"Wait here, Diana," suggested Oliver Richard in his coarse, worried voice as he hurried toward the VIP floor.
The beautiful moonlight glittered over the ocean, and the stars shimmered in the dark blue sky; it was my favorite view. I walked to the balcony, taking a deep breath.
I let out a sigh and turned around, trying to distract myself from the storm of thoughts.
The bar of the seven-star hotel Ozora was crowded when I walked in with my husband, Oliver Richard, the half-owner of that hotel. The Richard family was one of the top ten richest in the UK, just like my own- the Spencer family, until recently.
Despite belonging to such powerful lineages, I was always quiet and shy, utterly oblivious to our businesses and family treasures. I was born with a silver spoon and treated like a princess until my mother was alive.
Then my father and my life both changed drastically.
While finishing my medical studies at Oxford University, I married Oliver at the age of twenty. My first three years of marriage were beautiful. I became the youngest gold-medalist surgeon at just twenty-four.
My life couldn't have been more perfect.
But perfection never lasts.
After a huge loss in his business, Oliver began to act distant, and my world collapsed in silence, scattered into pieces. From being one of the most reputed and shining doctors in the UK, I became a blacklisted, miserable wife of a corrupt businessman.
Since then, I trapped myself inside our home, trying to win Oliver back, at least as a good housewife. But in the last four years, our relationship only deteriorated. I became a forgotten name, an unwanted wife, and a failed doctor, forsaken even by my own family.
I sat in the corner of the vast, sea-facing balcony, waiting for nearly an hour. Oliver still hadn't returned. He was meeting a potential buyer for Ozora, that luxurious hotel that had been my grandfather's wedding gift to us. Without my signature, the sale was impossible, so I was forced to break my hiatus from public life.
My palms were damp and I could feel the hammering of my heart. The lingering gaze of the guests on me was making me more insecure and uncomfortable. I wanted to run back to my dark, empty room, hide forever from everyone.
Staring at the sparkling, dark water, I tried to distract myself, losing myself in childhood memories. Those golden days when my mother was still alive and we often came here as a family.
However, my father remarried her mistress within a year of my mother's death. My once lovely house became a prison for me. If I even made a small mistake, I was punished severely. But, my father was too busy to notice my sufferings and tears.
"Little Miss, would you like to try our new drink while waiting for Mr. Richard?"
The familiar voice of our old manager broke my thoughts. I turned to him with a brief smile, hiding the tears in my brown eyes.
"Sure," I replied softly, taking the glass from his hand. "Manager Uncle, you haven't changed at all. How are you?"
His wrinkled face twisted into a bitter sigh. "Life isn't good anymore. Even Ozora is running at a huge loss. Nothing's the same as before." Taking a brief pause, he scanned me from head to toe and continued, "You look so thin, Little Miss. Why don't you take care of yourself anymore?"
I forced a bright smile, trying to convince the old man that everything was fine that I was fine. But those were only empty words. Deep down, I wasn't convincing him; I was trying to convince myself.
The drink was indeed delicious. After a few sips, I began to feel light-headed and relaxed. Minutes passed as we reminisced about the golden days of the past until a sudden, firm tug on my wrist startled me.
I turned sharply and found Oliver standing there. Seeing his swollen, furious face, the frightened manager quietly disappeared among the crowds of the guests.
Oliver was in a terrible state.
The left side of his arrogant, handsome face was bruised and swollen, with blood trickling from the corner of his lip and staining his white shirt. His dark hair was disheveled, and the top buttons of his shirt were torn, revealing his muscular chest. His tall, 176-centimetre silhouette was trembling, not from cold, but from anger, fear, or agony.
I couldn't tell which.
Panicked, I rushed to him. "What happened to you, Oliver? Did you get into a fight? With whom?"
Instead of replying, he grabbed my wrist firmly and began dragging me toward the VIP floor. My breath caught in my throat.
"Oliver! Where are you taking me? Wait! We need to see a doctor-"
"WILL YOU FUCKING SHUT UP AND FOLLOW ME!"
His sudden angry shout echoed through the bar. Conversations around us stopped instantly. For the first time, I couldn't recognise the man I had fallen in love with, the man who once promised to protect me forever.
He dragged me to the most luxurious VIP chamber at the far end of the second floor. Before knocking, he muttered in a grave, low tone, "Just sign the papers, and we'll leave for home."
"Papers? Are we really selling the hotel? Is it-"
"For God's sake, just do as I say if you want to leave-"
Bang!
Before Oliver could finish, a sharp pain struck the back of my head. My vision blurred, my ears rang, and my legs gave out beneath me.
I could see Oliver's terrified face, his lips moving, his black eyes locked on me but his words didn't reach me anymore.
Gradually, darkness engulfed me, and the pain became unbearable with every passing second.