Chapter 61
"You can have whatever you want."
The hospital room was so quiet that the only sound was the steady ticking and beeping of the machines.
Isabella's hand stopped in midair for a full three seconds. Her gaze slid past the bed and settled on the sleeping Jasper.
In that instant, something small and treacherously soft flickered through her chest.
When she'd been pregnant with Jasper, throwing up until there was nothing left in her stomach; when one taunting call from Charlotte kept her staring at the ceiling all night; when she had cooked an entire dinner, waiting with her heart in her throat only to get a text from him saying he was working late and wouldn't make it—back then, she had wished James, sitting so high at the top of the pyramid, would spare her even the slightest bit of favoritism.
He hadn't. And now he was holding out everything she had once begged for and never received, offering it up like a priceless treasure.
It only made her stomach turn.
Affection that came this late was worth less than dirt.
"Big words, Mr. Sinclair." Whatever had rippled through Isabella's eyes vanished. Her mouth curved, the smile all chilly mockery.
"If you're that generous, fine. I want you gone. Right now. Get out of this room and stop being an eyesore to my son."
James went rigid. Something in those hard, deep-set eyes of his cracked, splintering bit by bit.
His lips parted. He seemed to want to argue. But when he met the guarded, disgusted look in Isabella's eyes, his hands only clenched once before dropping, the fight draining out of him.
"All right. I'll do what you want."
He didn't go far. He just moved back, retreating to the guest sofa pushed up against the far wall.
He sat there like the life had been punched out of him, shoulders stiff as he sank into the cushions, his tall frame swallowed by the shadowed corner.
Isabella didn't care whether he stayed or left. Every bit of her attention was locked on Jasper.
The night that followed was its own kind of torture.
The withdrawal symptoms tore through the six-year-old boy. One minute, he was shivering, the next he was burning up. His small body curled on the bed in pain, hospital gown soaked through with cold sweat.
"Mom's here, Jasper. You don't have to be scared. I'm right here with you." Isabella didn't dare take even half a step away.
She kept wiping him down with warm water, again and again, humming under her breath the lullaby he'd loved when he was little.
On the sofa not far away, James might as well have been invisible. He didn't sleep at all.
His gaze never left Isabella.
He watched her cradle Jasper against her, murmuring comfort. Watched her half-kneel on the bed to take his temperature, her back tense and aching as she leaned over their son.
In the most exclusive private hospital in Novaria, in a room filled with sleek, cold, high-tech equipment, Isabella was the only source of warmth.
And him? He had done nothing but take, and then take some more. He'd even been proud of it.
By five in the morning, the sky outside the window had gone a pale, exhausted gray.
Jasper's heartbeat finally settled into a completely steady rhythm. His breathing evened out, soft and rhythmic.
The tight string inside Isabella snapped. The relief made her limbs go weak.
Exhaustion crashed over her like a wave. She didn't even have the strength to walk over to the rollaway cot.
She just folded over the rail of the hospital bed, one hand still wrapped around Jasper's small fingers, and slipped straight into sleep.
Silence settled over the room.
When James was sure Isabella was really asleep, he finally pushed himself up from the sofa.
Up close, he saw how much weight she'd lost.
Her already delicate face was chalk-pale, all color stripped away. The eyes that used to look up at him, bright and full of stars, were closed tight, and there were dark, bruised crescents beneath them that made his chest hurt to look at.
James lifted a hand, reaching for the loose strands of hair stuck to her cheek. But when his fingertips hovered less than an inch from her skin, he couldn't make them go any farther.
He didn't dare. The man who could bankrupt half the city with a single sentence didn't even dare to touch his own wife.
He was afraid that even in her dreams, she hated him.
"I'm sorry." His deep voice was barely more than breath, so light it disappeared into the air almost before it left his mouth.
The next morning, sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows, washing the room in a warm, golden glow.
Jasper woke up to the smell of food.
He rubbed his eyes, blinking away sleep, and when his vision cleared, the first thing he saw was a familiar, gentle face.
"Mom!" Jasper's eyes went red in an instant. He didn't care that there was still medical tape on the back of his hand. He threw himself straight into Isabella's arms. "You didn't leave! I'm not dreaming, am I?"
Isabella's heart melted into something warm and liquid. She laughed softly and combed her fingers through his messy hair, then pressed a kiss to his forehead.
"Silly boy. Why would I ever leave you?" Her voice dropped, soft and sure. "I told you. I'm going to stay with you forever."
"Awesome!" Jasper looped his arms around her neck, rubbing his cheek against the curve of her shoulder, clinging like he wanted to glue himself there.
A few minutes later, the door to the room opened.
James walked in carrying several sleek takeout boxes.
He had clearly washed up and changed into a fresh shirt. But the bloodshot veins in his eyes and the dark stubble roughening his jaw gave away how wrecked he still was.
"You're awake?" His gaze landed on the mother and son curled together on the bed. "I had Nia make some oatmeal, and I went out to get your favorite crab soup dumplings. Eat a little while it's still hot."
A billionaire CEO getting up at dawn to stand in line for dumplings—if anyone heard that, they'd never believe it.
Isabella didn't so much as glance his way.
She nudged a few things away from the foot of the bed, snapped the small over-bed table into place, and pulled it across with practiced ease, her movements so natural it was like James was nothing but air.
"Hungry, Jasper? Come on, Mommy's going to feed you breakfast." Isabella ignored the boxes in James's hands and took out the kids' hospital meal she'd preordered from the nutrition department the night before.
She unscrewed the lid of the insulated container. Inside was a simple, plain oatmeal porridge.
She scooped up a spoonful, lifted it to her lips, and blew on it carefully until the steam faded. Then she held the spoon up to Jasper's mouth.
"If it tastes good, have a little more. You need to build your strength back up now." Her voice was so gentle it was almost a caress. She plucked a tissue from the box and dabbed at the corner of Jasper's mouth.
The two of them formed their own small world around the bed—warm, peaceful, filled with soft laughter and quiet chatter.
James was firmly shut out on the other side of that invisible line.
His hand, still holding the takeout boxes, froze in midair. He couldn't seem to move forward. He couldn't quite bring himself to turn around and leave, either.
He finally set the boxes down on the cabinet beside him, the motion deliberate, his Adam's apple bobbing once, twice.
Jasper swallowed the last bite of oatmeal and suddenly looked up, his big dark eyes fixing on Isabella's face.
"Mom," he said, voice bright and clear in the quiet room, "when I get better, I can go with you, right? We can leave together?"
Isabella's fingers tightened almost imperceptibly around the spoon. She didn't look toward James at all.
She just smiled and smoothed a hand over Jasper's cheek. "Of course. I'm taking you to Mommy's new place."
Jasper pressed his lips together, then turned his head to glance at James standing a short distance away. His little face went serious.
"Mom, can we not take Dad with us?" he asked, each word careful. "I hate that he keeps making you cry. I want a new dad instead."
Jasper bit his lip and turned to glance at James, standing not far away, his small face suddenly becoming serious. "Mommy, can we not bring Daddy? I hate how he always makes you cry. I want a new daddy!"