Total pages in book: 47
Estimated words: 47525 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 238(@200wpm)___ 190(@250wpm)___ 158(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 47525 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 238(@200wpm)___ 190(@250wpm)___ 158(@300wpm)
“Is being under that long even legal?”
She gives me an “of course not” look, but she doesn’t dare say the words.
“Someone will bring your breakfast tray soon,” she continues, adjusting the machine beside me. “I suggest staying in this bed unless you’re using the restroom.”
“What about taking a bath or shower?”
“You can take a bath.” She flashes a brief smile. “But a quick one. Try not to get the drip machine wet.”
“I won’t.”
“Oh,” she adds, reaching into her bag. “Dr. Weiss wanted me to give you this.”
She sets a thick hardback copy of The Count of Monte Cristo onto my mattress. A special collector’s edition with sprayed edges and glittered embellishments.
“He said chapter seven is his favorite.”
“Noted…”
She finishes securing the IV and slips out just as the roaming camera hums into view. It circles once, clicks, then glides off toward the kitchen for its morning loop.
I wait for thirty seconds, then another minute, wanting to make sure I’m alone.
Then I crack open the book to chapter seven and scan the lines slowly, deliberately, waiting for his usual pattern to emerge.
My personal cell phone is under a towel in your bathroom.
I downloaded Dateline for you to watch.
Use the headphones I gave you so no one will hear…
My pulse skips a beat.
I close the book gently, then turn my head toward the bathroom.
The IV machine beeps once, low and steady, reminding me I’m still tethered. Still under observation.
But not entirely powerless.
Not today.
28
DR. WEISS
Day Ten
I’m seconds away from committing a double homicide.
It would be quick, painless, and unlike most murderers, I’d clean up my tracks.
Robin and Sheldon are in my bedroom, talking over me like I’m background noise. They’ve yet to realize that they’re not saying anything new.
Please shut the hell up.
“There was plenty of other DNA at the crime scene,” Robin says, like she hasn’t already said it fifteen times.
“We’ve always known that,” Sheldon replies, not helping his case. “But the labs didn’t bother testing it all. The narrative was too neat. All fingers pointed to Sadie.”
“Who do they point to now?”
“I don’t know. But between that and the… potential rape…”
“Potential rape?” My voice cuts through the room like a blade. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing.” Robin glances at me with a shrug, like she’s deciding whether it’s worth pretending to care. “I’m not condoning murder, but if I were her lawyer? I would’ve used that. Want to join us?”
“No.” I can’t stand to be near either of them. “Can you two please give me my suite for the next two hours? I’d like to shower without an audience.”
They roll their eyes in unison, grab their coffees, and head to the conference room down the hall.
They’re still too close for me to feel peace, still not far away enough for me to feel comfortable going to Sadie.
I strip and step into the shower, turning the dial all the way to cold. The icy water slaps against my skin, a temporary cleanse.
I shut my eyes.
The door creaks open.
Jesus Christ. “I said I wanted two hours—”
“Why haven’t you asked about me?” Sadie’s voice.
I turn the water off and snap my eyes open. She’s standing in the doorway, eyes burning with something between hurt and defiance.
“Go back to your side of the cabin,” I say, grabbing a towel.
“Not until you answer me.” Her voice is low, trembling. “You haven’t asked me anything about how I felt during the truth sessions—nothing about the awful and nearly exposing questions from Robin.”
“You honestly think I knew she was going to ask those?”
“You haven’t held a real session with me since she and Sheldon showed up here either.” She adds another grievance. “You won’t even look at me.”
“You’re exaggerating, Sadie. We’ve had our daily sessions.”
“They’ve been five-minute scripts.” She steps closer. “You’re just checking a box. Making me write meaningless ‘then’ pages. You’re not really here.”
“Miss Pretty—”
“Fuck you, Ethan.” Her voice sharpens. “Don’t you dare ‘Miss Pretty’ me. Don’t you ever—”
“What?” I pin her against the glass. “Don’t I ever what?”
Her lips part, but no sound escapes.
“Say it,” I murmur. “Don’t I ever what?”
She swallows. Her voice is barely audible.
“What do you want me to do?” I press closer. “Fuck you in front of everyone? Let them watch while I bend you over the boardroom table?”
Her breath catches.
“A part of me thinks you’d love that,” I whisper. “But we can’t.”
“Ever?”
“Go back to your side of the cabin.”
“After you kiss me.” Her voice is soft. Barely a plea. “Just once.”
I shouldn't.
But I do.
I cup her face and kiss her hard, backing her into the wall. Her mouth opens for me instantly, her tongue teasing mine, demanding more. I kiss her until she’s breathless—until I’m out of reasons not to.
By the time I pull away, my hands are already under her shorts. I push her panties to the side and slide two fingers across her slick heat.