Chapter 48 At His Father's Bedside
I strolled back to my office with the echo of my heels muffled by thick carpeting and heavier thoughts.
The door clicked shut behind me, and the silence pressed inward immediately, thick and suffocating.
I exhaled sharply, a low sigh that deflated my chest more than I expected. The meeting had gone better than I anticipated—and worse than I’d hoped—a strange middle ground.
Then the door clicked open. I stiffened instinctively and straightened my spine.
“Elena.” Jack called.
I turned slightly and found him stepping into the room like my office wasn’t just mine anymore. He was casually dressed in a charcoal shirt with the sleeves rolled up, collar loose at the throat. His hair was slightly damp, like he’d run his hands through it after splashing cold water on his face.
He leaned against the edge of the door, arms crossed, not bothering to hide the way his eyes scanned me.
“Was it everything you expected?” he asked softly.
I let out a dry breath that almost resembled a laugh.
“Only half of them showed up,” I replied. “Which is more than I predicted, and still less than they promised.”
Jack gave a small shrug and walked further into the room, his hands slipping into his pockets like he wasn’t carrying anything heavy. “You showed up,” he said simply. “That’s what matters.”
I tilted my head toward him, tiredness tugging at my expression, but something softer flickering underneath.
“Why do you always know what to say when I least want to hear it?”
A faint smile touched his mouth but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Elena,” he began, standing straighter now. “I need to ask you something.”
My brow lifted automatically.
“That’s never a good tone to start a sentence with.”
He blinked. “It’s about my father.”
That caught me off guard in a way I didn’t expect.
My arms dropped from their folded hold, and I turned fully toward him.
Jack’s voice steadied, but I could hear what he wasn’t saying in the spaces between words.
“He had a bit of an episode this morning. The doctors said it was handled quickly, but… it shook him. And it shook me too.”
My stomach tightened. “What kind of episode?”
“Blood pressure spike. Some minor confusion.” His jaw clenched. “They’re running more tests.” He hesitated, then added, quieter now, almost reluctant—
“I was planning to visit him later this afternoon. I know it’s last minute. And I know you’ve got a thousand things pulling at you right now, but…” He stopped and hesitated.
“Would you come with me?” He asked.
The question landed heavier than it should have.
I felt the impulse to glance at my desk, at my computer, at my planner, at the endless unread emails waiting like vultures.
But none of it mattered in that moment.
None of it felt heavier than the look in his eyes.
“Of course,” I said softly. “I’ll go with you.”
Jack exhaled through his nose, something unspoken releasing in his shoulders.
“Thank you,” he murmured, barely above a whisper.
For a moment, we just stared at each other in silence. Then Jack reached for my hand just to hold it and I let him.
I nodded slightly at his request which earned me a small smile.
The hospital smelled like antiseptic and wilted flowers—sterile and tired like the building had seen too much grief to pretend anymore.
I walked beside Jack through the long corridor, my heels clicking softly against the polished tile. Every few steps, we passed a nurse pushing a cart or a doctor murmuring into a tablet, but no one looked up.
Everyone here was used to people coming in with stiff shoulders and silent hope.
Jack hadn’t said much on the ride over.
His hand had rested near mine on the seat neither touching nor pulling away.
I watched his jaw clench from the corner of my eye. A man who could command rooms full of powerful people…but still wasn’t ready to face a father lying in a hospital bed.
When we reached the room, Jack paused outside the door and took a breath.
I could tell it wasn’t the first time today.
Then he opened it slowly.
The lights were dimmed inside, late afternoon sun slipping through the blinds in soft gold strips. Machines hummed gently, blinking with numbers I didn’t understand but instinctively knew to be serious.
The bed was angled slightly up and Julian Roman lay there. His face was pale against the starch-white pillow.
Jack’s steps slowed as he neared the bed.
I followed a few paces behind, my heart heavier than I expected it would be.
But the tension in Jack’s shoulders made this moment feel personal.
Jack stood at the edge of the bed and stared at his father for a long while. Something unreadable flickered across his expression.
Then his hands were shoved into his pockets, like he was trying to hold back something inside himself.
“He hasn’t woken up since this morning,” Jack said quietly, not turning to look at me. “They say it’s just fatigue. But I’ve never seen him like this.”
I stepped closer, my eyes tracing the older man’s face.
Jack exhaled sharply and reached for my hand. It startled me—not because he touched me…but because of how tightly he held on like he needed to anchor himself to something that wasn’t a hospital bed or the slow beeping of a heart monitor.
Without a word, he tugged me gently closer and wrapped an arm around my waist and pulled me in, pressing his forehead briefly to the side of mine before returning his gaze to his father.
And without thinking, I laid my hand over his chest and stayed there.
“He used to walk into boardrooms like he owned the universe,” Jack murmured. “He’d call everyone’s bluff and never break a sweat.” His voice cracked slightly. “No matter how much I resented him growing up… I always thought he was invincible.”
I didn’t speak because I knew better than to fill the silence with platitudes.
Jack stared down at his father, eyes searching for something that wasn’t there.
“I hated how he ran things like a general. How nothing was ever good enough.”
His throat moved as he swallowed. “But he built an empire from dust and broken bones.” He breathed out. “And somewhere along the way… I think I started becoming like him.”
My heart tightened. “You’re not him,” I said softly but he didn’t reply.
He just stared, breathing evenly, like he didn’t believe me yet but needed to.
The machines kept humming.
Outside the window, the sun dipped lower, casting a faint orange glow that made Julian’s face seem even more distant.
Finally, Jack squeezed my hand.
“Thanks for coming.”
I looked up at him. “You don’t have to thank me for that.”
“I do,” he whispered. “You’re the only person I wanted here.”
The admission hung in the air but I didn’t respond with words. I just stayed holding his hand.
My phone vibrated severally in my bag but I ignored it.