Annabelle didn't survive. Of course she couldn't. There is no way anyone would survive such an accident especially with all the initial injuries she already had.
Life isn't a movie and perhaps Anna isn't the main character of her own story. She isn't the female lead that could survive a thousand stab wounds and still come out victorious like nothing happened.
She took her last breath at the bombing of the car. Her husband's mistress had won. Her husband had won.
If anyone had told Anna two weeks ago that Fray was cheating on her she would have disagreed.
If they had said he was cheating on her with her late brother's wife she would have killed them. No way in hell a woman as sweet as Gigi would do such a thing. No. Not at all.
But it happened. Not only had Gigi stolen her husband, she had been the cause of her brother's death. She had been the reason Anna lost her baby.
And as if it wasn't enough to rob a woman of all these things that made her happy, she had forced Annabelle to sign the divorce papers. Beaten her to stupor and when the lady attempted to escape, she tried to hit her with acid and injured her legs with hockey sticks.
How can one woman be so evil to another? Especially given that she is the home wrecker? Could she not at least stop when she stole her husband?
Hope is a word for the fools. Hope is a word to useless idiots. Hope is for women who think the change in their husbands attitude, the constant nagging about her not wearing enough make up or not dressing up enough is all her fault.
Hope is the pathetic word they give women to console them for the fact that they will forever be bounded by the chains of slavery should they interlink their life and dreams to a man.
Hope isn't what Anna needs. She needs air. She needs revenge. She needs to not be told what not to do. She needs to see that the one her mind had flickered to, the one whom she had stepped away from, was the right one.
"I need names!" The voice boomed but then it calmed and she heard a sharp intake like he was trying to control himself.
Anna blinked. Once. Twice. Severally.
She could swear she had been dead. She could swear she saw the flames of hell welcoming her for putting her whole life before that of a useless man.
Except that this didn't look like hell. Didn't smell like hell.
"Sir, we cannot make assumptions until the madam is awake. CEO Fary said they were divorced. It has been finalized. We cannot point fingers unless…" the person talking stopped and gasped when she saw her.
Anna was surprised. She didn't know why the lady had such a reaction. But the other turned around, all shades of blurred lovely rich skin and amazing body.
He stood still. Like he had been impaled by something and she blinked at him. Hoping she could blink him into existence.
The hope she abandoned and felt was stupid was searing in her head. And she welcomed it. Allowing herself to hope this was who she thought it was.
Her vision was blurred but she could feel him. Like flames of fire gently caressing her skin.
"Am I…" her voice was raspy and the man stepped forward hitting something above her head. She heard a ringing and he was right next to her. Placing her hand in his.
Kissing her hands, whispering words she couldn't really hear.
"Am I…am I alive?" She finally asked.
He nods his head. And she saw it. The faintest hint of a smile on his face and maybe she was overthinking but there was mist in his eyes as if he could cry at any time now.
"Yes. Yes Annabelle. You survived." he kissed her hand again and it felt strange. They had never been this close. And he has never called her Annabelle.
To him, she was Mrs Darmy and to her he was Vice Chairman Sullivan. Nothing informal between them.
She wanted to speak again but she heard footsteps rushing in and she was suddenly assaulted by waves of nausea and fatigue. Anna wanted to whisper something but it escaped her and before she could even blink at him, she had slipped back into a deep sleep.
One she woke up from hours later, days later, weeks later. There was no way to tell.
But the next time she was awake, she felt better. More invigorated. She could feel her energy moving through her veins.
The room was silent. There was not his voice or that of the other lady. It was just her, a machine that wouldn't stop beeping and slight rays of sun shining through the gaps between the curtains.
Anna swallowed hard and sat up, feeling heavy all over. Her body ached and she groaned, a perfect grimace forming on her face.
"Fuck!" She cursed, propping her head against a pillow.
Anna sat there for the next few minutes learning to breathe in and out. Learning to realise that she was alive and her waking up and seeing him by her side wasn't a fluke nor a dream.
Michael Sullivan in his flesh and blood. Right by her bed side. She wanted to move her leg but it was still bandaged and felt too heavy to move.
"The sun looks lovely." She whispered, forcing a smile on her face.
She didn't need to be told but she could feel the bandage on her head. Her leg was in a cast and had been hung on something. Her sides ached and bandages were wrapped around her chest area as well.
The door opened and gentle steps sauntered in. The gentle voice she had heard, the kind she had once imagined, would be useful in lulling anyone to sleep. "No. Shift the meeting to next week. I am in no mood for his face after the recent incident and Brook, don't call me again today. I would rather.." he paused and stared at her.
As if he was seeing a ghost. His lips wouldn't move and Anna could hear the person on the other end saying something into the phone.
"Later Brook." Michael hung up and placed the phone in his pocket, walking closer to hit the red button across her head.
He didn't speak to her, he just stood there leaning against a wooden partition that divided her space from the one at the door while he watched her.
His gaze was unfathomable and to her it seemed like he was holding his breath. As if he felt that if he breathed, she would vanish and cease to exist.
Michael had seen a lot of women in his life. Had his fair share of them for the betterment of his youth but each time he thought of her. Every single time he breathed her in, his instincts acted like he had never seen a woman.
She made him feel anxious. She fucked with his head without even talking to him. Her existence plagued him day and night. He found himself tossing and turning to the thoughts of her.
Found himself with his cock in his hand in the most unhinged places stealing a glimpse of her. A woman who was never meant to be his.
And here she was. Surviving the calamities life had thrown at her. With the bliss that he was the first person she had thought of.
Even if that meant she had crashed into his building and rattled him so much he might have sullied his chances at making Chairman.
But who cared about positions when he had all he needed right in front of him?