Hospitals made me want to burn things down.


    Too many hands. Too many strangers touching what wasn’t theirs.


    I didn’t trust them. Not one nurse. Not one doctor. I supervised every time they gave her medication—watched the nurse uncap the vial, watched them press it into her IV. If they so much as blinked wrong, I corrected them. Emilia didn’t know that. She thought the staff was professional. Careful. She didn’t know the only reason I let them near her was because I was standing over them.


    Now I wasn’t in the room.


    Alexander was.


    And that made me want to kill someone.


    My phone buzzed again. Fourth time in five minutes. I didn’t even check the name before answering.


    “Numbers?” I snapped.


    The voice rattled off percentages. Import schedules. Syndicate crews dragging their feet.


    “Fix it,” I said, cutting them off. Then ended the call.


    Another buzz. This time from ck Vault security. A deal was runningte.


    “Handle it,” I told them. “Quiet.”


    I ended the call before they could answer.


    The hallway feed glowed on my other screen. Four angles on the door to her room. Alexander was still inside. His security lined the corridor, pretending they belonged here.


    I hated that I couldn’t hear the conversation. Hated that I wasn’t watching the nurse press the medication into her line. My grip tightened against the edge of the console.


    I could tap into her phone. Activate the microphone. I almost did it, opened the mirror app.


    But the door opened.


    Alexander stepped out, nked by four of his men. They didn’t look left or right, just moved as a wall down the corridor.


    My jaw locked.


    Every muscle in me tightened with the urge to break his teeth in. To cut out his tongue so he couldn’t say another word to her.


    The second the hall cleared, I was moving.


    I pushed into her room without knocking.


    Emilia was sitting half-upright, eyes too bright, the kind of brightness that came from holding back tears. She tried to smooth her expression when she saw me, but she couldn’t hide it.


    Fury tore through me. I should have listened.<fne70e> This update is avable on fι?dnοvel</fne70e>


    “Don’t,” I said, sharper than I meant.


    She blinked. “Don’t what?”


    “Pretend you’re fine.”


    Her lips parted, then closed. She looked away, but not before I saw the flicker—relief. She wasn’t pretending with me. Notpletely. It was progress.


    I crossed the room, set a coffee on the table beside her. My coffee. ck, hot, exactly how she drank it when she stole mine.


    Her fingers hesitated before reaching for it.


    “It’s weird,” she admitted softly. “Seeing you again. This much.”


    Something sharp cut through me. This much. Like she was still trying to measure me against distance.


    “You’ve had your medication?” I asked.


    She frowned. “I think so. They gave me something earlier.”


    Rage slid cold through my veins. She thinks. The staff didn’t even tell her what they pushed into her line.


    “It’s just painkillers, Luca. Don’t be too concerned.”


    Her tone was gentle, almost teasing, because she knew. She could read me as easily as she always had.


    “I’m worried about you,” I said, checking the temperature of her room on my phone.


    Dropped it by two degrees. Adjusted the airflow to keep it quiet. Anything to make sure she didn’t overheat and wake with a headache.


    She shifted, tried to sit up more, and I was already there. My hand at her back, steady, easing her higher against the pillows.


    “Luca…” she sighed. “You don’t have to be here every day.”


    “I do.”


    “You don’t owe me anything.”


    I ignored that. Adjusted the nket tighter. Made sure the IV line wasn’t pulling.


    Fussing, she’d call it. Necessary, I’d call it.


    Her eyes softened, but her mouth pressed into a line. “I’m going home tomorrow.”


    Cold mmed into me.


    “Home?”


    “The doctor says I’m well enough. My arm isn’t that bad.”


    I stared at her. She had no idea. No idea how ipetent they were. How easy it would be for her to miss a dose, for a nurse to slip the wrong vial, for something to go wrong when I wasn’t standing over them.


    “You think you’ll get the right care there?”


    “I’ll be fine,” she said gently. “It’s not as bad as it looks.”


    I leaned in, close enough that she couldn’t look away. “You won’t be fine. Not alone.”


    Her hand lifted. Soft. She touched my arm, grounding me the way no one else could. “Luca… you’re spiraling.”


    The words cut through.


    She said it like it wasn’t a w. And she wasn’t scared of the part of me that lived in spirals.


    “I’m okay,” she whispered.


    I shook my head. “You’re not. And you won’t be if you’re alone.”


    Silence pressed heavy between us. My chest ached with it.


    “Stay here. Ore with us. Anywhere but home by yourself.”


    She looked at me stunned as if she had heard me wrong.


    I didn’t care if it sounded like begging.


