Page 133 of Heart of The Night

‘That monster should remain behind bars,’ I said, my voice taut with hatred. ‘Ideally for the rest of his life.’

William was quiet for a moment, his gaze veering to his lap, his face clouded with thought. ‘They mentioned he’s likely to plead guilty.’

‘Is he?’ My lips parted with shock, my eyes widening. A guilty plea? Really? Oliver wouldn’t even try to pin the blame on William? My thoughts whirled. A guilty plea often led to a reduced sentence. Could that be his angle? But with William currently unable to recall the exact events, why would Oliver simply surrender without contesting the prosecution’s claims? Was it out of guilt? Did he regret his actions?

William gave me a quick glance, knitting a brow. ‘I’ve been trying to understand why. Perhaps he hopes it will soften his sentence, or perhaps the evidence against him is just that strong. They should have prints on the knife, for example…’

‘Regardless his reasons, a guilty plea means the court proceedings could be swift.’

‘Yes. But, as I’m sure you’re aware, GBH with intent is an indictable-only offence, meaning the magistrates’ court must refer the case to the Crown Court for trial and sentencing. So, even with a plea, we’re looking at a few months before it’s all settled.’

I huffed, feeling impatience settle in my bones like a persistent ache. ‘Well, then you’ll have more time to optimise your victim personal statement, so perhaps his sentence won’t be reduced in the end.’

He gave a faint nod. ‘Yeah.’

I put my hand over his again, the warmth of his skin a small comfort. ‘Did the detectives mention having talked to Francesca?’

Anger distorted his features, curving his brows and lips. ‘Yeah, they spoke with her last night.’

‘And?’

His jaw clenched, the lines on his forehead deepening. ‘And she admitted she lied to me about their relationship. She broke up with Oliver about two weeks ago – around the time I told her about you and me, after you answered my phone when she called. She was so torn up over it that she couldn’t keep it from Oliver. When he pressed her, she confessed to the affair. Oliver tried to reconcile, but she didn’t want to. She ended it, telling him the child likely isn’t even his.’

I felt a chill as he spoke, and my stomach twisted. I exhaled slowly, processing everything. I tried to imagine Oliver’s pain – the person he loved, the family he thought he was building, all crumbling suddenly.

William continued, his voice a tangle of sadness and disbelief, ‘Oliver told the detectives how much he’d been looking forward to fatherhood. Finding out about the affair and the possibility that the child isn’t his… It shattered him. He said it felt like losing not just the love of his life but also his child and his dreams of a family.’

I looked at William, my heart heavy yet firm. ‘It’s heartbreaking, yes, but it doesn’t excuse his actions. Pain doesn’t justify what he did to you.’

‘That’s another thing that puzzles me,’ William murmured, rubbing his temple. ‘Did he confront me before he attacked? I don’t remember, but I know I would have explained I had no idea about them. I would have apologised. And yet, he still attacked…’

‘The kind of rage he showed doesn’t suggest rational thinking,’ I countered gently. ‘Even if you had the chance to explain, it might not have mattered to him. His actions were clearly fuelled by jealousy, possibly even a desire for revenge, thinking you were the reason everything fell apart.’

William gave a slow nod, his gaze distant. ‘He didn’t even expect to see me there. He said when he did, all his pent-up emotions just erupted. He’d had a few drinks, which likely stripped away any restraint he might have had.’

I felt a painful ache in my throat, my chest simmering with a brew of different emotions – sadness, regret, fear. I couldn’t help thinking that if John had attended as he was meant to, or if Jason had gone instead, this could all have been avoided.

Before I could respond, the door clicked softly open. A nurse with a clipboard under her arm stepped in, her presence breaking the intimate bubble that had formed around William and me.

‘Good morning,’ she greeted warmly. ‘I’m sorry to interrupt, but it’s time for a quick check-up.’

William gave me a small nod, his expression shifting to one of patient acceptance as the nurse approached his bedside, beginning her routine checks.

‘How are you feeling?’ she asked, her pen poised to note down his answers.

‘Everything hurts,’ he said plainly.

‘What hurts the most, would you say?’

‘My head and my arm.’

She asked a few more questions, then said, ‘I’ll apply another ice pack for the swelling and administer some pain relief. We want to keep you as comfortable as possible.’ Her honey-coloured eyes flickered in my direction, as if to warn me that the medication might soon make him drowsy.

‘Sounds good, thank you,’ William murmured, managing a weak smile.

As the nurse prepared the ice pack and the medication, I remained by William’s side, holding his hand. The nurse skilfully administered the pain relief through the IV, then carefully placed the ice pack over William’s severely bruised eye, adjusting it to ensure it was both effective and comfortable.

‘Is that better?’ she asked, studying William’s features.

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