Chapter 126
Sophia
I looked up to see Juliana standing in the doorway, her face pale but composed. Despite everything, she still looked immaculate—not a hair out of place, her gray suit perfectly pressed. But there was something different in her eyes. Something almost human.
"The doctors are still working on him," she said, her voice steady. "I've spoken with Dr. Harriman. He's the best trauma surgeon in New York."
I nodded, unable to speak past the lump in my throat. Don't break down in front of her. Don't you fucking dare show weakness now.
"You should clean up," she said, gesturing to my appearance. "I've had a private room prepared with a bathroom. My assistant is bringing some clothes for you." She paused. "I'll wait here for news."
I stared at her, searching for the trap, the hidden motive behind this unexpected kindness. But all I saw in those sharp gray eyes was concern—genuine concern that left me disoriented and suspicious. This is Juliana fucking Sterling. The woman who destroyed my life. Who tried to have me killed. Why is she being kind to me now?
"Thank you," I managed, the words feeling foreign on my tongue.
The private room was luxurious by hospital standards, with a small but well-appointed bathroom. I locked the door behind me and leaned against it, finally allowing myself a moment of complete vulnerability. My legs gave way, and I slid to the floor, silent sobs wracking my body.
This is my fault. All of this is my fault. If I'd never come back to New York, if I'd never confronted him, if I'd just stayed away...
After sending quick texts to Lauren and Alex—asking Alex to make sure Lily was safe and cared for—I stepped into the shower, watching Blake's blood swirl down the drain in sickening crimson eddies. Through the door, I could hear Juliana speaking on the phone, her voice low and urgent.
"James, you need to come. It's Blake. He's been shot... No, it wasn't Sophia. It was that Price woman... Yes, she's here... Just come, James. He'll want you here when he wakes up."
When he wakes up. Not if. The confidence in her voice gave me something to cling to, a lifeline in the midst of this nightmare.
Under the hot spray, I closed my eyes and saw it all again—the gleam of metal as Amanda raised the gun, the pure hatred in her eyes, Blake's body slamming into mine as the shot rang out.
When I emerged from the bathroom, wrapped in a hospital robe, Dr. Harriman was speaking with Juliana. His face was grave, and my heart stopped, my stomach dropping like I'd been pushed from a great height.
"Sophia," Juliana said, noticing me. "This is Dr. Harriman."
The doctor turned to me, his expression professional but compassionate. "Ms. Green. I understand you were with Mr. Sterling when he was shot."
I nodded, unable to trust my voice. My fingernails dug into my palms, the pain grounding me in this horrible reality.
"His condition is critical," Dr. Harriman said bluntly. "The bullet fragmented, and pieces are lodged dangerously close to his aorta. There's significant damage to his lung and arterial tissue. He arrested twice on the table, and we had to use the defibrillator to restart his heart."
Each word was a physical blow. I sank into a chair, my legs no longer able to support me, bile rising in my throat. "But he's alive?" I whispered, my voice barely audible even to my own ears.
"For now," Dr. Harriman confirmed. "We've induced a medical coma to give his body the best chance to heal. He'll remain on a ventilator for at least the next 24 hours."
"When can I see him?" I asked, desperate to touch him, to feel his warmth, to know he was still with me.
"Not until tomorrow at the earliest. And even then, only briefly." He hesitated. "There's one more thing you should know. Given the trauma and oxygen deprivation during the cardiac arrests, there's a possibility of brain damage. Even when he wakes up, his memory and cognitive functions may be impaired."
Oh fuck. Not again. Not the memories. Please, not that again. The irony wasn't lost on me. Memory loss had separated us once before. Would it happen again? Would he wake up and not know me all over again?
"I understand," I said, though I didn't. How could anyone understand this fucking nightmare?
After Dr. Harriman left, a heavy silence fell between Juliana and me. Her assistant had arrived with clothes—simple black pants and a gray sweater that fit surprisingly well. I changed quickly, eager to escape the hospital gown that made me feel even more vulnerable.
"Juliana," I said finally, gathering my courage, my heart pounding. "I need to check on Lily. She's only two. She'll be worried about me."
Juliana nodded. "Of course. Your daughter needs you." She paused. "I apologize for my past behavior toward you, Sophia. Blake truly loves you. I see that now."
I studied her face, looking for deception but finding none. My chest tightened with conflicting emotions—suspicion, hope, confusion. Is this genuine remorse, or just another manipulation? After everything she's done, can I trust this apparent change of heart?
Before I could respond, Dr. Harriman returned with discharge papers for me. "You're free to go, Ms. Green. I've prescribed a mild sedative if you need help sleeping."
"Thank you." I signed the forms mechanically, my mind already with Lily. Would she sense something was wrong? How much should I tell her about Blake? What if I have to tell my daughter that her father died a hero .
In the hospital lobby, I nearly collided with James. I'd only met him a few times before the accident, but his resemblance to Blake was striking—the same blue eyes, though James's were weathered by decades more experience.
"Sophia," he said, his voice gruff but not unkind. "Are you alright? Do you need a driver to take you back to your apartment?"
"I'm fine," I said automatically, the lie so obvious it barely needed addressing. I'm fucking falling apart. "Caroline is waiting for me."
James nodded, his gaze moving past me to where Juliana stood. Something passed between them—an unspoken tension that suggested their earlier phone conversation hadn't ended well.
"Take care of yourself," James said, turning back to me. "Blake would want that."
As I walked away, I glanced back to see James and Juliana in what appeared to be a heated discussion, their voices too low to hear but their body language unmistakable. Whatever was happening between them had nothing to do with me—and yet, I couldn't help feeling it might affect everything.
I had to stay focused on what mattered: Blake's recovery and Lily's wellbeing. And somehow, I needed to find a way to build a bridge with Juliana. If Blake survived— when he survived—we would all be part of each other's lives.
The city lights blurred as we drove away from the hospital, and I sent up one more silent prayer: Please let him live. Please don't take him from me now. Please give us another fucking chance.