Chapter 162: The Truth That Destroys
Julian's POV
I arrived at the hospital at 8:47 AM, still wearing yesterday's clothes.
The flight from Geneva had been eight hours of hell—sitting in that leather seat while my security chief sent updates every thirty minutes.
Subject secured. En route to hospital. Ashford took a bullet. Surgery in progress.
My hands were still shaking when I stepped off the elevator.
The ICU was quiet except for machines. A nurse looked up, started to say something about visiting hours, but I was already past her.
Room 847. Door slightly ajar.
I stopped outside, my hand on the frame, and that's when I heard her voice.
"I can't."
Just those two words. But the way she said them—broken, desperate, final—made something cold slide down my spine.
I should have knocked. Should have announced myself. Instead, I stood there like a coward and listened.
"You don't understand." Lorelei's voice, thick with tears. "We can't be together. We never could have been."
"That's bullshit." Dante. Rough. Angry. "You're just scared—"
"I'm not scared. I'm telling you the truth." A pause. "Dante, we're half-siblings."
The silence that followed was absolute.
I pressed my palm flat against the doorframe, my entire body going rigid.
What?
"No." Dante's voice had gone very quiet. "You're lying."
"I'm not. Your father—Richard Ashford—he had an affair with my mother twenty-seven years ago. I'm his daughter. Which makes us—"
"Stop." Sharp. Commanding. "You're making this up. You're trying to—"
"Why would I lie about this?" Her voice rose, cracked. "Why would I—"
"Because you don't want to be with me." His words came faster now, desperate. "Because Julian's safer, easier, and you're trying to find a reason that makes it okay to—"
"No—"
"Yes. You're inventing this sick story because you can't just admit you don't love me—"
The words burst out of her. "It's wrong and it's been wrong from the very beginning and I didn't know—"
She was sobbing now. Full, wrenching sobs that made my chest tight.
"I can prove it," she said through the tears. "We can do a DNA test. You and me. You and your father. Whatever you need. I'm not lying, Dante. I wish to God I was lying."
Silence.
Then the sound of movement. Something hitting the floor—maybe her purse, maybe his hand knocking something over.
"Here." Her voice was steadier now. Hollow. "Take my hair. Test it yourself. Compare it to your father's DNA. You'll see I'm telling the truth."
More silence.
"I'm marrying Julian in two months," she continued. Flat. Mechanical. "And you need to let this go. Let me go. Because even if we wanted to—even if we ignored what everyone would say—it's still wrong. It'll always be wrong."
"Get out." His voice was so quiet I almost didn't hear it.
"Dante—"
"Get. Out."
I heard footsteps. Fast. Coming toward the door.
I stepped back just as she emerged, her face destroyed—makeup smeared, eyes swollen, that particular kind of devastation that came from losing something you never really had.
She nearly ran into me. Stopped. Looked up.
"Julian." Just my name. But the way she said it—relief and grief and exhaustion all tangled together.
I wanted to say something. Wanted to ask if she was okay, if what I'd just heard was real, if she needed anything.
But before I could open my mouth, Dante's voice cut through from inside the room.
---
"Both of you. Get the fuck out of my hospital room. Out of my city. Out of my life." His voice was still quiet, but there was something underneath it now—something dangerous and barely controlled. "Take her back to Geneva. Marry her. I don't care. Just get out."
I should have felt triumph. Should have felt satisfaction that I'd won, that the threat was finally, definitively neutralized.
Instead, I just felt hollow.
"For what it's worth," I said quietly, "I'm sorry. About all of it."
"Your sympathy means nothing to me." He turned his head away, staring at the wall. "Leave."
I left.
---
As we walked toward the elevator, the elevator chimed. Felix and Cynthia stepped out, both of them looking frantic.
"Oh my god—" Cynthia ran toward us. "We just heard—are you okay? What happened?"
Cynthia pulled her into a tight hug.
Lorelei said weakly, "I'm fine."
Felix looked at me. "Is Dante—"
"He's fine. Awake. Pissed off." I paused. "He wants to be alone."
"I should go see him—"
"No." I kept my voice level. "Trust me. Give him space."
Felix studied my face for a moment, then nodded slowly. "Alright. But I'm checking on him before I leave."
"Fair enough."
Cynthia was still holding Lorelei, murmuring things I couldn't hear. Finally, she pulled back and looked at me.
"Thank you," she said. "For getting her out."
I nodded. Didn't correct her that it had been Dante who'd actually saved her life.
"We should go," I said to Lorelei. "Let Felix handle things here."
She nodded, her movements mechanical, and let me guide her toward the exit.
At the door, she stopped. Turned back.
Dante's room was on the eighth floor. She couldn't see him from here. But she stared up at those windows anyway, her hand pressed flat against the glass.
"Take care of yourself," she whispered.
Then she turned and walked out into the cold New York morning, and I followed her, and the door closed behind us with a terrible finality.
---
Dante's POV
The door closed behind them.
I sat in that hospital bed, staring at the strand of hair in my palm, and tried to make my brain work.
Half-siblings.
The words kept circling, refusing to land, refusing to become real.
My hand found my thigh. Started tapping.
She's lying. She has to be lying.
But even as I thought it, I knew. The way she'd looked at me. The desperation in her voice. The tears.
She believed it. Whether it was true or not, she believed it.
I reached for my phone with my left hand—my right arm was useless, strapped down and throbbing despite the painkillers.
Adrian answered on the first ring. "Sir? How are you—"
"I need a DNA test. Urgent. Highest priority."
"Sir?"
"I'm sending you a hair sample. I need you to compare it to Richard Ashford's DNA. Every database we have access to. Medical records, whatever you can find."
Silence.
"Adrian."
"Yes, sir. I'll handle it personally. How soon do you need results?"