ADAM
My head hurts so much that I can't open my eyes. I try to move my legs, but it causes even more pain. When my vision finally partially returns, I understand that I am in a hospital. Memories come slowly. I remember arriving at Amanda's place and meeting Korniyev, then our conversation, then she left, I finished the whiskey and got behind the wheel.
- Damn... - the attempt to recall anything in detail makes me feel nauseous. At that moment, a doctor walks in.
- Mr. Adam, how are you feeling? - he turns on some machine and looks at me.
- Fine. How long have I been here? - I need to get out of here quickly and talk to Amanda. Even if she read my letter, I must tell her how deeply I love her. Maybe I won't have another chance.
- You were brought in by ambulance on Thursday. We did everything necessary, and for some time you were unconscious. - the doctor adjusts his glasses, - and today is Monday.
- Five days? - I've been here for five days. Anything could have happened during this time. I didn't support her at the funeral, leaving her alone again.
- Adam, are you okay? - does this guy really not understand how dumb his question sounds right now?
- Has anyone come to see me? - Karetzky should already know that I’m here. And Marina definitely knows for sure.
- Your partner and assistant came, but they weren't allowed in the room. - I exhale; I don't need anyone to see me like this. - Only your fiancée came in. - I turn my head to the doctor, trying to understand what he just said.
- Fiancée? - concern appears in the man's eyes.
- Yes, a woman about 25, with black hair. Her name is Amanda. She said she was your fiancée, so we let her in. - the doctor continues to look at me as if waiting for some kind of problem.
- When did she come in? - the fact that Amanda was here warms my soul, but at the same time, it scares me. I don’t want her to worry about me. The last few days have already been tough for her.
- She arrived right after you were brought in and waited outside the operating room, but she couldn't see you, so I sent her home. The next day, we let Amanda into the room, and she's not come back since. - the man stands up and heads for the exit.
- When can I go home? - there's no time for hospital stays. I need to get back to work, I need to talk to Ami, and not lie in bed.
- Today we'll do a complete examination, and then we can make some forecasts. - the doctor looks at my legs. - Your nerve endings in both legs were damaged; they need time to recover. - I mechanically try to bend my leg, but a sharp pain forces me to grip the bed with my hands. I didn’t expect this.
- Can I have a phone? I need to make a call. - at the very least, I want to call Karetzky and find out how things are with the joint project.
- Of course. A few days ago, the police brought yours.
A few minutes later, a nurse comes in and hands me the phone.
- Is there anything else you need? - her smile is far from professional, and I recognize that tone.
- No, thank you. - I start searching for the number, deliberately ignoring the girl so she'll leave sooner.
I see the last incoming call "Amanda," and before that, almost 30 missed calls from her. As much as I want to, I don’t remember what we talked about. I dial her number, but I hear what completely throws me off: "Unfortunately, this number is no longer in service."
I call about a hundred more times, as if that might change something. But the voice repeats the same thing.
I dial Karetzky, and he answers immediately:
- Mr. Adam, we're so glad to hear you're okay. - he’s trying to flatter me again, but it doesn’t matter.
- What about Ms. Amanda’s number? - of course, I need to know how our project is going, but right now my thoughts are only about her.
- I'm not sure. Right now, her affairs are being handled by an assistant, and she, as far as I know, returned to London on Thursday. - everything Karetzky says after that doesn’t matter.
Amanda has left. She didn't even give me a chance to explain anything. But did I have the right to? No. After everything, I can’t judge her. If I had had the courage to tell her everything seven years ago, at the airport, we would have had a future.
Seven years ago...
A friend of Kitten called me and said that if I, the jerk, wanted to make things right, I had one last chance, because tomorrow at 3:30 PM Amanda was flying to London.
I arrived at the airport half an hour early. I couldn't tell her everything, but I wanted to see her one last time. I thought I would watch her walk onto the plane and start a new life where nothing threatened her.
But when she arrived, my whole body seemed to demand that I do something. I wanted to run to her, take her away, and drive so far that no one could find us. I kept watching until her dad pulled out the suitcase, and she spotted me. Even from a distance, I could see her red eyes and tired face. The girl looked completely shattered. She looked at me with such hope that I just couldn't bear it:
- Be happy, Kitten, we'll meet in the next life. - I closed the window and pressed the gas pedal. Just a few more seconds, and I would do something I would regret because it was too dangerous for her.
That same evening, I learned that my father had passed away and left a decent inheritance to his only son. On that day, Adam Kelly was born - a successful businessman who is feared and respected, and Adam - the guy who believed in love, disappeared forever.
The phone rings, and my head is splitting.
- Who the hell is this? - while I was being examined, I left it in the room, and as soon as I got back, it started ringing incessantly.
- I'm listening. - I sit up on the bed, as standing turned out to be very difficult, but at least I can still walk.
- Mr. Kelly. - Marina's voice sounds strange. - A man has come here who wants to meet you; he says it’s urgent.
- Give him the phone. - I don’t know who it is, but Marina rarely bothers me with such things. - Go ahead.
Half a minute of silence, and then the voice that is ruining my life for the second time comes through.
- Adam, we need to talk about Amanda. I have to tell you everything while there's still time. - Korniyev’s voice is tired. - Don't refuse. Do it at least for her.
And as much as I hate him, if he can say something useful or important about Ami, I'll manage to find the strength to listen to him.
- Alright. Marina will give you the address to come. I'll be waiting. - I hang up and lie back on the bed. I look at the phone screen, and my heart squeezes when I see Kitten leaning against me. Her eyes full of love. Then another image comes to mind, the hatred with which she looked at me when I said all those vile words.
Korniyev enters very quietly. I immediately notice that he has lost weight over these days. He looks overly exhausted, I would even say, sickly.
- Adam, I didn’t know you were in the hospital. - he sits down on the chair while I sit up from the bed and face him.
- It doesn’t matter. Tell me what you wanted. - the man tenses, and then begins his story. He talks for a long time, each word seems to be a struggle for him. At one point, I notice Korniyev turning pale, and I offer him a glass of water. When he finally finishes his story, I am left speechless.
I didn’t expect such honesty. I knew a lot about this man. He was the one people turned to even the wealthiest and the most powerful when problems arose. But the story I heard erased that image forever. Of course, I’m not a fool, and I understand that this doesn’t make him any safer, but it explains a lot.
- Adam, fulfill my request. - he heads toward the door, and just before leaving, repeats. - Amanda needs to know the whole truth, but only when the time is right.
Korniyev leaves me in solitude, and I try to figure out what to do with all this knowledge. Why did he choose to tell me?
As always, too many questions and so few answers. When the doctor comes in to check on me, I tell him I'm going home at my own risk. I call my driver and return to the apartment, which I consider my home. I want to go to Amanda, what if she is here, maybe Karetzky's words were just a mistake or some strange joke. But I know it’s the truth.
She has left, and this time we don’t have a second chance.