140: No Going Back

140: No Going Back
RUE

I'd always thought the Romano family house was extravagantly tasteless, but tonight it looked worse. Ugly.

Because somewhere inside, my Trouble was being held hostage by his own blood.

Twenty-four hours. That's how long it had been since I sent that stupid text. "Don't skip your meds, Trouble. Get some more rest." And what did I get? Nothing. No cocky reply.

Just silence.

Adrian silent? Please. The man could be on fire and still find a way to flirt between gasps.

So yeah, I'd been pacing my room, tearing through a bottle of wine, and trying to convince myself that I didn't care. Until I found myself standing here like some deranged Juliet, staring at the house that had him caged.

And because patience has never been one of my virtues, I did the obvious thing.

I broke in.

The guards weren't a problem. And I knew exactly where to go. Trouble's room. The window was cracked open. How did I know this?

Well...I'd done some stalking too.

I climbed in, ready to claw his ears off for making me worry.

And froze.

Adrian lay sprawled on the bed, shirtless and pale. An oxygen mask was wrongly pressed against his face, an IV dripping some drug into his veins. The window was wide open, icy air pouring in, while he shivered violently in his sleep.

My fury consumed me in an instant, like a fucking tidal wave.

This was negligence. They weren't nursing him, they were leaving him to rot.

I should have screamed. I should have shattered something. Instead, I moved toward him quietly, my anger roaring louder with each step.

I brushed back his damp hair with trembling fingers, my nails grazing his temple. His forehead burned under my lips when I kissed it, my heart aching.

"Idiot," I whispered, though the word came out soft.

His lashes fluttered. Then his eyelids cracked open, fixing on me as if I was some ghost he'd conjured. His lips parted, his breath rattling through the mask.

"Am I... dreaming?" His voice was rough, barely a whisper.

I arched a brow, even as my throat constricted. "If you are, you've got terrible imagination. I look way hotter than this in dreams."

His mouth twitched with the ghost of a smile. But the sound of his labored breathing killed the amusement fast.

I stroked his hair again, my fingers sinking into the strands, trying to anchor him. "Shh. Don't talk. Just breathe, Trouble."

He shook his head faintly, stubborn even in delirium. His trembling hand weakly lifted from the sheets, reaching blindly for me.

"Rue..." he gasped.

My throat burned, angry tears pricking my eyes.

Because if his family had left him like this, then they weren't just neglectful.

They hated him.

And Adrian Romano might be chaos and obsession in human form, but he was my chaos. My obsession.

Anyone who forgot that was going to regret it.

So, I shut the damn window first, slamming it so hard the panes rattled. Then I turned back to him.

"Tell me something, Trouble," I murmured, adjusting the oxygen mask just enough for him to breathe easier. "Did you eat?"

His lashes lowered. He looked guilty. Adrian Romano. Guilty. That alone made me want to laugh and scream at the same time.

"Didn't... feel like it," he rasped.

I froze, blinking at him. "You didn't feel like it?"

He gave me the tiniest shrug, and my eyes widened.

"Unbelievable," I muttered, grabbing the water bottle from his bedside. I tilted it toward him, holding it to his lips. "Drink. Don't even think about arguing."

He obeyed, taking weak sips at first, then a little more, his throat working as I watched. When he pulled back, he coughed, but the color in his cheeks looked just a fraction better.

"There," I said, setting the bottle down. "Not hard, was it? You act like surviving is optional."

His fevered eye softened on me, and he smiled weakly.

I moved to the closet, rifling through until I found a shirt. Black, of course, because apparently the man didn't own a single color. "You're freezing. We're fixing that."

"Sure, Nurse Rue," he rasped, but the smirk was there, faint on his lips.

"Shut up." I tugged the fabric over his head, guiding his arms through as if he were a child. His skin burned to the touch, his muscles trembling with the effort of just sitting upright.

When the shirt finally settled against him, he sagged back against the pillows, his eyes half-lidded.

I brushed damp hair from his forehead again, my voice hardening. "I'm not leaving you here."

That smirk deepened, weak but unmistakably his. "You're... taking me out?"

