Chapter 203
Elena: POV
The fluorescent lights overhead buzzed faintly, a sound I'd never noticed before but now seemed deafening in the sudden chaos that erupted around Julian's body.
Dr. Morrison's eyes widened. He shoved past me, rushing to Julian's side. "Get me a stethoscope. Now."
A nurse thrust one into his hands. He pressed it against Julian's chest, his face going very still.
"Jesus Christ," he breathed. Then, louder: "He's got a pulse. Faint, but it's there. Get him back to the OR. Move!"
The room erupted into controlled chaos. Nurses swarmed the gurney, unhooking Julian from one set of monitors and hooking him up to portable ones. Someone was shouting orders about blood pressure and oxygen saturation. Someone else was prepping an IV.
"What's happening?" I demanded, my voice shrill. "I thought you said he was dead—"
"Hypovolemic shock can mimic death," Dr. Morrison said, his hands flying over Julian's body, checking vitals, adjusting equipment. "The massive blood loss—his body essentially shut down to preserve core functions. We call it reversible cardiac arrest. The pericardiocentesis must have relieved enough pressure for his heart to restart on its own, but we need to get him back into surgery now before we lose him again."
They were moving, pushing the gurney toward the door. I stumbled after them, my legs shaking so badly I could barely stand.
"Ms. Vance, you need to stay here," a nurse said, trying to guide me back.
"Like hell I do," I snarled, shoving past her. "That's my—he's—"
What? My ex-husband? My daughter's father? The man who'd broken me and somehow put some pieces back together?
"He's mine," I said fiercely. "And I'm not leaving him."
Dr. Morrison glanced back at me, and something in my face must have convinced him because he nodded once. "She can come as far as the OR doors. But that's it."
I followed them down the hallway at a run, my heart hammering against my ribs. Julian's hand had fallen off the side of the gurney, hanging limp. Without thinking, I grabbed it, lacing my fingers through his.
"Don't you dare," I whispered. "Don't you dare leave me now. You hear me, Julian Sterling? You fight. You fight like hell, and you come back to us. Come back to me."
His fingers twitched against mine.
It was the smallest movement—barely perceptible—but it was something.
It was hope.
We reached the OR doors. They stopped the gurney long enough for Dr. Morrison to turn to me.
"I can't make you any promises," he said quietly. "But I'm going to do everything I can to bring him back. You have my word."
I nodded, unable to speak past the lump in my throat.
They pushed through the doors. Julian's hand slipped from mine.
And then I was alone in the hallway again, staring at those doors, at that red light that had started glowing again.
But this time, I wasn't afraid.
This time, I had hope.
---
I don't know how long I stood there. Minutes? Hours? Time had lost all meaning. My legs were shaking, threatening to give out, but I couldn't move. Couldn't do anything but stare at that red light and pray to every god I didn't believe in that Julian would survive this.
Footsteps echoed down the hallway. I turned, expecting another nurse or maybe security coming to escort me to the waiting room.
Instead, I saw Ethan.
He was flanked by two police officers, his hands cuffed in front of him. His face was bruised, one eye swollen shut, and there was dried blood crusted under his nose. But it was the look in his eyes that made me take an involuntary step back—empty, hollow, like something fundamental had been scooped out of him.
"Elena," he said, his voice hoarse.
One of the officers put a hand on his shoulder. "Keep moving."
"Please," Ethan said, ignoring the officer. "I need to—I have to tell her—"
"Tell me what?" I heard myself say. My voice sounded distant, detached, like it belonged to someone else.
Ethan's good eye fixed on me. "I didn't mean for it to go this far. I swear I didn't. Nancy—Victoria—she said we'd just scare you. Make Julian suffer. I didn't know she'd—"
"Shut up," I said flatly. "I don't want to hear it."
"I called him," Ethan continued desperately. "I sent him the location. I tried to—"
"After you helped kidnap my daughter," I cut him off. My hands were clenched into fists at my sides, nails digging into my palms hard enough to draw blood. "After you stood there and watched that psychopath threaten to kill Lila. You want credit for having a last-minute crisis of conscience?"
"I loved you," he whispered.
The words hit me like a physical blow, but not in the way he probably intended. They didn't soften anything. They just made me angrier.
"You don't know what love is," I said quietly. "Love doesn't kidnap. Love doesn't manipulate. Love doesn't stand by while someone threatens a four-year-old child. What you felt wasn't love, Ethan. It was obsession. And it was sick."
"Move it," the officer said, more forcefully this time, pulling Ethan away.
He didn't resist, but his eye stayed locked on mine until they turned the corner and disappeared from view.
I stood there for a long moment, trying to process what had just happened. Then I turned back to the OR doors and sank down onto the floor, my back against the wall.
My phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out with shaking hands.
Alexander:【Where are you?】
I stared at the message for a long moment. Then I typed back:
Me: 【Go home, Alexander. It's over.】
Alexander: 【Elena, please. Let me explain. I can explain everything.】
Me: [There's nothing to explain. You lied about being Lila's father. You lied about my mother. You kept me prisoner for four years and let me think the people who actually cared about me were dead. We're done.]
I blocked his number before he could respond.
Another buzz. This time it was an unknown number.