Chapter 180 Three Years Later

Chapter 180 Three Years Later
Nicholas POV

The sterile scent of antiseptic stings my nostrils as I blink awake in the private medical room of our Chicago estate.

My body feels like lead, every muscle aching from nights spent hunched over in the chair beside Cherry's bed. The soft hum of life support equipment is the only sound, a cruel reminder of the silence that has swallowed her for three long years.

I turn my head, my gaze falling on her pale, still form. Tubes snake from her arms, and her chest rises and falls with a mechanical rhythm. She looks so fragile, like a porcelain doll. Yet beneath that fragility, I know the fire that once burned in her eyes still lingers somewhere, waiting to reignite. If only I could reach it.

Three years. Three damn years since that explosion tore through our world, since I almost lost her and Christina in one brutal night. In that time, I've turned back into the man I was before Cherry—a cold, unfeeling beast who'd kill without a second thought, just to avenge her.

The door creaks open, and tiny footsteps patter in. Christina, my little girl, toddles toward me with a nurse at her side. Her pale cheeks and quiet demeanor betray the lung issues that still plague her, a lingering scar from her premature birth.

She can't speak loudly, her voice a whisper as she peers at Cherry and murmurs, "Mommy still sleeping. I hope she wakes soon." My heart clenches, a dull knife twisting in my chest. I force a smile, the kind I've perfected for her sake, and scoop her up into my lap. "Yeah, sweetheart, Mommy's resting. Wanna play with Daddy for a bit?"

Her small nod is all it takes to pull me out of my darkness, even if just for a moment. We stack blocks, her tiny hands trembling but determined, and I marvel at her strength—Cherry's strength, shining through despite everything. I tickle her gently, coaxing a soft giggle, and for a fleeting second, I'm not the monster I've become. I'm just her father.

Kyle's shadow falls over the doorway, his expression all business. "Boss, there's a corporate meeting you need to attend."

I nod, my jaw tight. After the explosion, I seized the power vacuum, swallowed the Rossi family whole, and hunted down the five other families who dared to strike at us. I've crushed them all, consolidated the underworld into a singular, iron grip under the Salvatore name. But Cherry's promise echoes in my mind—to give her and Christina a safe life. So I've been turning the illegal into legal, transforming blood money into clean corporations, brick by brick. It's a slow bleed, but I'll do it for her. For them.

This meeting isn't about deals or mergers, though. It's a donation—thirty million dollars to a children's hospital, signed in Christina's name. Every penny is a prayer, a desperate hope that somehow it'll tip the scales, that Cherry might wake if I stack enough good deeds against my sins.

I kiss Christina's forehead, murmur a goodbye to her nurse, and head out. The drive to the office is mechanical. I sign the check with a steady hand, but my thoughts churn. What's the point of all this wealth if I can't buy her back?

Meeting over, I detour on the way home, stopping at a small corner bakery. It's a ritual now, three years unbroken—buying Cherry's favorite strawberry cream puffs. I grab a box, the familiar weight a small anchor in my unraveling world.

Back at the estate, I settle beside her bed, the pastry's sweetness bitter on my tongue as I eat alone. "Christina learned a new word today, baby," I whisper, my voice low, almost a confession. "She said 'hope.' Can you believe that? Our little girl, teaching me something I forgot." I choke on the last word, my hand hovering over hers, not daring to touch, as if I might disturb her endless sleep.

Suddenly, the monitor screeches. My heart stops, ice flooding my veins. I'm on my feet, hands shaking as I check the screen, half-expecting the worst. It's a glitch, a damned equipment fault, the nurse confirms as she rushes in. But the fear lingers, raw and exposed, clawing at me. My knees buckle, and I grip the bed rail to steady myself, my breath ragged.

Vincent steps into the room, his presence a quiet intrusion. He's changed over the years, stepping up as a trusted lieutenant, no longer the reckless playboy.

"How is she?" he asks, nodding toward Cherry. I don't answer, can't find the words. He shifts, getting to business. "Tomorrow, we've got a major negotiation with a multinational. Needs you and the group heads there. We leave tonight."

I glance at the calendar in my mind—each of them, from Austin to Lennie, has poured their soul into this transition. They backed my decisions, helped turn shadows into boardrooms. I owe them this much. "Fine," I mutter, my voice gravel. "I'll be there."

In my head, though, a decision solidifies. Once Cherry wakes—and she will wake—I'm done with this life. I'll hand the reins to Vincent and the others, take her and Christina far from this blood-soaked empire. We'll live simply, quietly, somewhere the past can't touch us.

I lean down, pressing a kiss to her forehead, the faintest warmth under my lips. "I'll handle this and be right back, love. Wait for me."

The negotiation goes off without a hitch, another brick in the legal empire I'm forging. It's a victory, expanding our reach, but it tastes like ash. Without Cherry awake to see it, what's the point?

Afterward, we celebrate at a upscale restaurant, Vincent, the group heads, and me. I watch them—pairs and families forming in the wreckage of our world.

Austin and Emma, married and solid; Darcy and Joshua, expecting their own; Nancy and Vincent, a surprising match; even Daryl with a new girlfriend. Lennie, barely a teenager, already drawing admiring glances with his sharp wit. And then there's me, alone at the table, nursing a whiskey that can't drown the emptiness.

I'm halfway through the glass, the burn a poor substitute for warmth, when my phone vibrates. Kyle's voice crackles through, urgent and sharp. "Sir, Cherry's awake."