Chapter 49 Being His Strength
London is beautiful, but nothing could have prepared me for Lawrence's house.
It's a penthouse, just like the one he's staying in back in New York, except this one isn't rented. It's his. And it's even more breathtaking.
His home office here is on another level.
The room is filled with sleek screens, powerful servers, and cutting-edge tech. Systems that look like they could watch over the entire city.
It is a lot.
The sheer volume of technology is overwhelming, yet what leaves me breathless and impressed is the fact that he knows how to operate every single thing in here.
I've never been prouder to be dating someone so brilliant and powerful. It's killing me that I can't show him off to the world yet. I'd flaunt him in a heartbeat.
And don't even get me started on the private jet that flew us here.
Even that still feels surreal.
Now we're on our way to the hospital to see his mother, and my nerves are simmering.
This is the first time I've ever seen Lawrence drive. Back in New York, Elias usually takes him everywhere, but Lawrence gave him time off until we return.
Watching him in a casual sweater and jeans, his expensive watch glinting on his wrist as he drives through the London streets, is very attractive.
I'm dressed simply too, in jeans and a simple, flowery top… trying to look calm even though my heart wants to leap out of my throat.
"Baby, I can almost hear your heart beating," Lawrence says, glancing over with a soft smile. "Relax."
"I'm just… I've never been introduced to anyone's mother before. My past relationships never lasted long enough for that."
He nods like he understands, and I squint at him. "Why are you nodding like you already knew that?"
Lawrence huffs out a laugh. "Get over yourself, Miss Thorn."
I smile and sink deeper into the leather seat, feeling a little lighter.
The hospital is massive and impeccably equipped, which is what I'd expect from someone with Lawrence's resources.
He takes my hand as we walk in together.
His sister, Laura, meets us first. I'd never really noticed it before, but she looks so much like him, both in height and elegant features.
"Lawrence!" She rushes into his arms, her eyes already glistening with tears. He holds her gently, patting the back of her head with affection. When she pulls back, she turns to me and wraps me in a hug, too.
"Hi, you must be Scarlett," she says warmly. "I'm Laura. It's so lovely to finally meet you."
"Hi, Laura," I reply, smiling. "It's lovely to meet you too."
Her expression softens, but her arms fold across her chest. "Okay… she's awake, but she's weak. And she's in one of those moments again where she doesn't remember anyone."
A flash of pain crosses Lawrence's face before he quickly hides it. I squeeze his arm gently, letting him know I'm right here.
We walk into the private room together.
His mother is sitting up in bed, looking so heartbreakingly frail, her body worn down by the toll of dementia and her fatal kidney condition.
Must be really tough being in that condition.
A lunch tray sits on the cabinet beside her. She looks up as we enter, her eyes wary and confused.
Laura takes a seat quietly while Lawrence and I approach.
The older woman tenses. "Who are you?" she asks weakly, her voice filled with distrust and panic.
Lawrence freezes. For the first time, I realise he's at a loss for words.
I can see the heartbreak etched across his face, the pain clear in his eyes. So I step in gently, bending slightly so I don't tower over her.
"Hi," I say softly. "I'm Scarlett, and this is Lawrence. We're friends."
She studies us suspiciously for a moment, then her gaze drops to the delicate peony print on my blouse.
"Pretty," she murmurs.
I glance down and smile. "Yes, they are. I love peonies, but white roses are my favourite."
Her interest sparks. It's evident in the way she shifts in bed.
"Do you have a favourite flower?" I ask gently.
She thinks for a second, then nods. "Lilies."
"Oh, those are lovely." I coo. "My mother loves lilies too."
Her eyes begin to brighten. "Tell me about her," she says, taking my hand in her fragile one.
I pull a chair closer and sit beside her.
Behind me, I hear Lawrence quietly turn and walk out of the room.
I want to go after him immediately because I can't even start to imagine how he feels watching his mother die and not even remember him, but she's looking at me so eagerly waiting for me to speak, and I can't break her poor heart that way.
So I tell her about my mother and how she always keeps fresh lilies in a vase by the window so their scent can fill the room.
Lawrence's mother listens with rapt attention, her frail fingers still wrapped around mine.
The fog of her dementia seems to lift for a spark of real connection in the few minutes I talk to her.
She even laughs for a few moments.
But her energy fades quickly. Her eyelids grow heavy, her answers slower, until her head begins to drift toward the pillow.
"You should rest now," I whisper, gently squeezing her hand. "I'll come back and tell you more another time."
She gives a little nod before sleeping off.
I stand up quietly. Laura rises too, and we step outside the room together.
Her eyes are misty as she looks at me. "It's been a long time since she's been that excited about anything," she says. "Our mother doesn't usually engage like that anymore. Thank you, Scarlett."
Before I can respond, she pulls me into a tight hug. I hug her back.
It's strange, but it's almost like I can feel the weight she carries as Lawrence's sister… the shared grief, the endless hospital visits, the slow goodbye they're both living through.
When we pull apart, she gives me a weak smile. "He should be just down the hall. Check the private waiting room on the left."
I nod. "Thank you."
Then I make my way there.
Lawrence stands by the large window, backing the door. His shoulders are tense.
I don't call to him; I simply walk up behind him, press my chest to his back, and wrap my arms around his waist, holding him close.
He stiffens for half a second, then exhales deeply and leans into me.
His hand comes up to cover both of mine, where they rest over his heart.
"Scarlett, I hate it," he says, his voice low and rough with pain. "I hate seeing her not know who I am." A bitter sound that's almost a laugh leaves his throat.
"I've got all this money for what?" His voice nearly cracks on the question. "I can buy the best care in the world, fly the top specialists here, and it still doesn't matter. She's slipping away, Scarlett. Piece by fucking piece."
I tighten my arms around him, resting my cheek against his back. "I know, baby. I know."
He turns slowly in my embrace until we were facing each other. His green eyes are full of so much vulnerability.
This is the same powerful, brilliant man who can command rooms and run empires.
But now, he's just the frightened son who's losing his mother. And he's letting me see it.
Pulling me closer, he buries his face in my hair and holds me tight.
We stay like that for a long time while I rub his back and whisper comforting words to him.
This is what we do for each other. We show up in the hardest moments.
He was there for me through the storm I'd faced. Now I can be here for him.
Now I can be his rock.
I can't heal his mother, but I can heal him.
Even if it's just by holding him while he falls apart.