3/3
Broken Bonds
(Olivia’s POV)
The harsh fluorescent lights of the hospital ceiling came into focus as I blinked away the darkness. My head throbbed with a dull pain as I tried to push myself up on my elbows. I felt disoriented, my thoughts fuzzy around the edges.
“She’s awake!” Derek’s voice cut through the fog in my mind.
I turned my head to see Derek sitting between two hospital beds – one I was lying in, and the other holding Oliver. His small frame looked even tinier against the white sheets, his leg elevated and heavily bandaged.
Derek jumped up and rushed to my side, his face a mask of concern. “Thank the Moon Goddess you’re alright. You scared us,
honey.”
His hand reached for mine, but I pulled away. The divorce papers lay on the small table between us, a stark reminder of reality.
Oliver, on the other hand, didn’t even look at me. His lips were pursed tightly, his gaze fixed firmly on the ceiling above him. The complete indifference in his expression was like a knife to my heart.
“I told you she’d be fine,” Oliver muttered, still not looking at me. “Her wolf is too strong. She’s probably just faking it for
attention.”
My breath caught in my throat. When had my sweet little boy turned so cold? Was this really my son speaking?
Derek shot him a warning look. “Oliver! That’s no way to talk about your mother.”
“Whatever,” Oliver rolled his eyes. He tugged at Derek’s sleeve urgently. “Since she’s awake now, can we go find Aunt Rachel?
You promised we could see her after she finished talking to the doctor.”
Aunt Rachel. The words echoed painfully in my head. Every time he called her that, it felt like another piece of my heart was being
torn away.
“Oliver, please,” Derek began, but my son was already trying to climb out of bed, wincing as he moved his injured leg.
“I want to see Aunt Rachel,” he insisted, his voice rising with each word. “She was crying when she left. I need to make sure she’s
okay.”
The concern in his voice for Rachel – when he couldn’t even look at me after I’d collapsed – was the final straw. A strange calm
washed over me as something inside me shattered beyond repair.
Without a word, I reached for my phone on the bedside table. My fingers moved automatically, opening my banking app. The
interface was familiar – I’d spent countless hours transferring money, paying bills, keeping our family afloat.
I navigated to account authorizations and quickly revoked Derek’s access to my personal account. The premium credit card that
