𝗙𝗿𝗼𝗺 𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗕𝗹𝗼𝗼𝗱 𝗩𝗲𝗻𝗱𝗲𝘁𝘁𝗮 𝗨𝗻𝗶𝘃𝗲𝗿𝘀𝗲.
𝐅𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐤𝐢𝐞
I am the judge, the jury, and the executioner.
Francesca "Frank" Monroe. One of the most successful criminal defense attorneys in the history of Chicago. The woman everyone...
"Vengeance is in my heart, death in my hand, blood and revenge are hammering in my head."
- William Shakespeare
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I felt a tug in my consciousness, my mind gradually drifting back to reality. With much effort, I lifted my eyelids and blinked open my eyes. Immediately, they landed on Michael sitting at my side. His hand was gently wrapped around mine, his touch warm and familiar.
"Michael," I said, breaking the silence that had settled around us, "What happened?" I pulled my hand from his to sit up, taking in the sterile surroundings.
"You don't remember?" he asked me softly, his gentle voice filled with worry. His forehead creased slightly as he studied my face, his gaze intense and eager.
It took me a few moments to piece together what had happened, but I managed to recall the events leading up to my hospitalization.
"But... I'm okay now," I reassured him, reaching out with my free hand to disconnect the needle of the IV stuck into my arm.
"No, Frankie! Stop!" Michael intervened swiftly, wrapping his hands around mine, effectively preventing me from messing with the medical device. "You need to rest now. Once the doctors give you the green light, we can go."
Drained of energy, I chose to comply rather than argue. I wasn't in a position to exert myself anyway. "Do you have my phone with you?" I asked.
"It's back at your office," he answered with an apologetic shrug. "Here, use mine if you need to make a call."
Taking his phone gratefully, I rapidly punched in Sawyer's number. It was unlike him to not have shown up here by now, and it worried me slightly.
"Who's this?" Sawyer's gruff, irritated voice resonated from the other end.
"It's me," I replied in a hushed voice.
"Frankie, where are you? I've been worried sick! Dalilah called me earlier, said some guy had rushed you to the hospital! I've been to every single hospital in Chicago trying to find you! Please tell me where you are!" His voice was filled with desperation and raw panic.
Confused by the unfamiliarity of the location, I turned towards Michael, murmuring, "Where are we?"
"This is my father's private hospital," he revealed, taking me by surprise.
I turned my attention back to the phone, "I'll text you the location. Come and take me home."
After hanging up, I returned the phone back to Michael. "Thanks," I murmured softly.
"Always," he whispered back, the conviction in his voice overwhelming me for a moment.
After undergoing a variety of tests, the doctor finally came into the room, looking much more at ease. He explained to me that I was actually in perfect health. The fainting incident that I had experienced earlier had been nothing more than a minor episode brought on by a rapid decrease in my blood sugar levels. Once the fluid infusion was completed, he reassured me that I was completely fit to go home.
