Chapter 1 - The Hospital of Shame
The sterile air of the Saint Anthony Medical Center was thick with the scent of antiseptic,
and the hushed whispers of nurses who couldn't help but stare.
I walked down the long,
fluorescent-lit hallway,
my black heels clicking rhythmically against the polished tile floor.
Each step felt like a drumbeat of war,
echoing the cold determination burning in my chest.
When I reached the heavy double doors of the emergency room,
I took a deep breath,
adjusting the folder under my arm.
The nurse at the station looked up,
her eyes wide with a mixture of pity and suppressed laughter.
"Mrs. Rollins,"
she whispered,
"they are in Curtain Three."
I thanked her with a stiff nod,
my face a mask of calculated calm.
I pulled back the curtain with a sharp,
decisive motion.
There they were,
Kenneth and Maya,
tangled in a grotesque,
unbreakable embrace.
The sight was more pathetic than I had imagined.
Kenneth’s face was a map of agony,
sweat beading on his forehead as he tried to maintain some semblance of dignity.
Maya was sobbing into a thin hospital pillow,
her body shaking with the force of her humiliation.
"Sabrina,"
Kenneth gasped,
his voice cracking under the weight of his fear.
"It’s not what it looks like,"
he managed to say,
though the physical evidence suggested otherwise.
"Really, Kenneth?"
I asked,
tilting my head slightly.
"Because it looks like you are literally stuck to my brother’s wife."
The doctor nearby coughed,
trying to hide a smirk behind his clipboard.
"The adhesive is extremely strong,"
the doctor explained,
clearing his throat.
"It has bonded to the skin at a molecular level."
I looked at the small,
empty bottle on the bedside table,
the one I had carefully refilled with industrial glue.
I felt no guilt,
only a sharp,
cold sense of satisfaction.
Justin,
my brother,
burst through the curtains then.
His face was flushed,
his eyes darting from his wife to his best friend.
"Maya?"
he whispered,
his voice trembling with disbelief.
"Kenneth?"
The silence that followed was heavy,
suffocating everyone in the small space.
"I’m sorry, Justin,"
Maya wailed,
her voice muffled by the pillow.
"He told me he loved me,"
she cried,
betraying Kenneth in a heartbeat.
Kenneth’s eyes went wide,
and he tried to pull away,
only to groan in excruciating pain.
"You lying serpent,"
Kenneth hissed at her,
forgetting for a moment that his wife was standing right there.
"You were the one who suggested the hotel in the first place!"
I watched them turn on each other,
their "love" evaporating under the harsh lights of reality.
I pulled out the first photograph from my folder,
a clear shot of them entering a motel three months ago.
"You've been busy, Kenneth,"
I said,
dropping the photo onto the bed.
"While I was working late to fix the company’s books,"
"you were spending our dividends on cheap rooms and expensive jewelry."
Justin looked like he was going to vomit.
He looked at Maya,
the woman he had married just two years ago.
"How could you?"
he asked,
his voice cracking.
"She didn't just do it for love, Justin,"
I added,
flipping to the next page in my folder.
"She’s been helping him funnel money out of the family trust."
Maya’s sobbing stopped abruptly,
and she looked at me with pure terror.
The doctors and nurses retreated,
sensing that the medical emergency was the least of the problems here.
"I want them separated,"
I told the surgeon,
my voice as cold as ice.
"But do it slowly."
"I want them to feel every bit of the friction they’ve caused."
Kenneth reached out a hand toward me,
but he couldn't move his arm more than an inch.
"Sabrina, please,"
he begged,
"don't do this to me."
"I'm not doing anything, Kenneth,"
I replied,
leaning in close to his ear.
"I’m just watching you face the consequences of your own choices."
The surgeon handed me the consent form for the operation.
I held the pen over the paper,
but I didn't sign it yet.
"The combination, Kenneth,"
I whispered,
so only he could hear.
"The safe in your study."
"Tell me now,"
"or I walk out of this hospital and let the janitor try to peel you apart."
His eyes darted around,
looking for an escape that didn't exist.
Finally,
he slumped his shoulders as much as he could.
"08-14-22,"
he muttered,
the date of our fifth anniversary.
The irony was almost too much to bear.
I signed the form with a flourish,
tossed the pen onto his chest,
and walked out without looking back.
May you like
I had work to do,
and a safe to open.
