<b>Chapter 217 </b>


    -HUNTER POV-


    My phone would not stop ringing.


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    I ignored it, staring at the glowing screen on my desk. Call after call…investors, reporters, old business partners…..all wanting to know the same thing. The story was everywhere now.


    ‘Hunter Reid’s wife Celine rushed to the Hospital After a Mysterious ident.’


    I gripped my pen so tightly that it snapped in my hand. I didn’t even flinch at the ink staining my fingers.


    How had the media gotten this? Who dared leak it? It didn’t matter. I wanted it gone.


    “Make it disappear,” I said tly into the phone. Vincent was on the other end.


    “I’m already working on it,” he replied, calm as ever. “But it spread fast. Gossip sites, tabloids–half of them won’t care aboutwsuits. They’ll want the clicks.”


    “I don’t care how much it costs.” My voice was ice. “Take it down. Every single one. I don’t want Celine seeing any of it. She doesn’t need more poison in her life.”


    There was silence for a moment. Then Vincent said, “There’s more. Edward ckwood has been calling nonstop. He wants a private meeting.”


    The sound of that name ripped through my chest.


    Edward ckwood.


    The father of the woman who had destroyed everything.


    My jaw locked. My voice turned cold enough to freeze. “If I haven’t made myself clear before, let me make it clear now. I want the ckwoods erased. Buy their shares. Pull their partners. Cut their funding. By the end of this month, I don’t want their name anywhere in this city. Am I understood?”


    Vincent did not argue. “Understood.”


    I leaned back in my chair, rubbing my temples. My body ached with exhaustion, but my mind would not rest. Nothing would ever be enough to pay for what we had lost. Not when I kept seeing Celine’s face, wet with tears, screaming at me in the hospital. ming me.


    Flinching from my touch. My chest tightened until I could barely breathe.


    “Are you <b>eating </b>at all?<b>” </b>Vincent asked carefully. “Resting?<b>” </b>


    I gave no reply.


    “Hunter,” he pressed, voice lowering. <b>“</b>If you fall sick, or worse, it won’t help her. It will destroy her. You know that, right? Don’t punish yourself until you’re gone too.”


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    My throat burned. I thought of Celine sobbing, pushing my hands away. Thought of the little body we had lost before it even had a chance to breathe. My daughter.


    “Maybe she’s better off without me,” I whispered.


    Vincent’s sharp inhale cut through the line. “Don’t say that. She doesn’t mean what she said. She’s in pain. She’s grieving. That doesn’t mean she doesn’t love you.”


    I said nothing. I didn’t know what I believed anymore. Because the truth was simple: a world without Celine was not a world I wanted to live in.


    When the call ended, I buried my face in my hands. My shoulders trembled though no tears came. My body was too tired even for that.


    A small sound made me lift my head. At the doorway, a shadow stood. Pajamas, messy hair<b>, </b>clutching a green dinosaur teddy to his chest.


    Caesar.


    I straightened, forcing a smile onto my face though my heart cracked wider. “Hey, little man.”


    Caesar padded toward me on small feet. His big blue eyes were wet and worried. “Daddy…where is Mommy?”


    I swallowed hard. I bent down and lifted Caesar into myp, his little body warm and soft against me. “Mommy got a little hurt, so the nice doctors are helping her get better.”


    “Will shee home?” Caesar whispered.


    “Yes,” I said, my voice breaking. “Yes, she will. Once the doctors are finished, she’lle home.”


    Caesar’s bottom lip trembled. “Can we go see her? Please? I miss Mommy.”


    I pressed a kiss to his hair. “I miss her too. And yes–we’ll go see her tomorrow.”


    That night, Caesar and I stayed in the kitchen together. I tried to remember how to measure flour, how to mix sugar and butter. Caesar was covered in white dust within minutes,ughing when he spilled half the bowl, but I didn’t scold him. I onlyughed too, even though my chest still ached.


    “We’re making Mommy’s favorite cookies,” Caesar said proudly, holding up the lumpy dough with sticky hands.


    “Yes,” I said softly, kissing his forehead. “She’ll love them.”


    The next morning, I was strapping Caesar into the backseat of the car when my phone buzzed again. My mother. Eleanor. I ignored it. <fn8131> ?? ??? ???? ?? ???? ???? ???????s, ????s? ??s?? FindN0vel</fn8131>


    It buzzed again, this time Caroline. My cousin, calling from Greece. I sighed and picked up. “Caroline.”


    Her voice was urgent. “Hunter, I just saw the news. What happened? <b>Is </b>Celine okay?”


    I gripped the steering wheel. For once, I told the truth. “She’s….not okay. She’s alive. But she lost the baby.”


    <b>19:01 </b><b>Mon</b><b>, </b><b>Sep </b>15


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    Caroline gasped. “Oh, my God. Hunter, I’m booking the next flight back. I don’t care if I’m on my honeymoon. Frederick won’t mind…..”


    “No,” I cut her off. “Stay. I’m handling it. I don’t want you here for this. I don’t want you to see her like this.”


    Caroline’s voice cracked. “Hunter, don’t shut people out. She needs you. You need support too<i>.” </i>


    “I said I’m handling it.” My tone was final.


    I ended the call before she could argue. I looked at Caesar in the rearview mirror. The boy was humming to himself, holding the basket of misshapen cookies proudly on hisp.


    My throat tightened. I drove in silence.


    At the hospital, a doctor pulled me aside before I could go into Celine’s room. “Mr. Reid, your wife is healing well physically. But emotionally…it will take time. She may need therapy. Perhaps a couple counseling for both of you.”


    My face hardened. “No. I don’t need therapy.”


    The doctor studied me. “Are you sure? Often the spouse is just as affected. Sometimes even more. You can’t bury grief and expect it to disappear.”


    I said nothing. I turned away and walked to the VIP ward.


    Inside, Sally was sitting by Celine’s bed, knitting with tired hands. She quickly stood when I entered, but I shook my head. “Please, don’t stress yourself.”


    My eyes went to the bed. Celiney there, thinner already, her face pale and fragile, lips pressed tightly as though even breathing was painful. She hadn’t eaten. She hadn’t spoken.


    “How is she?” I asked quietly.


    Sally sighed. “She hasn’t touched food. She hasn’t said a word. She just… exists.”


    My chest twisted. I motioned to Caesar. “Go say hello to Mommy.”


    The boy nodded eagerly. He carried the basket to the bed, standing on his toes. “Mommy,” he said, his voice hopeful. “Look, I made cookies for you.”


    Celine’s eyes opened slowly. She looked at him. For a moment, I prayed. But then she turned her face away to the other side.


    Caesar froze, clutching the basket. His small face crumpled with confusion. “Mommy?” he whispered again.


    My heart cracked wide open. I knelt beside my son. “Sally,” I said hoarsely. “Please take Caesar outside.”


    The old woman nodded, gently leading the boy away. Caesar kept ncing back at his mother, eyes full of


    tears<b>. </b>


    The door closed. The silence pressed down like a weight.


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    I moved closer to the bed. My voice trembled. “Celine.”


    No answer. I reached for her hand, then stopped midair, afraid she would flinch again.


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    I lowered my voice to a whisper. “I don’t know how to fix this. I don’t know how to take away your pain. But I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. Even if you hate me. Even if you can’t look at me.”


    My voice broke, and I pressed my forehead against the edge of the bed. “I’m so sorry.” The silence swallowed my words whole.


    Celine didn’t move.


    I stayed there anyway. Because even if she never forgave me, I would not leave her. Not ever.