Page 157 of Saved By My Buyers

“Oh, one more thing,” Greg says. “I went to the mansion and destroyed every single file with Dahlia in his computer, phone, and back up hard drives in his safe. I also fired all of his staff, but the chef insisted that he needed to speak to Bronwyn and Dahlia.”

“If I forget this, you’re responsible for telling me again,” I mumble. “The shit with the chef, the drive erasure, I’ll remember.”

“Good night, old man,” Greg snorts, leaving me to sleep.

It's been a long two days.

Bronwyn

My body feels incredibly warm, which is a pleasant surprise. I’ve been so cold, the hospital staff had to work to get my temperature to a healthier one. I got a shower, help brushing my teeth, and now I feel a little more human. Keeping my body still, I bask in the feeling. If I move too much, my ribs will remind me of how badly they’re bruised.

I’ll need so much therapy after this, but I don’t know if patricide is covered by doctor-patient confidentiality.

“You’re thinking too hard, Bee,” Jack rumbles, his lips by my ear. “Tell me?”

“Therapy,” I mumble, yawning as I blink to clear the sleep from my eyes. It pulls at my ribs, a sharp pain that makes me bite back a whimper. Fuck, I’ll do anything to keep that from happening again.

Holy shit.

“I was thinking about how I need to change therapists, but I have no idea who I can talk about what happened to. Then, I started thinking about patricide and if that was covered by doctor-patient confidentiality. I concluded it probably doesn’t.”

“Definitely not, beautiful. I’ll get a few names of therapists that work with people who color outside of the lines of the law,” Jack says.

“That’s the sweetest way you’ve ever told me you’d take care of things,” I tell him, smirking.

“It’s what I do,” he says smugly. “Should I go wake up our girl?”

Turning my head slowly, I see her eyelashes are already fluttering.

“Dahlia,” I say softly, happy when I see her large caramel eyes. The gray contacts were taken out during triage, and I’m so glad. “Hey, pretty girl.”

“Hi,” she croaks out. “Can we go home now?”

A knock on the door makes us pay attention as a doctor eases inside. “Did I hear someone ask if they could go home?” he asks.

“I want my bed,” Dahlia says, pouting.

Chuckling, the doctor nods understandingly. “Tomorrow I think we’ll be able to release you,” he says. “The frostbite was mild, and it’ll heal on its own. Try to stay inside, or bundle up very well. It’s the concussions and bruised and broken ribs I’m concerned about. I want to keep you in observation for a bit, but now that you’re awake, I’d like to suggest that you eat.”

“Sleepy heads,” Jack teases, not bothering to sit up.

“Soon, you’ll be able to go home, though. I promise,” the doctor says, smiling as he checks in about other things before leaving.

“What have we missed, Jack?” Dahlia asks, her voice raspy and tired.

Being strangled will do that to a girl, and I feel the same way.

“Arina is going to prison for a long damn time, courtesy of Greg working the system,” Jack begins. He tells us everything that we’ve missed, including Ciara recovering in this hospital and Greg finding any videos of Dahlia in Gareth’s possession and destroying them.

“The bitch deserved it,” Dahlia mutters. I don’t feel bad for Arina either.

“God, I think I missed work today,” I groan.

“I’ll handle that,” Jack murmurs, brushing his lips along my temple. “Be right back.”

Jack stands, leaving the room to call my bosses, and I struggle not to sigh. I hate missing work, but it’s not like I’ll be able to help anyone today.

“Bee?” Dahlia says softly. Turning my head, I smile gently at her. She’s been through hell and back, but she still keeps kicking. “Do you wish we hadn’t? Killed Gareth, I mean?”

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