The Stranger I Married-Chapter 118: Car crash

The hospital visit had left Ella lighter somehow—drained, but not in the way she used to be after these trips. Her chest no longer felt tight. Her legs didn’t wobble with guilt or dread. She’d said the things she needed to say.

Now she just wanted to go home.

Nicholas had insisted on sending his driver, of course. No debate. No compromise.

"Humor me," he’d murmured that morning, brushing his knuckles along her cheekbone as she adjusted her coat. "Please."

So she’d agreed.

When she slipped into the backseat of the sleek black SUV waiting at the curb, Ella noticed the same subtle luxury Nicholas always surrounded her with. Leather interiors. Quiet cabin. Discreet security detail in a separate car a block behind—Nicholas’s way of protecting without suffocating.

"Ms. Ella," Liam, the driver, greeted her politely. His voice was always calm, professional but kind. "Back to the penthouse?"

"Yes, thank you."

He pulled smoothly away from the hospital entrance, merging into the steady current of city traffic.

Ella settled into the seat, leaning her head against the cool glass of the window. Her phone vibrated.

Nicholas.

"I’m making tea. Text me when you’re five minutes away?"

Ella smiled softly, thumb moving to respond.

"Okay. Lemon bread too?"

The reply came instantly:

"Already on the tray."

She chuckled, the corners of her lips lifting just slightly.

The SUV rounded a corner, the streets familiar now—two more turns and they’d be at the private elevator entrance to Nicholas’s building. Home.

Then it happened.

Too fast. Too loud. The kind of moment that replays in your head on loop, even before it’s over.

The accident happened too fast for Ella to process.

One second she was reading Nicholas’s text, smiling faintly at the words "Already on the tray", thinking about lemon bread and soft tea mornings.

The next—the world collapsed sideways.

A flash of silver. Tires screaming against asphalt. The sharp, sickening crunch of impact as another car slammed into the side of the SUV.

Ella’s head snapped forward, her body yanked hard against the seatbelt. Glass shattered somewhere behind her. The sound tore through her ears, sharp as breaking ice.

Everything blurred.

The SUV spun once, twice, then slammed to a violent stop against the curb.

Her chest heaved. Her hands shook uncontrollably.

Her phone had slipped into her lap, but by some miracle, it was still lit.

Nicholas’s name stared back at her.

She pressed the call button with trembling fingers.

It rang once.

Twice.

Then his voice, clipped and warm all at once:

"Hey, baby—"

"Nicholas." Her voice cracked, high and thin. She wasn’t sure if she was breathing. "Nicholas—oh my God."

"What happened?" His tone sharpened instantly. "Ella? Where are you?"

Her lips trembled. "Car. Crash. I—I think I’m okay but I don’t—" Her throat closed, tears pooling fast. "I don’t know, Nicholas. I don’t know."

"Ella." His voice dropped low, but there was panic beneath it now. Barely restrained. "Tell me where you are. Right now."

"Corner of Fifth and Lexington. I think. Near that stupid coffee shop where you—" Her words broke off, her breath hitching.

. "Nicholas, I’m scared."

"I’m coming, baby. I’m coming right now." She heard the sound of wind through the phone, like he was already running.

"I don’t—" Her lip quivered. "I don’t want to lose you."

"Ella." His voice wavered, a crack breaking through his usual control. "You’re not losing me. I’m here. Right here."

"I—I thought—" Her chest tightened, breath catching hard. "I just left the hospital. What if something happens before I see you again? What if I don’t get to—"

"Stop." His voice broke. "Don’t you fucking say that."

Her whole body trembled.

"Nicholas—"

"I’m not letting you go," he rasped, breath uneven now. "You hear me? I’m not losing you, Ella."

A sob escaped her lips, raw and choked.

"I love you." The words spilled out before she could stop them, messy and half-gasped. "God, Nicholas, I love you."

Silence.

For a heartbeat, just silence.

Then his voice came back, cracked open, stripped bare.

"I love you too," he whispered, like the words had been waiting beneath his skin. "I love you, Ella. More than anything. Just—stay with me, baby. I’m almost there."

Her head lolled back against the seat. Her eyes fluttered. She fought to stay awake, every muscle shaking.

"Don’t close your eyes," Nicholas ordered, desperation tightening his voice. "Talk to me."

"I’m trying."

"Promise me."

"I promise," she whispered.

But her chest hurt. Her temple throbbed. She could taste blood at the corner of her lip.

She heard shouting outside, a door wrenching open.

"Ella!"

His voice wasn’t in the phone anymore.

It was real. Close.

Her eyes blinked open.

Nicholas was there—crouched beside the wrecked door, his face pale, jaw tight, eyes locked onto her like nothing else existed. He wasn’t Nicholas Carter, billionaire, CEO, untouchable man of the world right now.

He was just hers.

"Ella," he breathed, shoving the phone into his pocket, his hands reaching for her, frantic but careful. His knuckles were scraped. His tie was gone. He looked like he’d run the entire way.

Her lips parted. "You came."

"I always will," he whispered, eyes wet, breath shaking as his hand cupped her face. His fingers trembled—Nicholas Carter, trembling. "I’m here. I’ve got you."

Her tears slipped over her cheeks. "I didn’t want to die without saying it."

"You’re not dying," he said fiercely, pressing his forehead to hers, his breath hot and ragged. "You’re not leaving me, Ella."

"I love you."

His throat worked as he tried to swallow. His voice broke apart again. "I love you more than I know what to do with."

Her hand reached for his, weak but determined. Their fingers laced together.

"Stay awake for me," he whispered, kissing her knuckles, his lips shaking against her skin. "Stay with me, baby. Just a little longer."

She nodded, barely.

Paramedics swarmed behind him, but Nicholas refused to let go of her hand—not even when they lifted her onto the gurney, not even when they tried to check her vitals. His palm stayed pressed to hers, tethering her to the world.

His lips brushed her temple, whispering over and over, "I’ve got you. I’ve got you."

And even in the flashing chaos of lights, sirens, and strangers shouting orders, Ella wasn’t afraid anymore.

Because she knew—Nicholas Carter wasn’t going to let go.

Not now. Not ever.