Reborn Heiress: Escaping My Contract Marriage with the Cold CEO
Chapter 33: No Swimming in Sewage

Chapter 33: No Swimming in Sewage

VANESSA BELMONT

Spoiler alert: No one sedated me. The doctor gave me local anesthesia, but honestly, the bite and pull of the needle going in and out of my flesh still freaked me out.

Nathan let me squeeze his arm as hard as I wanted, and he didn’t even flinch when I dug my nails into his skin.

"Almost done, Mrs. Jang," the doctor murmured, tugging the thread through my skin like he was sewing a damn quilt. The doctor snipped the final thread and stepped back. "All set. You’ll need to keep it clean—"

"Yeah, yeah, no swimming in sewage. Got it." I swung my legs off the table, ignoring the way the room wobbled. "Let’s go see Carver."

"You should rest."

"Just let me see him, Nathan. He’s my friend." I stood—too fast—and my knees buckled. Nathan caught me. He stared into my eyes for a long moment.

Nathan turned to the doctor. "Take us to Haynes."

The doctor hesitated. "He’s in recovery. Family only—"

"I own this hospital," Nathan said, voice low.

The doctor swallowed. "Yes, sir."

The walk to Carver’s room felt like miles. Every step sent a fresh stab through my ribs, but I refused to slow down. Nathan stayed close, his hand hovering near my back like he expected me to collapse at any second.

The door to Carver’s room was half-open, machines beeping softly inside. My throat tightened.

I stepped in—and froze.

Carver was asleep. He was pale, too pale in my opinion. An IV tube snaked from his arm. But his pitiful appearance wasn’t what surprised me.

It was the woman sitting in the chair beside his bed.

"Claire?" I crossed my arms, yelped at the pain, and uncrossed my arms. Stupid stitches. "I thought you were dead."

"You wished I was dead." Carver’s ex-fiancée rolled her eyes. "Still crashing other people’s tragedies, I see."

"Excuse me, I was part of the tragedy." No, wait. That didn’t sound right. Whatever. "Why are you here?"

"Because my fiance got shot."

Nathan’s brows dipped and turned to stare at me. "He’s chasing you, and he’s married?"

"Nobody is married," I said. "Not us. Not them. To be fair, I didn’t know he had a fiance."

"I don’t." Carver groaned from the bed as his eyes opened. He pressed a hand to his bandaged abdomen. "It was a baby marriage arranged by our grandparents. She ended it years ago."

"That was a mistake."

"I thought so at the time, but now, I’m fine with it." His gaze went to me. "Vanessa."

"I’m here." I moved to the other side of the bed and clasped his hand. "How are you feeling?"

"Like I was in a car accident and then shot."

Nathan pulled our hands apart and moved me further from the bed. "He might not be engaged, but you are."

I showed him my left hand. "You didn’t put a ring on it."

"I put a signature on the contract," he said. "I’ll give you the ring. I’ll give you anything you want."

"Do you two need a room? I mean, a different room?" asked Claire. "One that I’m not in?"

"Or me," muttered Carter. "I don’t want to be in there, either."

Nathan’s grip on my waist tightened, his expression darkening as he glared at Carver. "You’re lucky you’re already in a hospital bed. Otherwise, I’d put you in one."

Carver smirked weakly, wincing as he shifted against the pillows. "Promises, promises."

Claire let out an exasperated sigh. "God, men are exhausting. Even half-dead, you’re still posturing." She stood, smoothing her skirt. "I’ll see you tomorrow."

"I’m sure you have better things to do," said Carver.

"I do not. Rest early." Claire strode out, heels clicking against the linoleum like gunfire.

The room fell into an awkward silence. Machines beeped. Nathan’s fingers tapped impatiently against my hip. Carver stared at the ceiling.

I cleared my throat. "So. You took a bullet for me."

Carver glanced at me. "I was trying to run away from the bullets."

The door swung open. Malone stepped in, his expression grim. "Sir, we found something."

Nathan took the file from him, flipping through the pages.

I leaned over. "What is it?"

He snapped the folder shut. His gaze locked onto mine. "Malone caught the kidnappers."

"Including that dick, Viktor?" I asked. "You’d recognize him by the hole I put into his leg."

"We got them all," confirmed Malone. "And we found out that Fiona Grand hired them to kidnap and kill you, Mrs. Jang."

"The Fiona Grand supposedly on her way to Paris?" I met Nathan’s gaze. "I get that she doesn’t like me, but murder?" No, wait. I did believe that because she’d already killed me. Stabbing me, making me get into my own car, and then ramming said car into the Sweetheart Oak was the very definition of murder.

"She didn’t make the flight," said Malone. "We tracked her movements and found CCTV footage. She went to a coffee shop and had a conversation with an unknown man. We’re working on finding out his identity."

Carver held up his hands—or tried to, before his IV tugged and he hissed in pain. "Look, I appreciate the bedside vigil, but you should go rest. You look like hell."

"Gee, thanks," I said.

Nathan steered me toward the door before I could protest. "He’s right. You should rest."

"I hate when people are right," I grumbled.

As we stepped into the hallway, I glanced back at Carver. His eyes were already closing, exhaustion pulling him under. Guilt gnawed at me. He shouldn’t have been here. None of this should have happened.

Nathan’s hand slid down to lace his fingers with mine. "Stop blaming yourself."

"I’m not."

"You’re terrible at lying."

I scowled. "And you’re terrible at minding your own business."

He tugged me closer, his voice dropping to a murmur. "You are my business."

I opened my mouth to retort—then winced as my ribs protested. Nathan swept me up into his arms.

"I can walk!"

"Barely."

I huffed, but honestly? The world was spinning less now that I wasn’t putting weight on my own feet. My ribs were still mad, but at least I didn’t feel like taking a nap on the floor. Fine. Let him play the hero.

As he carried me down the hall, nurses and orderlies gawked. Nathan ignored them all.

"You’re causing a scene," I muttered.

"So what?"

I rolled my eyes, but ... I liked it. The possessiveness. The certainty. The way he didn’t care who watched.

Malone and four other bodyguards followed us out of the hospital and to the Maybachs waiting for us. Nathan put me into the back seat, and then got in on the other side.

"Where are we going?"

"The Civil Registration Bureau."

"What? Why?"

"We’re getting officially married."