    “I can run an empire,” I said, voice raw, “but I can’t handle you walking out of my sight again.”


    Her hand stayed on my arm. Gentle in a way only she could be.


    And I hated myself for knowing she might still leave.


    “I won’t be alone,”


    It wasn’t just what she said it was the tone. It hit me in the gut. Final. The kind of tone that meant I wasn’t going to convince her to stay here. Or toe with us. She was going home—back to Alexander’s penthouse.


    Alexander.


    The iplete man who didn’t deserve to breathe the same air as her. Who sat at her bedside with four security like she needed his protection, when the only thing he’d ever protected was his own position. Worthless.


    I swallowed the anger, forced it into words. “Can we call you?”


    Her brows pulled together.


    “Or message you,” I added quickly. My chest felt too tight. It was absurd that this moment scared me more than half the wars I’d run. But it did. Because I already knew I couldn’t survive another three years of silence.


    “I don’t expect that. I’m fine.”


    “I’m not,” I cut back. “We’re not. We need to know you’re okay.”


    She sighed, eyes softening. “I don’t understand you.” The sentence trailed off. She pressed her lips together, then let out a breath. “But it’s been… nice. Seeing you again.”


    Nice.


    The word scraped like ss. Insulting. I didn’t want to be nice. Didn’t want to be a pleasantry she could file away with polite conversations and dynasty dinners. But it was better than hate.


    A better man would take thepliment. Smile. Leave it at that.


    But I wasn’t better.


    I touched her cheek, slow, my thumb tracing the soft curve of her cheekbone. My other hand cupped the other side of her face, tilting her toward me.


    “It’s been nice?” I repeated, voice low, dropping softer as I leaned in. “Really, baby… just nice?”


    She nodded, her beautiful big eyes locked with mine, “Don’t you agree it’s… nice to see each other again?”


    “Nice isn’t the word I’d use. No,” I smiled, but it wasn’t a smile. It was hunger. “It’s been oxygen.”


    Her eyes widened.


    “We’ve missed you,” I traced her cheek again, “But I wish it wasn’t like this. Not you hurt. Not a hospital bed.”


    “Let me guess… you had seven different ns of how we would?”


    “Not seven.” I moved slightly closer, my other hand moving to the back of her neck, “Endless. Until this.” I paused. “Until now.”


    “This…”


    I smiled, slow, because her nervous inhale gave her away. “You looking at me. Not through me.” My thumb stroked her neck, feeling her pulse. “We really fucking missed you, baby.”


    Her sigh broke soft, and her uninjured hand came to cover mine.


    “Bastion’s bringing your lunch today,” I said, softer, just to ground us both.


    She leaned a fraction closer. My chest tightened, because I wanted to read it as invitation—wanted to believe she was asking me to close the space, to kiss her.


    “Okay,” she whispered. “I’ll give you my new number.” Her fingers squeezed mine. “But no pressure. If you don’t use it… I don’t want you messaging me because you feel like you have to.”


    “Good girl,” I murmured, pressing a kiss against the side of her head.


    Her breath hitched. I felt it. Heard it. Blood rushed through me, proof I still affected her the way she’d always undone me.


    “Luca,” she said, my name soft.


    “Yeah, baby.”


    “Send a message. This time. Please.”


    My brow furrowed. I tilted her face back toward me.


    “When the friendship is over? You two are done. Send a message.”


    “Friendship?”


    “That’s what this is.” Her eyes didn’t leave mine. “A friendship.”


    It burned. Because this wasn’t friendship. This ended with her as our wife. But I smiled instead, indulging her. If it made it easier for her to let us back in her life.


    “Can I convince you to stay at our penthouse then—” I leaned closer, brushed her hair back, my other hand sliding off her neck, to the back of her neck. “—as a friend?”


    “I have to go home,”


    “Then I’ll call you every hour,” I murmured, thumb against her pulse. “Message every half hour.”


    She giggled, soft and unguarded, and I let myself breathe it in. God, I’d missed that sound. I kissed the side of her head again, slower this time, holding her in ce.


    Bastion walked in, he looked went from her to me, reading the air in a second.


    “We’re friends now,” I told him, dry.


    “Friends,” he repeated, as he walked toward us.


    Emilia’s fingers paused on my arm. “If you don’t want friends, I’m happy to take it back.”


    Bastion dragged a chair towards us, his hand sliding to her thigh. Fuck. It took everything inside me not to say what good girl she was to not pull away from us.


    “No. Friends work.” Bastion thumb traced her knee.


    We both knew it was one step closer to having our girl admitting she wants us back.