Chapter 2 - The Man Who Stopped in the Storm
Ellie woke beneath white light.
For several seconds, she didn't know where she was.
Then she smelled antiseptic.
A monitor beeped beside her.
Her left shoulder was immobilized.
Bandages covered part of her cheek.
And a dark coat rested across the chair beside her hospital bed.
Adrian's coat.
Memory returned violently.
Philip.
The car.
The rain.
The fall.
Three black vehicles.
Adrian Moretti.
Ellie's heart rate accelerated.
A nurse entered.
“Mrs. Hughes?”
“Where am I?”
“St. Catherine's.”
“How long?”
“About six hours.”
Ellie looked toward the window.
Morning had turned Chicago gray.
“My husband?”
The nurse hesitated.
That hesitation told Ellie more than an answer would have.
“Has he been here?”
“No.”
Ellie closed her eyes.
She hated herself for feeling relieved.
The nurse checked her IV.
“You have a dislocated shoulder, two cracked ribs, bruising, and a facial laceration. The doctors want to keep you under observation.”
“Did someone call the police?”
Another hesitation.
“Yes.”
Panic replaced relief.
Ellie sat up too quickly.
Pain tore through her ribs.
“No.”
“Mrs. Hughes—”
“No police.”
“Someone assaulted you.”
“I fell.”
The nurse looked at her.
Ellie knew how ridiculous it sounded.
“I fell out of a car.”
“Were you pushed?”
Ellie stared at the blanket.
Before she could answer, voices came from the hallway.
One belonged to a man.
Low.
Calm.
Immediately recognizable.
Adrian.
Ellie's pulse increased again.
He entered alone.
He had changed clothes.
Black suit.
Black shirt.
No tie.
Without the rain and darkness, he looked even more intimidating.
But he stopped near the doorway rather than approaching her bed.
“You're awake.”
Ellie glanced toward the nurse.
“Could we have a minute?”
The nurse looked at Ellie, not Adrian.
That mattered.
Ellie nodded.
When they were alone, Adrian remained where he was.
“You brought me here?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“You needed a hospital.”
“No. Why did you stop?”
Adrian looked almost confused by the question.
“You were lying in the road.”
“Most people would've called an ambulance.”
“I did.”
“You stayed.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Adrian studied her.
“Does there need to be another reason?”
With Philip, there was always another reason.
Every gift had a price.
Every apology bought silence.
Every affectionate gesture became evidence later that she owed him forgiveness.
Ellie looked away.
“Where is Philip?”
“We know where he is.”
Her gaze snapped back.
“What does that mean?”
“It means he's alive.”
“That wasn't what I asked.”
A trace of something appeared in Adrian's expression.
Approval, perhaps.
“He went home.”
Ellie stared.
Home.
Their limestone townhouse in Lincoln Park.
Her clothes were there.
Her passport.
Her mother's jewelry.
Her laptop.
Her entire life.
“I need to go back.”
“No.”
The word came too quickly.
Ellie stiffened.
Adrian saw it.
His expression changed.
“Let me say that differently.”
She waited.
“I don't think returning there today is safe. But the decision is yours.”
That was different.
Philip issued commands.
Adrian offered information.
Ellie didn't know what to do with that.
“My things are there.”
“They can be collected.”
“By whom?”
“Anyone you choose.”
“I don't have anyone.”
The admission hurt more than she expected.
Philip had made sure of that too.
Friends became inconvenient.
Family members became judgmental.
Coworkers became jealous.
Slowly, almost invisibly, Ellie's world had shrunk until Philip occupied nearly all of it.
Adrian walked toward the window.
“Then choose me.”
Ellie laughed nervously.
“You?”
“Yes.”
“You're Adrian Moretti.”
“I am.”
“Do you know what people say about you?”
“Most of it.”
“And?”
“Some of it's true.”
That answer should have terrified her.
Instead, Ellie almost smiled.
Almost.
Then someone knocked.
A police detective entered.
“Mrs. Hughes? Detective Lena Morales.”
Ellie froze.
Morales noticed.
“I only need to ask a few questions.”
“I fell.”
The detective glanced at Adrian.
“Mr. Moretti's people say otherwise.”
Ellie looked at him.
“You told them?”
“I told them where we found you.”
“You had no right.”
“No,” Adrian said calmly. “I didn't tell them who hurt you.”
That stopped her.
Morales pulled out a chair.
“Mrs. Hughes, nobody is asking you to decide your entire future this morning. But photographs were taken of your injuries. That's important.”
Ellie's throat tightened.
“What happens if I tell you?”
“We document it. We investigate.”
“And Philip?”
“That depends on the evidence.”
Ellie almost laughed.
Evidence.
Philip was respected.
Connected.
Wealthy.
He would hire attorneys.
He would call her unstable.
Emotional.
Vindictive.
He had spent years preparing the world to believe him.
“I need time.”
Morales nodded.
“Take it.”
She placed a card on the bedside table.
When she left, Ellie stared at it.
Adrian remained silent.
Finally Ellie asked, “Why aren't you telling me what to do?”
“Would you listen?”
“No.”
“Then we're making progress.”
A small laugh escaped her before she could stop it.
It hurt her ribs.
“Ow.”
Adrian almost smiled.
For the first time, Ellie saw something beneath the reputation.
Not softness exactly.
But humanity.
Then Adrian's phone vibrated.
He looked at the screen.
His expression changed.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Don't do that.”
“Do what?”
“Decide what I can handle.”
Adrian stared at her.
Then he turned the phone around.
A photograph filled the screen.
Philip stood outside the hospital.
Beside him were two attorneys.
And three reporters.
Ellie's stomach dropped.
“He brought reporters?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Adrian's voice hardened.
“Because he's already telling them a story.”
“What story?”
Adrian didn't answer immediately.
He didn't need to.
Ellie knew.
Philip had reached the hospital not to apologize.
Not to see whether she was alive.
Not even to threaten her privately.
He had come to control what Chicago believed had happened before Ellie had the strength to tell anyone the truth.
A television mounted in the corner was muted.
Adrian picked up the remote.
“Are you sure?”
Ellie nodded.
He turned up the volume.
Philip appeared outside the hospital.
His expression was devastated.
Perfectly devastated.
“My wife has been struggling emotionally for some time,” he told reporters. “Last night, during an argument, she became distressed and left the vehicle.”
Ellie stopped breathing.
Philip continued.
“I tried to help her, but she refused. I love my wife. I just hope she accepts the help she needs.”
Ellie's hands began shaking.
He had done it.
He had abandoned her bleeding in the rain.
And now he was telling the city that she had done it to herself.
Adrian switched off the television.
Silence filled the room.
Ellie stared at the blank screen.
Then she looked at Detective Morales's card.
For years, Philip had counted on her silence.
This morning he had made one mistake.
He had mistaken silence for weakness.
Ellie reached for the card.
“Get the detective back.”
Adrian didn't move.
“Are you sure?”
Ellie looked directly at him.
“Yes.”
Her voice trembled.
But the next words didn't.
May you like
“I'm going to tell her everything.”
And across Chicago, Philip Hughes was smiling for cameras, completely unaware that his wife had finally stopped protecting him.
