Chapter 285

The instant the operating room doors clicked shut, Steven felt something inside him snap. He stumbled backward, slamming into the icy wall, breath coming hard.

Blood trickled from the cut on his neck, but he barely noticed. His whole focus was on that closed door, panic swirling in his eyes-real, raw panic he'd never felt

before.

"Mr. Heath, your neck needs attention.” A nurse rushed over, clutching a first-aid kit, her voice careful but worried.

Steven shoved her hand away, his own voice hoarse and broken. "Get lost."

The nurse stepped aside, silent.

Lucie, please—just be okay. If you make it through this, I swear... I'll let you go.

Minutes crawled by, each one heavier than the last. Steven slumped onto a bench, weighed down by a sinking feeling he couldn't shake.

The blood on his neck had dried, leaving dark stains all over his white shirt. His hands were sticky with it, too.

An hour inched past. Finally, the light above the operating room flicked off.

"How is she?" Steven called out the second the surgeon appeared.

The lead doctor pulled off his mask, face grave. "You got her here in time, Mr. Heath. The wound missed her trachea and the major arteries, but she lost a lot of blood. She'll need to stay in the hospital for observation. And...”

He paused, taking in Steven's pale, strained face. "Her emotional state is very unstable. She may have a strong stress reaction after surgery. Please don't upset her."

Steven's heart sank. He grabbed the doctor's arm, desperate. "When will she wake up?"

"Once the anesthesia wears off. She's weak. She needs rest."

A few minutes later, four nurses wheeled Lucie out on a bed.

Lucie's face was so pale she looked almost translucent. Her lips were drained of color. Thick gauze was wrapped around her neck, already stained with fresh blood.

Steven rushed to her side. He reached out, but stopped himself halfway, afraid even his touch might hurt her.

"Get her the best VIP room,” he rasped, never taking his eyes off her.

"Of course, Mr. Heath."

Soon, Lucie was settled into a private suite. Nurses fitted her with an oxygen mask and started an IV.

Inside, the only sound was the steady beep of the monitors.

Steven sat by her bed, quietly watching her sleep. He reached out, brushing a stray hair from her cheek, his touch gentle in a way he rarely allowed himself.

His own wound had been cleaned and bandaged, but the ache in his chest was so much worse.

"How did we end up like this?" he whispered, voice full of hurt. "How did we get so lost?"

He saw again the look in her eyes as she'd aimed that toothbrush, the way her breath fluttered as she collapsed in his arms.

His heart squeezed tight, pain radiating through his chest.

“Lucie, do you really hate me that much?" His voice dropped lower, softer than he realized. “So much you'd rather die than be with me?”

Only the monitor answered him, its steady rhythm filling the silence.

Another hour slipped by before Lucie finally stirred.

She coughed, her hand twitching weakly, a sharp pain slicing through her throat. She let out a low, muffled sound.

"You're awake?" Steven leaned in, his eyes rimmed red. "How do you feel? Do you want some water?"

Lucie blinked, her gaze unfocused, mind foggy and blank. She stared at Steven as if she didn't know him at all.

For a second, she couldn't remember anything.

Steven sat frozen, the hope in his eyes dimming. "Lucie, please. Don't do anything like that again. Don't throw your life away..."

Lucie turned her face away, eyes drifting closed again. Even if she didn't remember what happened, she wanted nothing to do with him.

Steven swallowed hard, fighting the

lump in his throat. He smoothed her hair, and hesitant "Get some

rest then stay right here.

His phone suddenly buzzed in his pocket. Over and over.

Steven checked the screen-it was Bria.

He pressed his lips together, annoyed. He didn't want to answer her. He put the phone on silent and shoved it back in his pocket.

Ten minutes later, a message popped up: [Steven, are you coming over tonight? I made dinner.]

He stared at it for a long time before finally replying: [Something came up. I can't make it tonight. Get some rest.]

Bria didn't text again.

Just as he was about to put his phone away, it vibrated again—this time a string of messages from June.

[Mr. Heath, I had your coat dry-cleaned. When can you pick it up?]

[I can bring it to you if you'd like :)]

[I never really got to thank you. Please don't ignore me...]

June just wouldn't give up. She messaged him every single day, rain or shine.

Steven barely even glanced at her texts anymore. Most of the time, he ignored them completely.

But she just doesn't know when to quit. The more he ignored her, the more persistent she became.

By ten that night, Miranda started calling him over and over.

He finally answered. "Hey, Mom. What's wrong?"

The moment she heard his voice, Miranda burst out, frantic and angry. "Steven, what is going on with you? Why haven't you answered my

calls?"

Steven pinched the bridge of his nose, irritation flickering across his face. "Is something wrong?"

"You've lost your mind, haven't you?" Miranda's voice was almost a shout, thick with worry you spend all your time with Bria, and you don't care about anything else. What's gotten into you?"