Chapter 287

Steven halted, glancing back at his son on the hospital bed. His voice was rough. "She's in the VIP suite on the top floor. Don't disturb her. She just got out of surgery." Miranda's expression changed instantly. "Surgery? What happened?”

Steven shut his eyes, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed. "She... hurt her neck."

Miranda's face went white, and she staggered back a step. “Was it you? Did you hurt Lucie again?"

"No." Steven turned his head away, not wanting to continue. "Mom, please. Don't ask. My head's a mess right now. I just need some space."

"Cody's fine now. You should go home and rest."

He didn't wait for a response. He just walked off, needing a moment to himself.

Inside the elevator, his tired face stared back at him from the mirrored walls. The bandage on his neck was already showing spots of blood, mixing with the red veins in his eyes. He looked completely wrecked.

He stepped outside for a smoke, letting the cold night air numb him for a while. After half an hour, when his nerves had finally settled, he headed back to Lucie's room.

The door clicked softly as he pushed it open.

The monitor beeped steadily, the sound unusually loud in the quiet room.

Lucie lay there, motionless on the bed, barely a whisper of life in her.

"Did she wake up?" he asked quietly.

The nurse, keeping her voice down, said, “Mr. Heath, she woke up once and had a little water. She's sleeping again."

Steven nodded, moving softly to the bedside.

Moonlight spilled through the window, lighting up her face and the thin, pale line of her neck above the bandage.

He reached out, hoping to touch her cheek like he had before, but his hand froze in midair.

It felt like all he ever did was mess things up. Being close to her only seemed to bring her more pain.

He'd never wanted to hurt her.

His phone buzzed in his pocket.

It was already three thirty in the morning. Another message from June: [Mr. Heath, I

can't sleep. I'm drunk again. I really want to hear your voice...]

Steven stared at the message, suddenly feeling nothing but annoyance.

He almost blocked her right then, but stopped. She might still come in handy someday.

“Enough,” he muttered, putting her on Do Not Disturb.

The room settled back into silence, just the beeping machines and Lucie's soft breathing.

Steven dragged over a chair and sat beside her, just watching.

He remembered when they first got married, how Lucie always snuggled up in his arms to watch movies. When things got emotional, she'd wipe her tears and look up at him. "Will we always be this happy?" she'd ask.

He'd always pinch her cheek and smile, promising, "Of course."

But now, he'd turned that "of course" into "never again."

He couldn't even remember when he stopped wanting a divorce.

"Lucie..." His voice was hoarse and shaky as he gently stroked her

this

"If I could do it over. I wish

wasn't how we ende wel

belongs to sŵnovels

But life doesn't give second chances. And even if it did, what about Bria?

He'd never thought she would wake up, not in a million years.

...

A little after eight in the morning, Lucie's eyelashes fluttered, and she slowly opened

her eyes.

Steven, who'd stayed up all night, leaned in, his voice soft and careful. “Lucie, you're awake."

She didn't look at him. Just stared at the ceiling, her eyes empty and cold, like a frozen lake.

"Are you thirsty?" Steven stood, about to pour her some water.

"... Go away, I don't want to see you Lucie's voice was barely more than a whisper, rough and broken from her injured throat, but it get straight through him.

Steven froze, feeling like he'd just been thrown into ice.

Lucie turned her head away, refusing to even glance at him.

"Lucie..." Steven tried to speak, but the words stuck in his throat. Nothing came out.

“Well..... get some rest. Cody's running a fever. I'll go check on him.”

Feeling like the life had been sucked out of him, Steven stood and left the room, his footsteps heavy and slow.

Why does it hurt so much?

He used to think he was heartless, almost incapable of feeling anything. He hadn't even cried when his father died.

The only reason Bria ever got close was because she'd risked everything

for him, taking hit after hit, even shielding him from over thirty stab Wounds

She'd given up so much, done things no one else would, until she finally warmed up

his frozen heart.

Of course, once he was moved, he'd never betray his feelings. He couldn't turn his back on Bria.

A while later, he went to the pediatric ward.

"How's Cody? Any better?" he asked.

The nurse, who'd been watching Cody carefully, replied, "Mr. Heath, his fever's gone

down a bit."

Steven finally felt a little relief.

He walked to the bed. "Hey, buddy. Still feeling sick?"

Cody looked tired and weak, a cooling patch stuck to his forehead.

"Daddy..."

Steven sat down on the edge of the bed and gently touched his son's forehead. “It's

okay, kiddo. Still feeling bad?"