Annabelle didn't survive. Surviving such an accident with the initial injuries incurred would be an act of rare miracle. One scarce in shining on her since the numerous deaths in her family.
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.
Some people were life's favorite. Anna—since the arrival of Gigi Lacoke and the death of her father—was quick to realise how much hatred the universe held for her happiness. One calamity after another, the lady took gladness in how well her work was going. Until Gigi forced her to sign the power of attorney amidst vile beatings. The husband she looked up to with hope and admiration had morphed into a scumbag thinking with his cock and benefit of shares at her company should his mistress gain control.
She took her last breath at the explosion 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. Not at all.
Yet it happened. Not only had she stolen her husband, she had been the cause of numerous deaths. The reason Anna lost her baby. Gigi Lacoke was nothing but a disciple of sorrow sent by death itself to ruin Anna and deprive her of every lovely emotion a woman could smile upon.
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 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 in the thought that begging for your husband's attention, pleading for the barest of his love and the nearness of his useless cock each night will have fluid bliss resume to crumbling marital endeavours.
Hope is the pathetic word they give women to console them for the fact that they will forever be bound 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 or 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 demand names." The voice was solid. Insistent in a way that would have boomed but the eerie calmness of it plus the sharp intake she heard was evidence of anger control.
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.
"Boss, we cannot make assumptions until the miss is awake. CEO Fray said they were divorced. It has been finalized. We cannot point fingers unless…" The one talking stopped, tiny gasps forming when she saw her.
Anna was surprised. She didn't know why the lady had such a reaction. But the other figure 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. A man she made an enemy of yet ran to for immense help.
"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 managed.
He nodded. 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. A lace of tears.
"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 CEO Harbinger despite her marital status 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. Felt less stiff and more mobile although not as much as she wanted.
Yet, the most afflicting of all—sadness and gladness slipping through—was the memory of how she got here. The ones that betrayed her. It was as fresh as daylight, bringing her a wave of ache that bloomed throughout her body.
The sort of emotional pain no medicine could cure.
Anna swallowed it. The lesson was learnt the hard way and she held on to it aware it would be useful in fueling her revenge.
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 slipping through the gaps between the curtains.
Anna struggled to sit 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.
She 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. Whispering words she thought were foreign to his dictionary. Emotions that were glorious to have been witnessed in her lifetime.
Anna wanted to move her leg but it was still bandaged and 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 quiet steps sauntered in. The gentle voice she had heard, the kind she had once imagined, would be useful in lulling anyone to sleep, filtered through like a soothing song. "No. Shift the meeting to next week. I am in no mood for his face after the recent incident and Brook, do not call me again today. I would rather.." He paused as soon as he noticed her.
As though he was seeing a ghost, Sullivan remained still. His lips wouldn't move and Anna could hear the person on the other end saying something into the phone.
"Later Brook." Sullivan 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.
Sullivan 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 dragged him back to a feeling all too familiar and dangerous.
To a past he has tucked behind sheets and sealed away in sheltered corners.
Anna made him 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. Wishing upon her existence in his life.
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.
Yet 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?