I shot him a look. "Don't sound so smug about it. You've got all the grace of a drunk giraffe right now."

He chuckled roughly, the sound breaking into a cough. Still, his gaze burned intensely. "Doesn't matter. You're my heroine."

"Damn right I am," I snapped, looping his arm over my shoulder as I slid closer. His weight was heavy, but I didn't care.

I was taking Trouble out of here.

And God help anyone who tried to stop me.

...

I guided him inside his penthouse, half-carrying, half-dragging him to the couch. He sank into it with a groan, his head falling back.

Thankfully, no one had tried to stop us from leaving. Although it seemed as though the family members weren't home.

For a heartbeat, I just stood there, staring. The great Adrian Romano had been reduced to such a humiliating state. I was ready to throw hands.

But right now, he needed me.

I moved fast, kicked off my heels, yanked open his pristine fridge, cursed at the lack of anything edible, then found a container of chicken soup there. Ten minutes later, I was kneeling in front of him with a steaming bowl.

"Open up," I ordered with a spoon in my hand.

His lashes lifted, his green eye locking on mine. The bastard still managed a smirk. "Bossy."

I jabbed the spoon closer. "I'm trying to save your life, Trouble. Open up."

He obeyed weakly, letting me guide the spoon to his lips. I fed him bite after bite, the silence broken only by the clink of metal against the porcelain and his ragged breaths.

Halfway through, he tried to take the spoon from me, his hand shaking like hell. I caught his wrist, lowering it gently. "Don't be stubborn, Trouble. You've got nothing to prove."

His gaze softened at that, and he relaxed.

When the bowl was finally empty, I set it aside and climbed onto the couch beside him, his head resting on my lap. I stroked my fingers through the strands of his hair slowly.

He sighed against me, his eyelids fluttering shut.

Questions went through my mind. Several of them. How did he end up like this? Why did they leave him to suffer? But I didn't ask. Not tonight.

He needed peace.

Adrian suddenly stirred, coughing hard enough to make his whole body shake. His breathing was ragged, fever chewing through him. My stomach tightened.

"Do you need the oxygen?" I blurted, already half-rising. "I left it in the car. I'll—"

His hand caught mine weakly. "No," he rasped. His eye found mine, glassy but unwavering. "I don't need that. I just need you."

I swallowed hard. "Obsession isn't love, Trouble. You can't just rewrite the rules because it suits you."

He didn't argue. He just lifted my hand and pressed his mouth to my knuckles. The kiss was feather-light, and when I saw the tear slip down his cheek, I forgot how to breathe.

"You think I chose this?" His voice was raw and unsteady. "The day that changed everything you...you didn't even know me. My prosthetic eye had fallen in the rain, people were staring. And you... you shoved an eye patch into my hand and told me not to care about what anyone else thought. Then you walked away."

The memory jolted me. It was a passing act of defiance from months ago. Something I hadn't even thought twice about.

But he had.

"That was the moment," he whispered, clutching my hand. "I decided. I wouldn't lose you. Not in this life. Not in any life."

The words sank deep, too heavy to fight with sarcasm. My heart kicked hard as I realized that maybe...just maybe...there was no going back.

The air was thick, his confession still hanging between us, when my phone buzzed on the coffee table. I ignored it until it buzzed again. And again.

"Answer it," Adrian rasped, his head heavy in my lap.

I grabbed the phone, my thumb swiping before I could think. Amber's name lit the screen.

"Rue," she hissed the second I picked up. "You need to check what I just sent you. Now."

My stomach dropped. "What is it?"

"Just…check. Please." Then she hung up.

A link blinked in our thread. I tapped it, my chest already tightening.

And then my blood turned to ice.

Cross Heiress Snared in Romano Scandal – The Billionaire's Daughter or Just Another Cheap Thrill?"

My photo was there. My name. RUE CROSS.

Not just some nameless "other woman."

Not a mystery girl the tabloids could forget tomorrow. No. My family's legacy was stamped all over it, dragged through the dirt. My father's empire reduced to snarky comments in comment sections.

The phone slid from my trembling hand, blood draining from my face.