The cops finally escorted Chole out of the room, still screaming.

Then, me and Alexander were brought into the hospital.

Alexander was wheeled into a separate ward while in my ward, Ethan stayed with me, and Ava slept outside the room on a

bench.

I was left with Ethan, seated on the edge of my hospital bed, too

close forfort, too far for forgiveness.

The room settled into silence.

I shifted slightly on the bed, feeling the IV tug at my arm. “You

don’t have to stay,” I said quietly. It was the first thing I’d said to

him all night. My tone was t. Dry. Like the words belonged to

someone else.

Ethan didn’t flinch. His voice was rough from disuse. “I want to.

I mean there’s no one at home. And Ava’s sleeping.” He

shrugged, forcing a weak smile. “You need someone to look

after the small things.”

I turned my face toward him, studying his features. There was

no smugness, no pleading, no anger. Just fatigue. And maybe

regret as well.

?? ??? ?

But I didn’t trust regret anymore.

I stared at him for a few quiet seconds, searching for something

I couldn’t name–and didn’t find.

Then I closed my eyes.

And said nothing else.

Author’s POV

Ethan sat by Olivia’s hospital bed, unmoving. His head rested lightly beside her arm, close enough to feel the steady rise and fall of her breathing. Her hospital gown rustled faintly as she

shifted slightly in her sleep, but her eyes didn’t open.

Tears had dried on his cheeks more than once tonight, only to

be reced by new ones, warmer, heavier. His forehead leaned

against her arm as if by staying close, he could dy the

inevitable. As if the passing hours wouldn’t steal this moment

from him too.

This wasn’t the Ethan the world knew. Not the arrogant alpha,

nor the poised heir to the Hawthrone family. Tonight, he was

just a man who had failed. A man who’d promised to protect the

woman he loved–only to be the very reason she ended up

bruised and nearly burned alive.

He didn’t speak ia /iword all night. There was no apology that

could patch the wreckage between them. No grand exnation

bChapter /b24

that could erase the years of betrayal, of pain he’d brought binto /b

her life. And Olivia… Olivia had already said it all in silence.

Earlier, when she told him tly that he could leave, she didn’t

raise her voice. She didn’t cry. She didn’t even look angry.

That expressionless tone hurt more than all her past

usationsbined.

Ethan had watched her sleep, jaw clenched to stop it from

trembling. He hadn’t slept. Not even for a moment. Every time he blinkedi, /ia memory surfaced. Herughing in the rain, her brushing flour from her cheek while baking, her tugging his tie

to kiss him goodbye before work.

He had memorized her expressions over the years, but tonight

he couldn’t read her anymore.

He turned his gaze to her hand, resting lightly atop the nket.

There were faint red marks near her wrist–remnants of the

duct tape Chole had used. Rage welled up again, but there was

no one to direct it at now. Chole was in custody, and Olivia…

Olivia had already paid too much.

His fingers twitched at his side. He wanted to hold her hand,

just once. Just to feel the warmth again, just to remind himself

that she was still here.

But he didn’t.

Because he knew that this time, Olivia wouldn’t hold it bback/bb. /b

He thought of the countless second chances she’d given him. How many times she had swallowed her pride, softened her voice, made the first move. And what had he done in return?

He hadn’t just hurt her. He’d left her defenseless.

Ethan leaned back slowly in the chair, exhausted and hollow. His eyes scanned her face onest time. She was healing. There were bruises beneath her eyes, and her lips were dry, but she looked peaceful. Too peaceful to be disturbed by his selfish need

for closure.

The sun had begun to seep in through the blinds, casting soft

gold across the bed sheets. Morning hade. The night was

over.

Ethan stood quietly, careful not to rouse Ava, who was still curled on the couch. He adjusted Olivia’s nket gently, fingers

lingering for just a moment before pulling back.

He knew this was thest time he’d be this close.

He longed to bend down and kiss her forehead. To whisper that

he was sorry. That he would carry this guilt to his grave.

But he didn’t.

He just looked at her. Onest time.

And left.

The hallway outside was colder than he remembered. His

footsteps echoed down the corridor, each one heavier than the pst.