Chapter 41 LIFE AND DEATH
POV: Selena
The vending machine ate my money and did nothing.
I stood there pressing the return lever again, harder this time, like force might make it listen. I wanted caffeine. I wanted something warm in my hands that wasn’t fear. Behind me, the waiting room hummed with hospital sounds that refused to fade into the background.
Monitors beeping somewhere down the hall. Shoes squeaking. A woman crying softly into her phone.
I gave up on the machine and leaned my forehead against the cool glass for a second too long.
Richard De Luca was in surgery because of a war I had helped bring into his home. That thought kept circling, no matter how many times I tried to shut it down.
Adrian sat across the room, elbows on his knees, hands clasped so tightly his knuckles had gone white. He had not moved in nearly an hour. Every time the double doors at the end of the corridor opened, his head snapped up.
Victoria sat beside him, posture straight, spine rigid with effort. She looked like someone holding herself together through sheer will. Bella paced near the windows, phone in her hand, not looking at it. Marcus stood apart from all of them, speaking in low tones with a lawyer I didn’t recognize.
And me. I hovered at the edges, not knowing where I was allowed to exist in this moment.
I crossed the room quietly and sat down a few seats away from Adrian. Close enough to feel him. Far enough not to intrude.
“I’m sorry,” I said, barely louder than the hum of the lights.
He didn’t answer. Not because he was ignoring me. Because he didn’t have anything left to give yet.
Minutes stretched. Then more minutes. Time in hospitals didn’t behave normally. It thinned and thickened without warning.
My phone buzzed. A message from a reporter I didn’t recognize. I turned it off completely and slid it into my bag.
I looked at my hands. They were shaking.
“This is my fault,” I said suddenly. The words slipped out before I could stop them. “If I hadn’t come into your lives, if I hadn’t stayed, Thornton wouldn’t have had leverage. He wouldn’t have pushed this far.”
Adrian turned to me then. Slowly.
His eyes were tired. Raw. He opened his mouth, but Victoria spoke first.
“Selena,” she said.
I looked at her. Really looked.
She had aged ten years in one night. The polish she always carried had cracked, but underneath it was something unmovable.
She reached for my hand.
I stiffened instinctively, then let her take it.
“No, dear,” she said. Her grip was warm. Steady. “You did not do this to us.”
Tears burned behind my eyes.
“You gave my son something to fight for beyond duty,” she continued. “You gave him love. That matters more than you understand.”
I swallowed. “Love shouldn’t cost people their lives.”
“It doesn’t,” she replied. “Cowardice does. Cruelty does. And men like Thornton thrive on pretending they are consequences.”
Her thumb pressed lightly into my palm, grounding.
Adrian closed his eyes for a second, then leaned back, exhaling through his nose.
“I would have gone to war with or without you,” he said quietly. “At least now I know why.”
I didn’t trust myself to speak.
Bella stopped pacing and turned toward us. Her eyes were red, but sharp. “We don’t get to fall apart yet,” she said. “He would hate that.”
Marcus approached, phone lowered. “The press is already outside,” he said. “We can hold them off for a while longer, but this will leak.”
Adrian nodded. “Let it.”
A long pause settled between us.
The doors at the end of the hall opened.
Every head snapped up.
A doctor stepped out. He was still wearing gloves. His expression was careful, which was worse than panic.
“Family of Richard De Luca?” he asked.
Adrian was on his feet instantly. Victoria stood beside him. Bella moved in close. I stayed seated for half a heartbeat, then stood too, my legs unsteady.
“That’s us,” Adrian said.
The doctor glanced at all of us. His eyes lingered on Victoria, then Adrian.
“We did everything we could,” he said.
The words hit like a blow.
I felt the room tilt.
Victoria tightened her grip on my hand without looking at me.
“He’s alive,” the doctor continued quickly. “But he is in critical condition. The next twenty four hours are going to be decisive.”
Adrian let out a breath that sounded like it hurt.
“You can see him?” Bella asked.
“In a few minutes,” the doctor replied. “One at a time.”
They moved as a unit then. Toward the doors. Toward the room where machines breathed for a man who had spent his life controlling rooms without them.
I stayed back.
I told myself it was respect. That family should go first.
The truth was simpler. I was afraid of seeing him like that. Afraid of what it would confirm.
Victoria turned after a few steps. “Selena,” she said.
“Yes?”
“You’re coming too,” she said. Not a question.
Inside the ICU, the air was colder. The lights were dimmer. Richard De Luca lay still beneath a web of tubes and wires that made him look smaller than he ever had in life.
Adrian stood at his side, hand resting lightly on the bed rail, like touching his father too firmly might break something.
Victoria brushed her fingers through her husband’s hair with infinite care.
I stood near the foot of the bed, unsure where I fit.
Richard’s eyes fluttered open.
Adrian leaned forward instantly. “Dad.”
His gaze moved slowly. Found Victoria. Then Adrian. Then me.
He frowned slightly, like focusing took effort.
“Still here,” he murmured.
“Yes,” Adrian said. “I’m here.”
Richard’s eyes slid back to me.
“Good,” he said faintly. “She stayed.”
My throat tightened.
“I didn’t want to leave,” I said.
His lips twitched. “Stubborn,” he whispered. Then his eyes closed again.
A nurse stepped in gently. “He needs to rest.”
We filed out quietly.
Back in the waiting room, the weight returned all at once. Now that hope existed, fear had room to breathe again.
Adrian sank into a chair. I sat beside him without thinking.
“I’m scared,” he said, voice low.
“I know,” I replied.
He looked at me. “I don’t know how to do this without him.”
I hesitated. “You don’t have to know yet.”
He nodded. “Promise me something.”
“What?”
“No matter what happens,” he said, “you don’t disappear. Don’t decide this is too much and walk away.”
I met his gaze. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Outside, cameras flashed through the glass. A reminder that even here, even now, the world was watching.
Somewhere in this building, a man fought for his life.
Somewhere else, another man plotted his next move.
And I understood, with quiet clarity, that whatever came next would demand more of me than fear or guilt.
It would demand choice.