My Husband’s Dirty Contract with His Best Friend - Chapter 5: Chapter 5

I woke up on the third morning.
The sterile scent of antiseptic hit me first. Blinking against the harsh fluorescent lights, I took in the stark white walls of the orthopedic hospital room. My leg was encased in a heavy cast, and an IV line snaked from my arm to a half-empty bag of fluids. Felix sat slumped in the chair beside me, his bloodshot eyes fixed on the drip like it held the answers to everything.
Why was he still here? After what he'd done—after handing me off like some disposable toy—he had the nerve to hover over me like a guilt-ridden saint.
I wanted to scream at him, to claw the exhaustion from his face. But the dark circles under his eyes, the way his shoulders sagged—he hadn't slept in days. And against my will, pity twisted in my chest.
Since when did I pity the man I was supposed to despise?
My throat burned as I forced out the words, "Get out. I don't want you here."
The second he heard my voice, Felix jolted upright. Before I could react, his arms were around me, crushing me against his chest. "Lillian—God, you're awake. Do you have any idea how terrified I've been?"
"Don't call me that," I spat, shoving him back. "It makes my skin crawl."
He flinched but didn't argue, letting his hands fall away.
Felix bowed his head, his voice raw. "I know what I did is unforgivable. But you're alive—that's all that matters to me now. Please. Give me a chance to make it right."
"I don't want your excuses. Just stop talking."
"We're done. I'm filing for divorce."
The words tasted bitter, even as I said them. A strange mix of fury and regret coiled inside me—but who was I even angry at? And what the hell was I regretting?
Felix's face paled. He dropped to his knees beside the bed, desperation cracking his voice. "Lillian, I swear to you—I lost my mind. I'll never hurt you again. Just don't leave me."
It hit me then—how dangerous desire could be. How easily pleasure could twist into something monstrous. And hadn't I played my part too?
I thought of the night I'd walked out on my father, his furious shouts ringing in my ears as I chose Felix over everything I'd ever known.
Now, the idea of cutting ties so abruptly made my chest ache.
So I caved. One last chance.
Time, they say, heals all wounds—even the ones that feel fatal.
For the next three months, Felix barely left my side. He tended to every need, every whim, as if his life depended on my forgiveness. And slowly, the pain in my heart dulled. Even the memory of that night began to blur at the edges.
We fell back into the rhythm of our early marriage—before the obsession, before the hunger took over. He was gentle again, attentive. The man I'd fallen for.
Watching him shoulder the company alone wore on me. Once my leg healed enough, I offered to help.
Felix hesitated—just for a second—before handing me control of the finances.
Just when I started to believe we could move on, my phone buzzed in the dead of night.
A WeChat notification.
From Bryce Evans.