50 

Chapter 89 

Gabriel 

Beep…beep…beep…beep. 

Violet’s heartbeat monitor sounds softly through the darkened room, and I sit beside her with mine in my throat. 

they hooked me up to the machine, I’m not sure my heart would sound so steady. 

She has a tube and pipes coming out of her and two black eyes, the lump on the front of her forehead so big and already purple. 

Violet fell down twenty–two concrete steps tonight…running from me. 

She has a badly broken wrist that needs surgery, perhaps also her ankle, although it’s too swollen to tell at this stage, but it’s her head that they’re worried about. 

She was knocked out cold, the swelling on her brain so bad that they had to put her into an induced coma. 

What if she has a critical brain injury and never recovers? 

It’s 3 a.m., and intensive care is a lonely place where people are fighting to survive, not only the ones in the beds, the people sitting beside them are fighting too. 

For me…it’s demons. 

“Instead of you sticking my cock up my ass…I’m going to stick it up theirs, and they’ll moan on every fucking inch of it.” I’m filled with disgust. 

What is wrong with me. If I hadn’t chased her…she wouldn’t have slipped. 

My phone lights up. 

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Graham Messing 

Ahh, the neurosurgeon who I got to look at her scans. 

“Hello.” 

“Hi, is that Gabriel?” 

“Yes.” 

“This is Graham Messing. Sorry I took so long to get back to you. I’ve just gotten out of 

surgery.” 

“It’s okay,” I stammer. “Did you look at the scans?” 

“Yeah, I did. She’s taken a nasty hit.” 

I close my eyes as I wait for his next comment. 

“Look, as far as I can see, what the local doctors there are telling you is on the money.” 

I listen intently. 

“There’s substantial swelling, but it appears that she hasn’t suffered a subarachnoid hemorrhage or a stroke. Her brain activity is normal.” 

“What does that mean?” 

“It means that at this stage, all signs point to the fact that there appears to be no significant long–term damage. However, as you know, she didn’t respond to the medication last night, and as there was no evidence of a bleed, the doctors chose to put her into an induced coma. All brains recover differently, and given the information the doctors had at hand, I believe 

they did the right thing.” 

“Why hasn’t she woken up yet?” 

“It takes time. I’ll call her doctor and suggest that they start to reduce the coma induction in another six to eight hours. We need that swelling to go down to give her the best chance.” 

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“Okay.” I swallow the lump in my throat. “What about her ankle and wrist?” 

Don’t worry about them, she’s not moving, so she can’t do more damage there. They both pale in comparison to a brain injury. That is our only concern at this stage.” 

“Right.” 

“She’s in no immediate danger and in good hands. The induced coma is giving her time to 

rest and heal, but as you know, every case is different, so the times and outcomes will vary.” 

I nod as I try to process what he’s telling me. “Okay.” 

“I’ll check back in with you in the morning. I suggest you go home and get some sleep.” 

“Okay, thank you, Doctor.” I hang on the line for a beat. “I appreciate you looking over things for me.” 

“Speak tomorrow.” He hangs up, and I immediately text Debbie. 

Hi Debbie, 

the specialist neurosurgeon just called. 

He confirmed what the doctors here said, she hasn’t had a bleed on her brain and activity 

looks normal. 

He thinks once the swelling goes down she will be okay. 

A message bounces straight in. 

Thank god Why isn’t she awake then? 

I reply. 

He said that the induced coma gives her brain a chance to rest and recover. 

That they will reduce it in the morning. 

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A 

apter & 

watch the dots as she types. 

Fingers crossed 

I reply. 

Are the kids okay? 

Yes, sleeping sound. 

I’m glad they didn’t see her after the fall. 

Me too. 

Thanks so much for having them. 

I’ll call you as soon as I know something. 

Try and get some sleep 

Xox 

I let out a low, steadying breath as I stare at my love. 

I brush her hair back from her forehead. Her bruised and beaten–up face feels so broken. 

Did she hit every fucking step on the way down? 

She must have. 

“When 

you wake up, I’m going to kill you for being so clumsy,” I whisper. “You didn’t have to be all dramatic and throw yourself down the stairs to get out of an argument.” I keep 

stroking her hair. “We both know you would have won, anyway.” Beep…beep…beep…beep. 

Her silhouette blurs. “Please wake up.” 

“What’s wrong with my hand?” a sleepy voice whispers. 

The Perfect Husband’s Secret