Chapter 368
Chapter 368:
“He’ll pull through,” Alexander said, his fingers laced with hers. “Stefan’s free.”
Camille nodded without speaking. The image of Stefan leaping in front of her, taking the bullet meant for her chest, played on an endless loop in her mind. His body jerking backward. The surprised look in his eyes. The spreading red stain on his shirt.
“Why did he do it?” she whispered. “After everything…”
Alexander squeezed her hand. “He wanted to make things right. In the only way he could.”
Thunder rattled the windows. The storm that had masked their approach to the cabin now battered the hospital, as if nature itself shared their turmoil. Camille shivered, suddenly aware of her damp clothes and hair.
“Here,” Alexander said, draping his dry jacket over her shoulders. The warmth of it, the faint scent of his cologne, steadied her somehow.
“What did you say to Rose?” she asked. “When they pulled her from the water?”
Alexander’s jaw tightened. “I told her that no matter what happened with Stefan, she would spend the rest of her life paying for what she’d done. That no judge would show mercy once they saw what she did to you. To the people at the gala. That her story was over.”
Camille had never heard such coldness in his voice, not even during their confrontation with Herod Preston months ago. It should have frightened her, but instead, she felt oddly comforted by his ferocity.
“Miss Kane?” A doctor appeared, still wearing his surgical cap. Camille and Alexander jumped to their feet. “You’re listed as Mr. Rodriguez’s emergency contact.”
“Yes,” Alexander said. “This is Camille Kane, his…” He hesitated.
“Former wife,” Camille finished for him. “How is he?”
The doctor looked between them. “The surgery is ongoing. The bullet missed his heart but damaged major blood vessels. He’s lost a lot of blood. We’re doing everything we can, but I need to be honest, it’s going to be touch and go.”
Camille swayed, the room tilting beneath her feet. Alexander’s arm went around her waist, holding her upright.
“Is there anyone else we should contact?” the doctor asked. “Family?”
“His parents are in Madrid,” Alexander said. “I’ve tried reaching them, but…” A commotion at the waiting room entrance cut him off. Margaret and Richard Lewis burst through the doors, rain-soaked and worried.
“Camille!” her mother cried, rushing forward. She stopped short, taking in her daughter’s bloody clothes and bruised face. “Oh my God, baby…”
Richard stood behind his wife, his face pale with concern. “We came as soon as Alexander called. Is Stefan…?”
“Still in surgery,” Camille said, her voice cracking. “He took a bullet for me.”
Margaret’s eyes filled with tears. Without hesitation, she pulled Camille into an embrace. Unlike the awkward, tentative hugs of their recent meetings, this one felt real— a mother’s genuine concern for her child.
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