“I’ve fired the doctor and insisted that Tomas be Mom’s new primary,” Dad says. His voice has regained its usual commanding edge. He turns to Gabe.
Gabe looks like he hasn’t slept in days; his eyes are bloodshot, and his jaw is set in a hard line. “Where the fuck was the piece of shit we overpay to be on call?” he asks no one in particular, his voice vibrating with redirected rage.
“I don’t know,” I answer, feeling the exhaustion finally begin to pull at my limbs. “But I did the only thing I could.”
“You did the right thing.” Miles speaks up, his voice calm and steady. I see my father’s eye twitch at the sound of Miles’s voice, a flicker of irritation crossing his face. As for my brothers, I can’t tell what they’re thinking, and right now, I’m too tired to care.
“Miles,” my father says, his tone clipped but strangely resigned. “Please take my daughter home. She needs some rest.”
“Of course.” Miles doesn't hesitate. He reaches out, takes my hand, and leads me out of the room. I don't look back as we walk into the hall, leaving the chaos and the daggers behind us.
Miles
Chapter 32
We enter my apartmentin silence. She was somber for the entire ride from the hospital, her gaze fixed on the passing city lights without truly seeing them. My mind races back to a few hours ago when I was sitting in a business meeting in Chicago. The second she pushed that panic button at her parents' estate, my world shifted. I didn’t hesitate; I walked out and didn't look back. The drive to the airport and the flight back were a blur of adrenaline. I nearly lost my mind trying to get in contact with her, and the moment I confirmed which hospital they’d taken her mother to, I hacked into their security and medical systems.
Seeing her through those camera feeds. I’ve never been so fucking proud. She was strong. She was decisive. She called Tomas when her mother’s own doctor failed her. I wish I could have been there to hold her up, but in a way, this was something she needed to confront on her own, this deep-seated fear of ending up like her mother. It’s the reason she’s so rigorous with every checkup, the reason she panics at the slightest lapse in memory. She also needed to prove to herself that she’s capable of being there for Abigail.
I grab her hand now, my touch firm, and lead her into the ensuite. I don't ask; I just turn on the shower, the steam quickly filling the room. I undress her gently, her body limp with exhaustion, and guide her under the spray, then I soap the sponge and wash the hospital smell away.
When I arrived at that hospital and saw her curled up in the bed next to her mother, I felt physically sick. The vulnerability of it nearly broke me.
She lifts her face to mine, the water mingling with the fresh tears on her cheeks. “I was so scared,” she whispers. Then the dam breaks.
I pull her into my arms, letting the hot water pulse over both of us as she sobs into my chest. As I hold her, the weight of my own secrets feels like lead in my veins. I know, in this moment, that I would rather die than let her find out the truth about the photographs. The reality of what I’ve done, of what I’m hiding…it wouldn't just destroy her. It would destroyus. And that is a thought I simply can’t bear.
I dry her off and put her in my bed. This feels so natural, she and I. After a few minutes, the rhythm of her breathing changes, and I know she’s finally asleep. I take out my laptop and check on Abigail’s updated medical notes. Gabe’s name lights up her phone. When they walked into the hospital room, I thought I’d end up getting stabbed by Miguel. He’s not stupid; I know he sees this is more than me protecting her. My best friend looked horrible, and Ian, well, I’m sure he wants any excuse to draw blood.
It’s late, but I pull up my email and draft a message to Becca. Her sister owns a high-end boutique. I’ve noticed that Veronica hasn't shopped for a dress for Ian and Serena’s engagement party yet. If I know Abigail Kayde, she will find a way to be there. The party might be pushed back a couple of weeks, but Veronica will still need something to wear.
I hit send and glance back at her sleeping form. I'll do whatever it takes to keep her life seamless, even while I keep the darkest parts of mine hidden in the shadows.
Veronica managed a few hours of sleep, but the restlessness remains, so I drive her back toward the hospital. As I pull out of the parking garage and navigate the morning traffic, I see a difference in her. It’s as if a physical weight has been lifted from her shoulders. She looks lighter, steadier.
We enter the private room to find Tomas leaning over Abigail, his expression clinical. Miguel sits motionless beside the bed. As we walk in, together, the shift in the room is instantaneous. Miguel’s eyes narrow, but Abigail holds his hand; she’s his anchor. She looks past her husband's fury and simply smiles, her warmth filling the space between us.
Veronica breaks away from me, her movements fluid and purposeful as she reaches her mother’s side. “Mom, how are you feeling?” she asks, her voice soft. The change in Abigail is noticeable; the ghostly pale complexion is gone, replaced by a faint, healthy flush that makes the sterile room feel a little less cold.
“I’m much better,” Abigail says. “Tomas has been taking great care of me.”
I catch Tomas’s eye across the bed and offer a single, silent nod.Thank you.
“She’s responding well to the medication,” Tomas announces to the room in his professional tone. “I’d like to keep her here for another day or two, just to be sure.”
“Thank you, doctor,” Miguel says. He stands, the legs of his chair scratching against the linoleum, and jerks his chin toward the door. It’s not an invitation; it’s a command.
Tomas remains with the women while I follow Miguel into the hall. I’m prepared for a lecture, but I’m not prepared for the sudden surge of movement. As soon as the door shuts, Miguel turns and shoves me. My spine hits the wall with a dull thud, and he’s in my space, his forearm a heavy bar across my chest. Fuck, my ribs are still sore.
“What the hell is going on with you and my daughter?” he seethes, his breath hot against my face. “Is this how you protect her?”
I keep my hands at my sides. I owe him the restraint, for now, so I meet his dark, murderous stare with a level gaze. “You said it yourself, Miguel. She needs someone to stand next to her.”
His jaw tightens. He hates the taste of his own words. “Listen to me, you little shit. I know you, and I know exactly what you’re capable of. But I don’t think you have any idea whatI’mcapable of.”
I don’t flinch. I don’t pull away. I just let the silence sit between us until it turns cold. “Well, seeing as how close I am with your sons,” I say, my voice dropping with a dangerous edge, “I beg to differ.”
The standoff feels like an eternity. We are two mirrors reflecting the same capacity for violence. Finally, he exhales a sharp, jagged breath and shoves off me. He doesn't say another word as he pivots and disappears back into the room.
