Chapter 19 THE NEW WAY
Annabella
The quiet hum of the high-security hospital suite is deafening. My world has narrowed to this room, the occasional beep-beep of Killian’s distant monitors, and the tiny, miraculous weight in my arms.
It has been a blur of feedings, tears, and terrifying silence. I named him Elias, a nod to the man who died exposing the truth, and the man who almost died protecting me from the consequence of that truth. I hold Elias close, tracing the line of his jaw, Killian’s jaw. The guilt is a constant, suffocating blanket. I should have never run. I should have stayed and screamed at him until he told me the truth, instead of running straight into the arms of a madman. I was so consumed by the pain of the past that I ignored the danger of the present.
The door opens, quiet as a shadow, and Luciano walks in. He carries a tray of untouched food and a stack of financial reports, looking like a man who hasn’t slept since the explosion. He’s been my rock, my nurse, my bodyguard, and the only person I let hold Elias besides myself.
"You still haven't touched the breakfast," Luciano says, setting the tray down. He runs a hand across his jaw, exhaustion etched into the lines around his eyes.
"I'm not hungry," I whisper, rocking Elias gently. The baby stirs, making a tiny, hungry sound. "Did you see him?"
Luciano checks the door, then pulls a chair close to the crib. "Just came from the ICU. No change. Vitals are steady. The doctor is cautiously optimistic about the swelling."
"Cautiously optimistic is just a nice way of saying 'prepare for the worst'," I sigh, feeling the familiar prickle of tears. "They still won't let Elias see him. They say the ICU is too risky for a newborn. I want Killian to know his son."
"We'll bring him the moment Killian wakes up," Luciano assures me, his hand resting lightly on the baby's blanket. "What about you? Are you feeling better? Physically."
"I feel fine," I state, though my body aches with a profound weariness that has nothing to do with childbirth. "It's the rest of it. The chaos. The silence. Tell me about the company. Is Alex handling the press well?"
Luciano frowns. "He's a PR genius. The official statement is a 'severe workplace accident' and 'sudden maternity leave' for you. The media is swarming, but they haven't breached the security here. No one knows Thorne was involved, or the file's contents, or that Killian took a bullet saving you from a bomb."
"You saved us too," I remind him, looking him straight in the eye. "You killed Thorne. You were there. I'm grateful, Luciano. More than I can say. I don't know what I would do without you."
He looks away quickly, rubbing the back of his neck, uncomfortable with the intensity of my gratitude. "You would be fine. You're strong. I'm just… fulfilling my promise. I told Killian I would protect you. The file is secure, by the way. It’s locked in a vault only I can access."
"And your life is on hold," I press. "The Astor empire rests on your shoulders now. How long can you keep this up? You look like you're going to collapse."
"As long as it takes," he says simply, his voice firm and unwavering. "Until Killian wakes up and takes back what's his. I can handle the business; I can handle the enemies. But Annabella, you have to eat. For Elias."
He hands me a piece of toast. I take a bite, tasting nothing but fear and metal.
Later in the afternoon, Alex arrives, looking impeccably groomed but severely stressed. He is the opposite of Luciano, polished, sharp, all surfaces, while Luciano is the solid core beneath them.
"Annabella," Alex greets me, his voice lowered. "You look beautiful, considering everything."
"You lie well," I reply wryly. "How is the market reacting to Killian's 'accident'?"
"Volatility is high," Alex admits, pulling up a chair. "The directors are circling like vultures. They smell blood in the water. They want an emergency vote to appoint an interim CEO. I've been stalling, citing Killian’s written directive that Luciano is his sole proxy. But that can only last so long before they demand proof of life, or at least, proof of competence."
"They want to take the company from a man in a coma," I shake my head in disbelief.
"They want power. The only thing keeping them at bay is the image of Killian's strength, and Luciano’s absolute ruthlessness in the office. They know Luciano is a temporary threat, but a dangerous one," Alex explains. "He’s doing a masterful job, but he's stretched thin. He's trying to manage a hostile board and hunt down the person who funded Thorne."
"Did you find anything more on that? Who funded him?"
Alex leans closer. "Thorne was bankrupt. He didn't have the resources for that explosion or that hideout. Someone gave him the money, the location, and the inside information on Killian's movements. We're looking at the old guard. Someone who hated Killian's father, or someone who hates Killian for dismantling the old corruption."
"So the threat isn't over," I state, looking down at Elias. "It just changed focus."
"It never is, Annabella," Alex says gravely. "Not in this family. Killian told me once, the only way to leave the Astor legacy is in a pine box. Now, I have to go stop a hostile takeover attempt before lunch. Call me if the monitor even hiccups."
Late evening. Luciano brings me a fresh gown and then takes over the watch of Elias. I insist on going to the ICU. I walk down the sterile corridor, my heart thumping a hollow, desperate beat against my ribs.
Killian’s room is cold. He looks impossibly still, hooked up to a dozen machines that breathe, pump, and track his life. His head is bandaged, his chest wrapped. He is fragile, and the sight of his vulnerability shatters the last remnants of my old resentment.
I pull a chair close to his bedside. I take his hand, the large, strong hand that stripped me naked and then gently fed me tea.
"Killian," I whisper, my voice thick with unshed tears. "It's Annabella. I came to tell you I'm so sorry. I love you. I love you so much. I should have trusted you, even with the file. I was a coward, and I ran."
My voice breaks. I try again, more forcefully. "We have a son. Elias. He's perfect. He has your eyes, your dark hair. He needs his father, Killian. I need his father."
I lean over, tears falling onto his sheet. "Please, Killian, you can't leave me. You can't leave us. You saved me from the explosion, but now I'm drowning in the silence. I need your fight, Killian. I need you to be the ruthless bastard you are, just once more. Fight for us. Fight for Elias. I can't do this alone."
I press my cheek against his hand, sobbing silently until I feel utterly empty. I whisper the promise he made me, the one I am holding him to.
"You said nothing, absolutely nothing, would touch me. You broke that promise, Killian. Now wake up and fix it. Wake up and come home. You have to. I'm waiting."
I sit there, holding his hand, waiting for a twitch, a breath, a sign that the man I love is still in there, listening to the woman who now carries his heart, and his heir, inside her own. The only thing that moves is the steady, indifferent rhythm of the life support machine.