Page 77 of Shadows of Recovery

He picked up the phone and dialed Charlotte Everhart's number. "Charlotte, it's Tristan. We have a situation with Sophie. She had an emotional break and hurt herself."

There was a pause on the other end before Charlotte's voice, filled with a mix of worry and anger, responded, "How is she now?"

"She’s stable. We had to sedate her—she was in a lot of distress.”

Charlotte sighed, her voice trembling slightly. "I’ll be there as soon as I can. Sophie needs us both right now.”

"Thank you, Charlotte. I appreciate it. We’ll be waiting for you." Tristan would tell her about Kay in person.

After hanging up, he sat back in his chair, exhaustion washing over him. He hoped now that Kay was gone, and with Charlotte’s help, they could finally start to heal the wounds and protect Sophie from any further harm.

As he walked back to where Sophie rested, her fragile form a stark reminder of the ordeal she had endured, Tristan’s heart clenched. He made the right call to fire Kay, to remove the threat, but it didn’t erase the fact that he allowed it to get this far in the first place.

Reaching Sophie’s side, he paused, watching the gentle rise and fall of her chest as she slept. The sight filled him with a mixture of relief and sorrow. He had done everything he could to protect her, but it hadn’t been enough.

“I’m so sorry, Sophie,” he whispered. “I should have done better. I should have seen this coming. Maybe someday you can forgive me for not protecting you better.”

Tristan could only hope that time would bring healing, not just for Sophie, but for his own heart as well. He had to believe he could make things right, that he could protect her in the way she deserved. It was all he could hold on to now.

Tristan found Chris writing a detailed note and a couple of nurses cleaning her body and hair of her blood.

Chris approached Tristan, his expression serious. "I’ve put everything in place. She won’t be left alone, and when she’s awake, we’re increasing her therapy sessions. The psych hold will give us time to stabilize her. By then we will know what Charlotte wants to do. Be prepared, she may want to move her to another facility."

Tristan nodded, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Thank you, Chris. I trust you to take care of her. I terminated Kay. I’ll file the report to the Board of Directors. I would like you to file the malpractice report to the medical board.”

Chris gave a solemn nod. "I’ll do what’s necessary, Tristan."

* * *

Tristan watchedover the sedated Sophie, his eyes never leaving her pale face. The fresh, clean room around them was a stark reminder of the trauma that had unfolded just hours earlier. Maintenance people were tackling the blood that coated the walls and floor in her previous room, a grotesque testament to her desperate struggle. The sight pulled him back to another dark time, years earlier, when he received the devastating news of his wife’s death.

He remembered the day vividly. His commanding officer and a lieutenant had found him in his tent, their expressions grave. They told him his wife had been found in their home, wrists slit, in the bathtub. He had been deployed, unaware of the nightmare she was living. He didn’t know she had been raped. He wasn’t there for her when she needed him the most. The guilt and sorrow from that day still haunted him, a wound that had never fully healed.

Seeing the beautiful room created for Sophie blood-soaked, those old feelings of helplessness and despair came rushing back. Sophie had been assaulted too, and this time, he was determined to be there for her. But Kay—damn her jealousy—had made things infinitely worse. Tristan guessed it was Kay’s jealousy that drove her to leave Sophie’s chart where she could find it. How could she have been so reckless, so cruel?

He couldn’t imagine the torment Sophie had gone through reading the clinical details of her own assault. His gut burned with anger and regret.

Tristan spent the next few hours speaking with her medical team. He hated stepping into the background, but he was her boyfriend and could not be her doctor.

Sam Harris ordered a blood transfusion to replace what she had lost. Tristan checked in with the nurses regularly, staying by Sophie’s side whenever he could. He had the Institute to run, but he needed to be there when she woke up, to explain, to apologize, to try and make her understand that he would do everything in his power to help her heal.

Chris returned to her room, looked at Sophie, then back at Tristan. “The sedation will keep her resting, and we’ll monitor her closely over the next few days. When she wakes up, we’ll begin a thorough assessment. We need to understand the full extent of her new emotional trauma.”

Tristan nodded. “I appreciate your help. Institute-wide, we need to make sure this never happens again.”

Chris gave him a sympathetic look. “We will, Tristan. Now you need to take care of yourself too. This is hard on everyone. James has offered to help with the Institute load.”

As the hours passed, Tristan remained a constant presence in Sophie’s room. He watched her sleep. He thought about her and Mimi, about the promises he had made to both women and broken. When Charlotte arrived, he would face her anger and disappointment. But he couldn’t give up. Sophie needed him now more than ever, and he was determined to be the support she needed.

The next three days would be critical. Tristan steeled himself for the challenges ahead, knowing he had to stay strong for Sophie, for Charlotte, and for himself. He would find a way to make things right. He had to.

Twenty-Nine

The sedation that had kept Sophie asleep was beginning to wear off. Slowly, her eyes fluttered open, revealing a dark and stormy expression of confusion, Tristan, who had been keeping vigil by her bedside, greeted her with a soft smile.

"Sophie," he whispered softly, his voice trembling with emotion.

But the memories of what happened crashed down on her like a tidal wave. Her eyes widened with terror, and she began to tremble. The trauma was the only thing she could focus on, the only thing she could grasp. Panic overtook her, and she tried to throw herself out of the bed, her movements frantic and desperate.

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