CHAPTER 34: CHAPTER 34 FEVER DREAMS

Ryan’s POV

I stumble through the doorway of the Blackwood mansion, my head spinning with alcohol and rejection.

The grand foyer seems to tilt around me, marble floors gleaming mockingly under the chandelier light.

Simon rushes forward to steady me, his concerned face blurring before my eyes.

"Mr. Blackwood, you’re burning up," he says, pressing a hand to my forehead.

I push him away, swaying dangerously. "I’m fine."

But I’m not fine. The cold night air after leaving Serena’s apartment has seeped into my bones, mingling with the whiskey in my system.

My thoughts are a jumbled mess of her defiant eyes, her trembling lips after our kiss, and the wall she’s built between us.

"Sir, please let me call the doctor," Simon insists, hovering nearby as I drag myself toward the staircase.

The grand staircase suddenly looks impossibly steep. My legs give way beneath me, and the world goes dark.

---

Voices float around me in fragments. A needle prick in my arm. Cool cloth on my forehead. The clinical smell of antiseptic.

"...temperature of 104..."

"...needs intravenous fluids..."

"...should we inform Mrs. Blackwood—former Mrs. Blackwood?"

My throat feels raw, words escaping without permission as the fever consumes me.

"Serena..." Her name tears from my lips like a prayer. "Don’t go... please don’t go..."

Through the haze, I sense movement around me, hushed conversations I can’t quite grasp.

My mind drifts between consciousness and delirious dreams where Serena stands just beyond my reach, always turning away when I call her name.

Not once do I call for Sophie.

The realization filters dimly through my fever—the woman I thought I couldn’t live without has faded from my thoughts, replaced entirely by the one who walked away.

---

I wake to the sterile whiteness of a hospital room, an IV drip attached to my arm and the steady beep of monitors.

My head pounds mercilessly, but the fog has cleared. The digital clock on the wall shows it’s been nearly two days since I collapsed.

Simon sits in the corner, working quietly on his tablet. He looks up immediately when I stir.

"Welcome back, sir," he says, relief evident in his voice. "How are you feeling?"

"Like hell," I rasp, my throat raw. "Water."

He quickly brings a cup with a straw, helping me sit up slightly to drink. The cool liquid is heaven against my parched throat.

"The doctor says the fever has broken," he explains, setting the cup aside. "You developed pneumonia from exposure. They want to keep you another day for observation."

I nod, too exhausted to argue.

My thoughts immediately turn to Serena—does she know? Would she care if she did?

The memory of her pushing me away, the contempt in her voice when she threatened to call the police, cuts deeper than any physical pain.

Yet I remember the way she responded to my kiss, however briefly. The contradiction gives me hope, however slim.

How could I get her back? Would flowers work? No, too generic. A grand gesture? She’d see through that immediately. Maybe I could—

The door to my room swung open, interrupting my thoughts.

Ivy Hart slipped in, wearing a concerned expression that didn’t reach her eyes. Her perfectly styled blonde hair and immaculate outfit looked out of place against the clinical backdrop.

"Ryan, I came as soon as I heard!" she exclaimed, rushing to my bedside. "Are you alright? Should I call for a better doctor?"

My stomach churned at the sight of her. This woman—had been at the center of so much pain between Serena and me.

How many times had she whispered poison in my ear about Serena? How often had I believed her over the woman I married?

"Get out." My voice is quiet but hard as steel.

She blinked, feigning confusion. "What? But Ryan—"

"I said get out." I push myself up straighter, ignoring the pain that shoots through my chest. "I have no interest in seeing you, today or any other day."

Her face contorts, the mask of concern dropping completely. "You can’t speak to me that way! Sophie—"

I laugh coldly, the sound echoing harshly in the sterile room. "Simon, please escort Ms. Hart out. And make sure security knows she’s not to be admitted again."

Simon steps forward immediately, professional as always despite the awkward situation. "Ms. Hart, if you’ll come with me."

"This is outrageous!" She screeches, throwing the flowers down. "You’ll regret this, Ryan! I’ll be telling my sister about this in my dreams."

I heard those words and suppressed the smirk threatening to surface.

Ivy’s ‘dreaming of Sophie’ stunt was nothing new—it was the same tired play she’d pulled time and again, trying to get under my skin.

But it didn’t work anymore.

When Simon returns minutes later, he looks slightly disheveled but satisfied. "She’s been escorted from the premises, Mr. Blackwood."

I nod, sinking back against the pillows. "Should I inform Ms. Quinn about your condition?" he asks hesitantly.

The question strikes a raw nerve. Would Serena come if she knew? Would she sit beside my bed, worry etched on her beautiful face?

Or would she simply shrug and continue with her day, unmoved by my suffering?

"No," I finally answer, staring at the ceiling. "She wouldn’t come anyway."

"I wouldn’t be so certain about that."

The unexpected voice makes both Simon and me snap our heads toward the doorway. My grandmother stands there, elegant as always in her tailored suit, disapproval radiating from every pore.

"Grandmother," I acknowledge, suddenly feeling like a scolded child despite being CEO of a multinational corporation.

"Simon, give us a moment," she commands, and he immediately excuses himself.

She approaches my bed slowly, assessing me with critical eyes that miss nothing. "So you’re still fighting with your wife?"

My heart skips a beat. She doesn’t know. Of course she doesn’t - I never told her about the divorce, couldn’t bear to face her disappointment.

"Something like that," I manage, averting my eyes.

"Look at me when I’m speaking to you, boy." The command in her voice has me meeting her gaze automatically.

"What foolishness have you been up to now? I heard you calling her name in your delirium. The nurses told me you were quite... distressed."

Heat rushes to my face. "It’s complicated, Grandmother."

"Marriage always is. But that doesn’t explain why you’re here alone, burning with fever, while your wife is nowhere to be seen." Her eyes narrow. "What have you done to that poor girl?"

The question hits like a physical blow. What haven’t I done? How do I even begin to list my failures?

"I... I didn’t trust her. I believed others over her. I was cold when she needed warmth. Absent when she needed presence."

The admissions pour out of me, each one a knife twisting in my gut.

"I treated her like she was disposable when she was the most precious thing in my life."

My grandmother’s expression doesn’t change, but I see a flicker of disappointment in her eyes that cuts deeper than any reprimand.

"The Blackwood men have always been fools when it comes to matters of the heart."

She says finally. "Your grandfather was the same - stubborn as a mule, blind to his own faults. It took him years to realize what was right in front of him."

She reaches out, her hand surprisingly strong as it grips mine. "But you, Ryan... you always were quicker to learn than he was. Fix this. Before it’s too late."

"I’m trying," I admit, the words painful in their honesty.

"And?"

"It’s not working."

Grandmother sighs, patting my hand before pulling away. "Rest now. Recover your strength. You’ll need it if you’re to win her back."

She stands, smoothing down her impeccable suit. "A Blackwood never gives up on what truly matters. Remember that."

As she leaves, I stare at the ceiling, her words echoing in my mind. A Blackwood never gives up. And Serena matters more than anything.

I close my eyes, determination hardening within me. I’ve made countless mistakes, but giving up on Serena won’t be one of them. When I leave this hospital, I’ll have a plan. A real one, not a desperate, drunken plea.

I’m getting her back. No matter what it takes.