Chapter 113
Lena's POV
They walked out together, Isabelle’s hand resting briefly on my shoulder as she passed. The door clicked shut behind them, and the room seemed to grow larger, the silence settling in around me.
I turned toward the window. Outside, Silverton's downtown glittered—towers of glass and steel catching the last of the sunset, car lights streaming along the interstate like blood through veins. The city that never stopped moving, never slowed down.
He was terrified.
Emily's words again, sliding under my defenses when I was too tired to push them away.
I closed my eyes. Breathed deep. Forced my mind toward safer ground—the stack of cases waiting at the office, Diana's housing discrimination trial next week, the data Alexander was recovering from Marcus's phone.
Anything but the image of Rowan in that ambulance, his hand wrapped around mine, his voice breaking when he thought I couldn't hear.
"Don't," I whispered to the empty room. "Don't do this to yourself."
I turned toward the wall, pulling the blanket higher over my shoulders. The cotton was scratchy, nothing like the sheets at Lakeview Estate. Good. I needed the reminder that this—this sterile hospital room, this solitude—was my reality now.
Not him. Not anymore.
But my heartbeat was loud in the silence, and sleep felt impossibly far away.
---
Morning came with Emily's arrival at precisely 8:00 AM, carrying two cups of good coffee and a determined expression.
"Brought reinforcements," she announced, setting one cup on my tray table. "You look like you need it."
I did. Sleep had been fractured, full of dreams I couldn't quite remember but that left me exhausted anyway.
At nine, Diana arrived with Rachel and Sophia trailing behind. Rachel's eyes were red-rimmed before she even reached the bed.
"Lena." She grabbed my hand, her grip tight. "God, you scared us. I should have—I should have come with you. I should have known something was wrong when Nora—"
"Rachel." I squeezed back, gentler. "This isn't on you."
Diana set down a bouquet of white roses—my favorites, somehow they all knew—and a handmade card covered in messages. Get well soon! We miss you! The office isn't the same without you.
"Nora Kane is going to pay for this," Diana said flatly. "I don't care who her family is or what lawyers she hires. What she did—"
"She will." I kept my voice steady. "The DA already has everything they need."
Sophia hovered near the foot of the bed, uncharacteristically quiet. Finally: "When you're out, we're doing a team dinner. Celebration of you being okay. No arguments."
I felt something crack in my chest—the good kind of crack, the kind that lets light in.
"Deal," I said.
They stayed another half hour, filling the room with chatter about pending cases and office gossip and everything that had nothing to do with drugs or hotel rooms or fathers who wanted me destroyed. When they finally left, Rachel hugged me so hard I could barely breathe.
"Don't scare us like that again," she whispered.
I promised I'd try.
An hour later, the doctor came by with a nurse in tow. He checked my vitals, reviewed my bloodwork results, asked me a series of questions I answered automatically.
"Everything looks good," he said finally. "Liver and kidney function normal, all traces of the drug metabolized. You can be discharged this afternoon, but take it easy for the next week. No strenuous activity."
"Understood."
The nurse helped me gather my things—the flowers, the card, the clothes Emily had brought from my apartment. I changed slowly, my body still feeling not quite my own, and signed the discharge papers with a hand that only trembled a little.
By two PM, I was ready to leave.
---
The hospital lobby was bright with afternoon sun, all glass and polished floors and the constant flow of people coming and going. I walked beside Emily toward the exit, focusing on each step, on the weight of the bag over my shoulder, on anything but the figure I spotted near the doors.
Rowan.
He stood by the main entrance in a navy suit that probably cost more than my monthly rent, his expression unreadable but his posture alert. Waiting.
My stomach dropped.
Then I saw Alexander on the opposite side of the lobby, and my breath steadied.
"Thanks for calling him," I murmured to Emily.
"Figured you'd want options." She squeezed my arm. "I'll be right here."
I walked toward Alexander, watching relief flash across his face as I approached. But his eyes cut sideways—toward Rowan—and his smile went tight.
"Lena." He started to lean in, then caught himself, maintaining a careful distance. "How are you feeling?"
"Better." I moved closer, lowering my voice. "Did you get anything from the phone?"
His gaze flicked toward Rowan again, and I saw him swallow. "Some of it. The recovery's partial, but there's—" He glanced over my shoulder. "Now's not the best time to get into it."
"Why not?"
"Because—" He gestured vaguely behind me. "—I'm pretty sure Rowan's planning my murder if I stand too close to you right now."
I turned. Rowan was indeed watching us, his expression carved from ice.
"He can plan whatever he wants," I said. "What did you find?"
But before Alexander could answer, Rowan closed the distance between us in three long strides.
"Mr. Pierce." His voice was cordial, his presence anything but. "Thank you for checking on Lena."
Alexander took an involuntary step back. "I was just—"
"Leaving," Rowan finished. He shifted slightly, positioning himself between us. "Lena needs rest, not visitors crowding her the second she's discharged."
"I'm not crowding—"
Rowan's expression didn't change, but something in his eyes did. "She's been through enough. I'm sure you understand."
The air felt thin. I watched Alexander's throat work, watched him glance at me like he wanted to argue but couldn't quite manage it. The memory of whatever Rowan had said to him weeks ago was clearly still fresh.
"Maybe we should talk later," Alexander said to me, apologetic. "When you've had time to recover."
"Alexander—"
"He's right." Alexander was already backing away. "You need rest. And honestly, Marcus is still out there. Rowan's security team is—" He made a vague gesture. "—probably better equipped than I am to keep you safe."
My hands clenched. "That's not the point—"
But he was already retreating toward the doors, offering a weak wave before disappearing into the parking lot.