Crimson Love

Elizabeth POV:

I stared at the divorce agreement on the hospital table, the Griffin family crest stamped at the top making my stomach churn with acid as my fingers twisted into the bedsheets.

Fallon Ware clicked across the VIP ward in seven-inch heels, the pale mole beside her left nostril twitching smugly under the harsh ceiling light as she slid a Montblanc pen toward my hand. As a former team PR socialite who had faked her medical resume to worm her way into the New York Empire's rehab unit, she was finally making her move to replace me.

I raised my head, my vision blurring from the blood rushing to my temples, and spotted my own custom coat draped over her shoulders. My chest felt like a heavy boulder was crushing it, and I let out a cold laugh, swatting the pen away.

"Brock's patience is completely gone, Elizabeth," Fallon whispered, her voice dripping with mockery. "Sign the papers, take the payout, and get out of New York."

I sucked in a sharp breath to stop my fingertips from trembling and crossed my arms.

"If the great Captain of the New York Empire is in such a rush to marry you, why doesn't he have the guts to face his legal wife himself?"

Fallon's face stiffened instantly. She bit her lower lip, fake tears pooling in her eyes as her fingers clutched the hem of her designer skirt.

"Brock is preparing for tomorrow night's Stanley Cup playoff game! He doesn't want to waste a second looking at a pathetic nobody like you."

Watching her pathetic act, I thought of the five years I had spent hiding my global medical credentials, working as a lowly physical therapy assistant in the Empire's locker room just to support Brock from the shadows. A bitter laugh escaped my throat.

I snatched the Montblanc pen, yanked off the cap, and jammed the nib onto the signature line, a dark blot of ink bleeding through the paper.

Fallon flinched back half a step, her voice turning shrill.

"Don't you dare try any tricks!"

Ignoring her screeching, I flicked my wrist and signed my name across the divorce agreement, pressing so hard the tip tore through the back of the page.

I grabbed the signed stack and flung it straight at her chest, the sharp paper edge slicing a faint red line across her collarbone.

She gasped, clutching her chest and glaring at me in disbelief, clearly shocked that the quiet locker room assistant dared to strike back.

I threw off the blanket, swung my legs out of bed, and ripped the IV needle from the back of my hand. Red blood beaded on my skin as I walked straight to the closet without sparing her a glance.

"I'm going to record how violent you are and send it to TMZ!" Fallon shrieked behind me. "The whole city will see what a disgusting Puck Bunny you really are!"

I pulled my old trench coat from the closet, reached into the pocket for the massive check Brock had signed, and ripped it cleanly in half right in front of her face.

The shredded paper fluttered down onto the toes of her heels, leaving her mouth hanging open and her fake tears forgotten.