Janet’s POV
Leaning against the wall for support, I managed to call room service. “Executive floor, room 219. I think I have a sprained ankle, it’s really painful.”
Before I could hear a response, I hung up, the pain radiating through my body, intensified by the image of Rowan and Flora.
I had seen how women flocked to Rowan, eager for his attention, only to be met with his usual indifference. I thought he was ruthless with all of them—but seeing him rush off with Flora changed everything.
Minutes later, I was wheeled into the nearest hospital.
The hospital smelled of antiseptic, sharp and cold, and the sound of muffled voices filled the air. I limped to the receptionist’s desk, every step sending pain shooting up my leg.
But my ankle wasn’t the worst of it. My chest felt like it was being squeezed, like the weight of everything was crushing me.
I saw him.
Rowan.
He was standing outside Flora’s room, his hand resting on the doorframe. His head was down, but when he looked up, his eyes met mine.
Before I could process it, he grabbed my arm, his grip tight, and yanked me away.
“Rowan, my ankle!” I winced, stumbling with the pain, but he didn’t stop until we were in the hallway. He released my arm suddenly, and I leaned against the wall for support.
“What were you thinking coming in there? Do you still want to hurt her?” the veins of his neck popped out as he whisper-shouted.
I stared back at the man who had now become more of a stranger to me. “You think I’ll get someone injured on purpose? Really, Rowan? Look at me. My ankle was hurt! Or does that not matter anymore? What has come over you?”
His jaw clenched, his voice turning colder. “Let me see your ankle. Does it really hurt, or is this just another act to prove Flora wrong?”
Tears pricked my eyes at his accusation. “You think I’m pretending?” My voice cracked. “Why would I do that?”
“Because of some stupid trip we didn’t take? You’ve been taking your frustrations out on her!” His tone raised, sharp and biting. “I told you I’d make it up to you. Can’t you stop making scenes? Stop with the petty jealousy?”
Before I could respond, Flora’s voice called out, “Rowan? Can you check my arm? I think it’s broken again.”
Rowan turned, but I grabbed his arm, my voice desperate. “Rowan… please, just this once, stay with me. My foot really hurts. Please.”
He glanced back at me, his eyes cold and distant. “Stop pretending, Janet. Go home and rest. You look like a mess.”
I felt my breath catch as he pulled away and walked back into Flora’s room, leaving me standing there, tears streaming down my face.
Leaning against the wall for support, my legs wobbled beneath me. Anger, heartbreak—they crashed over me in waves. My heart felt heavy, my throat tight.
Why, Rowan? Why are you doing this?
I tried to take a step, but the pain in my ankle made me wince. My body screamed for me to stop, but my heart screamed louder.
