Chapter 86

John's POV

The moment Cindy's body went limp, my heart stopped. I caught her before she hit the marble floor, her small frame feeling so fragile in my arms. Her face was pale as paper, and for a terrifying second, I thought I had lost her again.

"Cindy!" I called her name, but she didn't respond. Her head fell back against my arm, and I could see her chest rising and falling in shallow breaths.

"Oh no, oh no!" Maria rushed down the stairs, her face filled with panic. "What happened to her? Is she okay?"

I lifted Cindy carefully, holding her close to my chest. She felt so light, too light. "Call Dr. Martinez," I said, my voice tight with fear. "Call him now!"

Maria pulled out her phone with shaking hands while I carried Cindy back up the stairs. Each step felt like forever. I was terrified that she might stop breathing, that the shock of seeing me had been too much for her still-weak body.

"He's coming," Maria said, following behind me. "He said he'll be here in ten minutes."

I placed Cindy gently on her bed, brushing her dark hair away from her face. She looked so peaceful lying there, but I knew the peace was false. Inside, she was probably drowning in anger and betrayal. Because of me.

"This is all my fault," I whispered, sitting on the edge of the bed. "I should have stayed away. I should have listened when you said it was too soon."

Maria stood at the foot of the bed, wringing her hands. "She was getting stronger every day. I thought maybe... maybe she could handle it."

"Handle what? Finding out that the man she thought was dead has been lying to her for weeks?" I ran my hands through my hair, feeling the weight of my mistakes crushing down on me. "Look at her, Maria. Look what I've done to her."

Dr. Martinez arrived exactly ten minutes later, bursting through the door with his medical bag. His face was dark with anger as he rushed to Cindy's side.

"What happened?" he demanded, checking her pulse and breathing.

"She saw me," I said quietly. "She found out I was alive, and she... she collapsed."

Dr. Martinez turned to look at me, his eyes blazing with fury. "Didn't I warn you people that she should not get shocked? Didn't I tell you that her body and mind were still healing?"

"Doctor, we…" Maria started to say, but he cut her off.

"She collapsed from stress," he said, pulling out his stethoscope to listen to her heart. "Her body is fine, but the emotional shock was too much. She just needs rest." He looked up at both of us with disgust. "I told you she needed enough rest. Why didn't you listen to me?"

The doctor's words hit me like physical blows. This was exactly what I had been afraid of. This was why I had stayed hidden, why I had let her believe I was dead.

"If anything happens to her again," Dr. Martinez said, his voice low and dangerous, "I'm going to hold both of you responsible. Do you understand me?"

"Yes," I whispered, not trusting my voice to speak louder.

Dr. Martinez prepared an IV drip, his movements sharp and angry. "She needs fluids and rest. Complete rest. No more shocks, no more drama, no more lies." He inserted the needle into Cindy's arm with practiced ease, then turned to face us again.

"I don't know what game you people are playing," he said, packing up his equipment, "but this girl almost died once already. If you care about her at all, you'll stop putting her through this emotional torture."

With that, he stormed out of the room, leaving Maria and me alone with Cindy's unconscious form.

The silence that followed was deafening. I stared at Cindy's face, watching the steady rise and fall of her chest, and felt like the worst person in the world.

"John," Maria said softly, "you need to tell me the truth. What really happened to you? Where have you been all this time?"

I looked up at her, seeing the confusion and hurt in her eyes. She deserved to know. They all deserved to know.

"When I left for Italy that night," I said, my voice barely above a whisper, "it was supposed to be a simple business deal. But it was a trap. They ambushed me the moment I arrived at the meeting place."

Maria's eyes widened. "An ambush?"

"They tried to kill me," I continued, the memories still painful even now. "I remember gunshots, then nothing. I woke up in an Italian hospital three months later. Three months, Maria. I had been in a coma all that time."

"Three months?" Maria whispered, her hand covering her mouth in shock.

"When I woke up, I had no memory of anything. I didn't know who I was, where I came from, or why I was there. The doctors said it was from the head trauma. I couldn't remember Cindy, couldn't remember the club, couldn't remember my own name." I ran my hands through my hair, feeling the weight of those lost months. "It wasn't until last month, November, that my memory finally came back. Everything hit me at once. Cindy, the promise I made to her, everything."

I stood up and walked to the window, unable to look at Cindy's pale face any longer. "By the time my memory came back in November, by the time I remembered Cindy and what had happened, I realized how much time had passed. I rushed back here immediately, but Big Jim had already told everyone I was dead. When I tried to find her, I discovered you all had disappeared from the safehouse."

"So you've been looking for us all this time?"

"Every single day," I said, turning back to face Maria. "I hired private investigators. I searched every place I could think of. When I finally found out what Big Jim had done to her, when I learned about her working at the strip club, I knew I had to get her out."

"But why didn't you tell her you were alive immediately? Why let her think you were dead?"

I looked down at Cindy again, at her beautiful face that now looked so fragile and hurt. "Because I was a coward," I admitted. "Because I knew she would react exactly like this. I knew she would hate me for disappearing, for not being there when she needed me most, and I needed time to free her from Big Jim’s clutch."

"But you weren't abandoning her," Maria said. "You were in a coma. You were fighting for your own life."

"Try telling her that," I said bitterly. "Look at her, Maria. She's broken because of me. She thinks I betrayed her, that I chose to leave her with Big Jim. How can I make her understand that I was unconscious for three months? That I lost my memory for almost a year? How can I explain that I rushed back the moment I remembered her?"

Maria was quiet for a long moment, studying my face. "You love her," she said finally.

"More than my own life," I whispered. "And that's why this is killing me. She was right about everything she said. I promised to come back for her, and I didn't. I promised to save her, and instead she almost died waiting for me."

I sat back down beside the bed, reaching out to touch Cindy's hand but stopping myself at the last second. "She told me not to touch her. She doesn't want me near her."

"She's hurt and confused," Maria said. "When she wakes up, when she's had time to process everything, maybe she'll listen to your side of the story."

I shook my head. "You heard what she said. She feels betrayed. She thinks I'm a liar and a deceiver. And maybe she's right. Maybe I should have found a way to let her know I was alive sooner."

"John, you did everything you could to save her. You got her out of that place. You brought her here to recover. You've been taking care of her even when she didn't know it."

"But at what cost?" I looked at Cindy's peaceful face, knowing that beneath that peace was a storm of pain and anger. "She hates me, Maria. The woman I love more than anything in this world hates me, and it's all my fault."

The IV drip made a soft dripping sound, the only noise in the room besides our whispered conversation. I watched each drop fall, counting them like seconds of my guilt.

"I don't know how to fix this," I said finally. "I don't know how to make her forgive me for something that wasn't entirely my fault, but feels like it was."

Maria placed a gentle hand on my shoulder. "Give her time," she said. "When she's stronger, when she's had time to heal, maybe then you can explain everything."

"And if she still hates me? If she still thinks I betrayed her?"

Maria was quiet for a moment. "Then you'll have to live with that," she said softly. "But at least you'll know you tried to make it right."

I nodded, but inside I was falling apart. The thought of living without Cindy's love, without her forgiveness, felt like dying all over again.

I had survived being poisoned. I had survived losing my memory. I had survived weeks of not knowing if she was dead or alive.

But I wasn't sure I could survive her hatred.