I wanted to laugh, to scream, to tear the whole damn room apart. But I just blinked at him, my throat tight. “Oh.”
His expression softened. “It’s been a rough day for you. You should rest.”
Rest? My daughter was dead. My husband was a traitor. And he wanted me to rest?
I lowered my gaze, staring at my hands as they twisted in the sheets. I needed to breathe, to think, to get the hell out of here before I exploded.
I inhaled shakily. “I… I don’t remember much.”
His shoulders relaxed slightly. Good. Let him think I was weak. Let him believe I was lost in grief.
“It’s understandable,” he said gently. “You’ve been through so much. Maybe it’s best if you don’t think too hard about things right now.”
Don’t think too hard? Oh, I was thinking plenty.
I was thinking about how he’d whispered to Selena. How he’d covered for her. How he’d let our daughter’s murderer walk free.
But I just nodded. “Maybe.”
His relief was almost insulting. He really thought I was breaking. That I would accept whatever lies he told me.
He had no idea.
The nurse walked in then, flipping through my chart. “Mrs. Rivera, your test results look fine. You just fainted from exhaustion. We’ll discharge you soon.”