The Truman Cage: My Husband Faked My World Chapter 05

The Truman Cage: My Husband Faked My World Chapter 05

Something shattered inside Ethan’s head. Before he could even process the words, Leo bolted.

He slammed his shoulder into the storeroom door, busting the lock. The heavy wood flew wide, and the copper stench of blood hit them like a physical wall. Leo’s legs gave out under him, and he crashed to his knees. His eyes locked on the unmoving silhouette in the back of the room. My body lay in the middle of a spreading pool of dark blood, small and hopelessly broken. A gut–wrenching

sob tore out of Leo’s throat.

He staggered forward, then dropped to his hands and knees and crawled. His hands slid through the

cold, sticky blood as he reached me.

Julian rushed in right behind him. There was no time to grieve.

He dropped to his knees beside my body, blood already soaking through his pants. With shaking hands, he tore open my pajama top and started chest compressions, pushing down again and again.

The older doctor leaned down, pulled out a penlight, and lifted my eyelid. The beam caught my pupil, blown wide and unresponsive.

The older doctor’s hand trembled as he touched Julian’s arm mid–compression. “Dr. Croft, her pupils are fixed and dilated. No response to light.”

“She’s been gone for at least thirty minutes. There’s nothing more we can do. You need to call it—”

“Shut the fuck up!”

Julian cut him off with a roar.

His head snapped up, veins bulging at his temples, his face ashen as he shouted again. “She’s not dead–do you hear me? I’m a doctor. I can save her. She’s not dying in this hellhole!”

His voice had cracked with absolute desperation. He violently jerked the older doctor’s hand off

him.

He barked at the paralyzed medical staff. “I said she’s not dead! She’s NOT fucking dead!”

“Push one of epi and get the defibrillator! Move! Why the hell are you just standing there?!”

He didn’t wait for a response. He bent over me again, compressions harder now, faster, more frantic. Ethan appeared in the doorway.

The steady thud of compressions went on for more than ten minutes. Julian was drenched in sweat

His eyes never left my face as it paled, then began to turn blue. Nothing changed.

After one last compression, Julian’s hands stopped in midair, shaking uncontrollably. The strength went out of him, and he stopped. He knew.

He stared down at my body, then turned to the older doctor. “What killed her?”

The older doctor hesitated before answering. “Severe hemorrhagic shock, most likely from

blunt–force trauma leading to placental abruption.”

“I’ll need an autopsy to confirm it.”

The word autopsy landed on Leo like a sentence.

That was when it finally sank in: I wasn’t waking up. I was dead.

I had died in this filthy storeroom, right under his nose. “No, no…” Leo lurched forward on his

hands and knees.

His bloodstained hands shook as he reached for my cheek. My skin was already cold.

He whispered my name, his voice breaking so badly it was barely recognizable. “Clara… Clara, open your eyes. It’s me. It’s Leo. Please look at me…

“Clara, please. Please don’t do this to me.”