The Firefighter Returns as a Quintillionaire King

Chapter 3

Chapter 3

The hospital room was quiet except for the rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor. Alex stared at the ceiling, his mind numb. 

He'd been awake for about twenty minutes, but he hadn't moved. What was the point?

Then his phone started buzzing on the bedside table.

The vibration was insistent, angry almost. Alex turned his head slowly and saw the screen light up. 

Lisa's name flashed across it, along with her photo—a picture from their wedding day, when he'd still believed in happy endings.

His finger hovered over the answer button for a moment. 

Part of him wanted to pick up, wanted to hear her voice, wanted her to explain everything away with some reasonable excuse that would make the nightmare of last night disappear.

But he couldn't. He couldn't listen to more lies, more excuses, more cold indifference.

Alex switched the phone to silent mode and turned his face back toward the window. 

The buzzing stopped, then started again. And again. And again. Each time, he ignored it.

Eventually, exhaustion pulled him back under. He drifted into an uneasy sleep, filled with dreams of fire and Lisa's retreating figure.

"Alex. Alex!"

Someone was calling his name. The voice was familiar, though stripped of any warmth.

Alex's eyes opened slowly. For a moment, he thought he was still dreaming. 

But no—Lisa was standing beside his bed, dressed impeccably in a cream-colored designer suit. 

Her dark hair was pulled back in a flawless bun, her makeup perfect. 

She looked like she'd just stepped out of a boardroom, not like someone who'd barely escaped a burning building hours ago.

Her face was completely expressionless, as if she were looking at a stranger rather than her husband.

"What are you doing here?" Alex's voice came out flat, cold.

Lisa's eyebrow arched slightly. "I've been trying to call you for the past hour. You didn't answer."

"I know."

"I had to contact Captain Morrison to find out you were admitted to this hospital." Her tone was clipped, businesslike. "Why didn't you answer your phone?"

Alex turned his head to look at her fully. "Why didn't you wait for me to come rescue you? Oh wait—you didn't. You left me to die."

Lisa's jaw tightened. "Don't be dramatic."

"Dramatic?" Alex let out a harsh laugh. "Is that what you think this is?"

"I came here to check on you, didn't I?" Lisa's voice remained calm, controlled. "You could have at least answered your phone. I was... concerned."

The word sounded forced, like she was reading from a script.

Alex turned his head away, staring at the wall. He didn't have the energy for this. Not now.

"Alex." Lisa's voice took on an edge of impatience. "I'm talking to you."

Silence.

"Fine. If you're going to act like a child, I'll just say what I came to say." Lisa shifted her weight, her heels clicking against the linoleum floor.

 "I didn't forget about you on purpose last night. When we got out, I was worried about Ben. His injury looked severe at the time. I was going to send help for you immediately, but—"

"But you were too busy booking the entire top floor of the hospital for your boyfriend?" Alex cut in, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Too busy commandeering every doctor and paramedic to look after a man with a minor cut on his arm?"

Lisa's composure cracked slightly. "That's not—"

"Is that all you came to say?" Alex finally turned to look at her again, his eyes cold and hard. "Because if it is, you can leave now. I'm sure Ben needs you more than I do."

Lisa's face flushed with anger. "What kind of attitude is this? I came all the way here to see you, and this is how you treat me?"

"You came to see me?" Alex's laugh was bitter. "No, Lisa. You came here to ease your own conscience. You came here to convince yourself that you're not a terrible person for leaving your husband to burn alive while you played nurse to your lover."

"Don't call him that!" Lisa snapped, her ice-queen facade finally cracking. "Ben is not my lover. We were discussing business!"

"Business." Alex nodded slowly, mockingly. "Right. Business. Is that what you call it now? Tell me, Lisa, do all your business meetings happen in hotel rooms? Do all your business partners require you to hold their hands and stroke their faces so tenderly?"

"We were going over contracts! The hotel was convenient, and—"