The hospital room was white and sterile, smelling of antiseptic and despair. Julian lay in the bed, an IV in his arm, monitors beeping rhythmically beside him. He looked pale, his dark lashes casting shadows against his cheeks. He looked younger when he slept. Less like a monster, more like a fallen angel.
Elena sat in the chair beside the bed, holding his hand. She had been there for two days. The police had cleared him of all charges. Veronica and the detective were in custody, facing a laundry list of charges including conspiracy to commit murder, fraud, and corruption. Vivian’s body had been identified, and the autopsy confirmed the self-inflicted stab wound and the presence of the poison in her system—a poison Veronica had been supplying her.
It was over. But the damage was done.
J
