“What kind of complications?” Dev asks.
I lift an eyebrow at him. “I don’t know yet. That’s why I need you on standby.”
Priya clears her throat. “Adriana, I have to say, I had no idea you were seeing anyone. You never mentioned dating. At all.”
“I’m a private person, Priya. You know that.” I hold her gaze. “Some things I keep to myself.”
She nods slowly, clearly not convinced, but smart enough to drop it.
“What do you need from us?” Sarah asks.
“Business as usual. Don’t let the vultures smell blood in the water. If anyone asks about my personal life, the answer is ‘we’re thrilled for Adriana.’ If they push for details, direct them to Jayne.”
“And the press release Patrick wanted?” Devin asks.
“Tabled. For now. We’ll make an announcement after the ceremony. On our terms, not theirs.”
Patrick frowns but doesn’t argue. Smart man.
“Anything else?” I ask.
Nobody speaks. They just shake their heads.
“Good. Then we’re done here. I’ll be reachable by phone and email, as always. If there’s an emergency, Jayne knows how to find me.”
I stand up and they all follow. The meeting is over.
Sarah catches my arm as I head for the door. “Adriana. Are you okay? Really?”
I look at her. Sarah’s been with me since the beginning. She’s seen me fight for every inch of this company. Seen me win battles that should have broken me.
“I will be,” I say. “I don’t have a choice.”
She squeezes my arm for a second, then lets go. She doesn’t say anything else.
She doesn’t have to.
The hospital is eerily quiet at this hour.
I’ve been here every day since the gala. I walk the same hallways, take the same elevator to the ICU, walk past the samenurses’ station where they now recognize me and greet me by name.
Dad’s private room is at the end of the hall. A guard is always stationed outside, a reminder that even in a coma, he’s still a target.
I push open the door and stop short when I see Mom sitting at his bedside.
She looks up, startled, rosary beads wrapped around her fingers.
“Hey, Mom.”
She manages a smile. Her eyes are red-rimmed, but she’s not crying anymore. She’s past crying. We all are.
“Adriana.” She holds out her hand. “Come sit with me.”
I cross the room and sink into the chair beside her. For a moment, we just sit there, looking at my father’s motionless form.
“I’m glad you’re here,” she says softly.
“I come every day.” I pause. “Even though I’m still so angry at him for this whole sham marriage contract.”
