Chapter 303: I’m Sorry, Daddy

Chapter 303: I’m Sorry, Daddy
That afternoon, I carried my sleeping daughter through the hospital corridors, Dr. Bennett walking beside me. For thirty minutes, I sat with Harper in my arms beside James's bed, watching her chest rise and fall with peaceful breaths.

When her eyelids finally fluttered open, panic immediately seized her. Her fingers dug into my blouse as she wildly scanned the unfamiliar room.

"It's okay, baby," I soothed. "Mommy's here. We came to visit James."

Harper's gaze landed on the hospital bed. Her breathing accelerated, her small body trembling violently. The color drained from her face as recognition hit her—not of James, but of the trauma she'd experienced.

"Harper, Harper!" I covered her eyes instinctively. "Don't be scared. It's just James, not the bad man."

She pushed my hand away, looking again at James. This time, recognition dawned properly. Her face crumpled, and she began to sob—deep, wrenching cries that shook her entire body.

To my astonishment, she wriggled from my embrace, attempting to reach the bed on her own. Her legs gave out, sending her sprawling on the floor, but she continued crawling toward James.

I lifted her, and suddenly, miraculously, words burst from her lips.

"Mommy, the bad man stabbed Daddy!" she wailed. "James was bleeding so much... it was so scary... he pushed me away and then he—" She couldn't continue, instead making a stabbing gesture with her tiny hand.

"It's all my fault!" she sobbed. "I was bad to him! I didn't like him! If I'd been good and called him Daddy, the bad man wouldn't have hurt him!"

I held her close. "No, sweetheart. This wasn't your fault. James is getting better. The bad man is gone forever, and you and Theo are safe. Everyone's safe now."

Harper sniffled, reaching toward James but pulling back before touching him.

"It's okay," I encouraged. "You can hold his hand. He'd like that."

Hesitantly, she touched his fingers, her tears falling onto the hospital blanket. "I'm sorry, Daddy. I'm sorry I was mean to you. I'm sorry I thought you were a bad person."

She pulled a crumpled paper star from her pocket. "I folded this at home. Mommy says if you collect a thousand stars, your wish comes true. This is the first one. I wish for you to wake up soon."

She carefully placed it beside his pillow, then leaned forward to kiss his forehead. "A healing kiss to blow the sickness away. Mommy always does this when I'm sick."

"When will Daddy wake up?" she asked, her voice fragile but hopeful.

David smiled gently. "Soon. This big lazy cat has been sleeping too long. When he wakes up, he'll play with you and take you for ice cream."

Harper blinked, determination suddenly appearing in her eyes. "Then I'll come fold a star every day until I have a thousand. That will definitely wake him up."

For the first time since the kidnapping, Harper's voice carried conviction—the first step on her long journey toward healing.

The next few days, the twins were staying with Nathan while I remained at the hospital, keeping constant vigil by James's bedside. I'd become an expert at checking his vitals and adjusting his IV drip, often waking in the middle of the night to make sure everything was perfect.

I took his hand, careful not to disturb the IV. His fingers were warmer tonight—a good sign, David had assured me. The ventilator had been removed yesterday, replaced by a nasal cannula that looked far less intimidating.

"The twins sent another video," I told him, stroking the back of his hand with my thumb. "They're calling you 'Dad' now. No more 'James the fibber.' Funny how it took you nearly dying to earn their forgiveness."

My attempt at humor fell flat in the silent room. I swallowed hard against the lump in my throat.

"You need to wake up soon," I whispered. "They're staying with Nathan, and he's letting them eat ice cream before dinner and watch movies past bedtime. At this rate, they'll be completely spoiled by the time you're better."

Nothing. Just the steady beep of the heart monitor and the soft hiss of oxygen.

I leaned back in the chair, still holding his hand. My eyelids grew heavy again, the lack of proper sleep finally catching up with me. I fought to stay awake, afraid I'd miss something, but the rhythmic sounds of the machines lulled me into a light doze.

Something brushed against my hair. The touch was so light I thought I'd imagined it—until it happened again. My eyes flew open to find James's hand moving weakly near my face, his fingers tangling in the strands of hair that had fallen across his bed.

"James?" I straightened, fully alert now, hardly daring to believe what I was seeing.

His eyes were open—just barely, but open—those familiar gray-blue irises focusing slowly on my face.

"You're awake," I gasped, my voice shaking uncontrollably. "Oh my God, you're awake!"

James blinked once, the movement clearly requiring effort. His lips twitched, curving slightly upward at the corners.

I fumbled for the call button, my fingers trembling so badly I nearly dropped it. With my other hand, I grabbed my phone and called David.

"He's awake," I blurted the moment he answered. "James is awake!"

I turned back to James, tears spilling down my cheeks. "Hey," I said softly, squeezing his hand. "You're at Columbia Presbyterian. You've been asleep for ten days. But you're okay. The kids are okay. Everything's okay now."

His fingers twitched against mine, squeezing weakly.

"David's coming," I continued, unable to stop the flood of words now. "God, James, you scared us all half to death. If you wanted attention, there are less dramatic ways to get it."

The corner of his mouth lifted slightly higher, and I let out a sound between a laugh and a sob.

The door burst open as David rushed in, followed by a team of nurses. He immediately moved to James's side, checking vitals and shining a light in his eyes.

After several minutes of examination, David straightened, clapping a hand gently on James's shoulder. "Well, old friend, looks like you're going to live after all. Another week or two, and you'll be back terrorizing Wall Street like nothing happened."

James's lips parted. He swallowed with difficulty, then managed a single, raspy word: "Fuck... off."

David threw his head back and laughed. "Charming as ever, I see. Glad to have you back."

I stood trembling by the bed, overwhelmed by relief and lingering fear. "Is he really okay? Are all his vitals normal?"

"Better than normal, considering what he's been through," David assured me. "In fact, I'd say his recovery is nothing short of miraculous."

The medical team finished their assessments and filed out, leaving the two of us alone again.

As the door closed behind David, I returned to James's side, taking his hand in both of mine. His eyes had never left my face.

"Harper... Theo," he rasped, each syllable clearly taking enormous effort.

"They're safe," I assured him, tears threatening again. "They're staying with Nathan. William can't hurt them anymore."

Relief softened his features. He was quiet for so long I thought he might have drifted back to sleep. Then: "Dream."

"What?"

"Had... dream." His voice was barely more than a whisper.

I leaned closer. "What kind of dream?"

He swallowed, each word a struggle. "Twins... calling me... Dad."

A smile broke through my tears. "That wasn't a dream. They've been visiting you every day after school. They both call you 'Dad' now."