Chapter 235 235
Chapter 235 235
~~
The next morning…
Lucas blinked slowly, taking in the harsh white ceiling above him. For a second, the heavy fog in his brain made the unfamiliar room feel surreal, until the dull, familiar throbbing in his side brought the night rushing back.
His head snapped to the side.
The plastic chair next to the bed was empty. He scanned the rest of the room—the window, the small table, the vase of flowers on the sill.
No Blair.
Lucas’s brows instantly pulled tight. “Mom?”
Patricia looked up from the corner, setting her paper coffee cup down on the small table. “You’re awake.”
Lucas braced his hands on the mattress, trying to haul himself up. “Where’s Blair?”
Patricia let out a soft sigh, stepping over. “She went home, Lucas.”
The tension in his chest spiked. “Why?”
“Because she was running on zero sleep and looked ready to collapse,” Patricia said gently.
Lucas stared at the empty chair, then flicked his eyes to the door. “Did she take Mave?”
“Yes.” Patricia reached out and straightened the edge of his blanket. “The driver drove them back. The poor kid was exhausted and needed to sleep in his own bed.”
Lucas’s shoulders dropped half an inch. “When is she coming back?”
Patricia smiled, a rare, soft look on her face. “Later.”
Lucas narrowed his eyes, searching her face like a hawk. “You’re sure?”
“I’m sure.” She patted his arm gently.
He leaned back against the pillows, looking for all the world like a little kid needing confirmation that he hadn't just been left behind. “She actually said she’d come back?”
“She did,” Patricia reassured him.
Lucas let out a breath, his jaw loosening. “Okay.”
Silence settled for a beat before Lucas looked down at his hospital gown. He carefully shifted his weight—and immediately hit a wall of sharp, agonizing pain across his side. He winced, sucking in a tight breath.
Patricia’s eyes widened. “Don’t do that!”
“I’m fine,” he grunted.
“You are nowhere near fine.”
Lucas ignored her, slowly testing his arm and bending his elbow to see how much range he had. “I feel fine.”
“Lucas, you got shot yesterday!”
“I know.”
“You had major surgery!”
“I’m aware, Mom.” He grabbed the edge of the blanket and swung it back.
Patricia stared at him in utter disbelief. “Lucas. Don't you dare.”
“Watch,” he said stubbornness practically radiating off him. He swung his legs over the edge of the mattress and stood up.
A brutal flash of pain shot straight through his ribs, turning his vision white for a split second, but he locked his knees and forced himself to stay upright.
Patricia scrambled forward, grabbing his elbow. “Sit back down before you pass out!”
“I’m not passing out.”
“You are unbelievable.”
Lucas turned to face her, his voice dead serious. “I need to get discharged.”
Patricia blinked. “I’m sorry, what?”
“I have things to take care of.”
“You are staying right here in this bed.”
“Mom, no.”
“Lucas, yes!”
“I can’t sit around in a hospital room all day.”
“You absolutely can, and you will.”
Lucas shook his head, holding his side. “I’m fine.”
Patricia crossed her arms, giving him a flat, unyielding look. “You also thought you were fine right before you decided to intercept a bullet with your ribs.”
Lucas went dead quiet.
“That’s what I thought,” Patricia said, pointing a finger at the mattress.
He let out a long, defeated sigh. “I just want to go home.”
Patricia’s posture softened, the motherly worry bleeding through her tough exterior. “I know,” she said softly, gently guiding him back onto the edge of the bed. “And you will. But only when the doctor gives the green light.”
Right on cue, the door clicked open and a nurse walked in with a clipboard. “Good morning, Mr. Brooks—”
Patricia instantly pointed over her shoulder at her son. “Tell him.”
The nurse paused, looking between the two of them. “Tell him what?”
“Tell him he isn't walking out of here today.”
The nurse let out a knowing chuckle. “Mr. Brooks, you need to be resting.”
Lucas scowled. “I feel good enough to leave.”
“We still have to run a full round of vitals, check your incision, and clear it with the attending physician first.”
Lucas groaned, sinking back against the pillows. “Fine.”
An hour of vitals, a barrage of strict instructions, and endless back-and-forth later, the attending doctor finally walked in with a clip of discharge papers.
“If you swear to take it easy, refrain from lifting anything heavy, and get straight to an ER if you experience dizziness, fever, or bleeding, I’ll sign off on this,” the doctor said, holding out a pen.
Lucas didn't hesitate for a microsecond. “I swear.”
Patricia shot him a warning glare. “You’d better.”
Lucas offered a faint, tired smirk.
While Patricia gathered up his few belongings, the nurse helped Lucas get dressed into a simple sweater and sweatpants, careful not to pull at his bandaged torso.
A short while later, Lucas walked slowly out through the sliding glass doors of the hospital lobby, leaning just a fraction of his weight into his mother's side. He was sore as hell. He was running on pure adrenaline and sheer willpower.
The very second they hit the cool morning air, Lucas pulled his phone out of his pocket.
Patricia glanced over, watching his thumb rapidly swipe across the screen. “Calling Blair already?”
Lucas didn't even look up. “Who else?”
Patricia shook her head, biting back a small smile as she unlocked the car. “Come on, kid.”
Lucas frowned, his thumb hovering over the call button. “Mom.”
She let out a quiet laugh, holding the passenger door open for him. “Let’s just get you home.”
The moment Lucas and Patricia stepped through the hospital entrance, the noise hit them like a wall.
“Mr. Brooks!”
“Lucas! Over here!”
“Is it true?”
A horde of reporters surged forward, the sudden blinding flash of camera bulbs reflecting off the glass doors.
Patricia instantly stiffened, throwing a hand up to shield her eyes. Lucas pulled up short, his jaw tightening as he realized his private security detail was completely outnumbered by the frantic press crowd.
One reporter shoved a microphone right over the guard’s arm. “Mr. Brooks, is Blair the woman who had your secret child five years ago?”
Before Lucas could even react, another voice barked from the left. “Sources claim she was your mistress. What do you have to say about that?”
A camera lens snapped inches from his face. “Was she a prostitute when you met her?”
Patricia’s head whipped around, her face pale with shock. “Excuse me?!”
The press mob completely ignored her, shouting over one another in a chaotic roar.
“Did you abandon her and the boy five years ago?”
“Is your wife aware of the ongoing affair?”
“Is Blair still your mistress, Mr. Brooks?”
The ugly, toxic questions pelted him from every direction. Lucas stood frozen for a split second, stunned by the sheer venom of it, before his expression hardened into pure, icy anger.
“Watch your mouth,” he gritted out, his voice low and lethal.
The reporter didn't even flinch. “Are the allegations true, Mr. Brooks?”
Patricia grabbed Lucas's elbow, her knuckles white. “Enough! Get these people away from my son!”
Another flash blared. “Mr. Brooks, why was she at Alexander Burke’s gala with you last night?”
Lucas’s dark eyes narrowed into slits. “Blair was an invited guest.”
“So you admit you’re still involved with her?”