husband act?

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Ryder react to Oliver's words, his eyes opening wide and filling with anger. My father watched Oliver carefully, hanging on every word he said like he wasn't sure if his son-in-law had been involved in hurting me.

I opened my mouth to speak but only got a few words out before the pain in my throat from being choked made talking almost unbearable. Clutching my neck, I mouthed, "It hurts to speak."

Like the dutiful husband, Oliver gently patted my leg and said, "You don't have to say anything, Serena. There's time for that later. Now you just need to rest."

I saw in his eyes the terrible fear that I would start talking and tell anyone who'd listen exactly who'd done this to me. But I had other plans for my dear husband.

Forcing the words out, I whispered, "No, I want to speak. It's important to me that I tell my father what happened before I forget the details."

Oliver protested my attempts to speak. "You need to rest. We can do this later. Rest now."

But my father wasn't interested in his idea of my resting. Eager to know who had done this to me, he stepped toward the bed and asked, "Do you remember what happened, Serena?"




 

 

In that moment, it felt like time stopped as I looked from my father to Oliver and then to Ryder. Only I knew what had happened and who had attacked me, and each man waited to hear my answer. I held Oliver's entire future in my hands, and for the first time in my life, the feeling of real power rushed through me.

It would be nothing to tell the truth about what he'd done. He wouldn't make it out of my hospital room before Ryder jumped him, and I sensed that my father already had his suspicions and likely wouldn't have stopped his employee from exacting his revenge.

Oliver would be arrested and out of my life as he sat in prison for attempted murder. I'd get what I wanted and have my freedom. My father probably wouldn't even give me a hard time about divorcing the son of a bitch.

But as that scenario played out in my head, I knew that would be too easy for him. He might get himself a good lawyer and never spend a day in jail. He might contest the divorce and keep me tied to him for years, and if my father wanted me to stay married to the bastard, then where would I be?

No freedom. Same trapped existence.

No, that wouldn't do. I couldn't let that happen.

Reaching out for my father's hand, I took a deep breath and made the decision to use the power I finally had. "It was an intruder, Daddy. He broke into the house and attacked me. He wanted to kill me."

With those words, I set into motion my plan for freedom.

A look of true concern settled into my father's features, drawing his mouth into a deep frown. "You're lucky you're alive then. But why would an intruder attack you?"

Knowing my father had doubts why anyone would want to hurt me, especially some unknown assailant, I croaked out, "I think he was looking for Oliver but I happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time."

And with that, the lie made sense. While I, a simple woman who rarely even left the estate, would be an unlikely target for an attacker, Oliver certainly could be. A businessman, he made enemies every day.

Or at least my father would think that since he made enemies all the time through the course of his wheeling and dealing. I may never have had much of a head for business, but I paid attention whenever I could to what my father said about running his companies.

Turning toward Oliver, my father said, "Who would want you dead? We need to figure that out to find out who was behind this."

In a flash, the dutiful, concerned husband morphed into the outraged husband. Flailing his hands, he said, "It's outrageous! I demand the security be improved at the estate. My wife and I have lost something precious today. This can't be allowed!"

From behind my father, Ryder said in a flat voice devoid of emotion, "The security cameras will show us exactly who the attacker was, Robert." 

Oliver immediately grew flustered at the thought that he'd been caught by none other than the man he'd ordered out of my hospital room. "Is he saying you have security cameras in our apartment? Why wasn't I told about this? Why have you been watching us?"

"No, no, there are no cameras in any of the apartments, Oliver," my father answered as he tried to ease his troubled mind about being spied on in his own home. "The security cameras are on the outside around the estate. But Ryder's right. We'll be able to see anyone who left the area near your apartment in the past twenty-four hours, so rest assured, we'll know who did this. Don't worry about that."