Chapter 54
Sienna's POV
Morning light seeped through the hospital window. I surfaced slowly from sleep, my body no longer so heavy. Soon I sensed the warm presence of another person in the room.
Hayes sat slumped in the chair beside my bed, his head tilted at an uncomfortable angle against the backrest. The pale golden light carved shadows beneath his cheekbones, making the dark circles under his eyes look like bruises. His jaw was rough with stubble, and seeing him like this—vulnerable in a way that made my chest constrict—felt deeply wrong.
His tablet lay balanced on his thigh, screen still glowing with unfinished work.
I stared at the two empty coffee cups on the bedside table, and that sandwich still in its wrapper. He'd been here all night. Again.
My throat tightened. This wasn't the star quarterback. Not the Sterling heir who could level someone with a look. This was just a man who'd pushed himself to the limit of exhaustion, who refused to leave even when every rational part of him should have.
I tried to shift position, and the IV needle pulled slightly against the tender skin of my hand. That small discomfort was apparently enough.
Hayes's eyes snapped open instantly, that athlete's awareness kicking in before he was fully conscious. He straightened, scanning my face with an intensity that made me want to look away.
For a moment, neither of us spoke. His gaze held mine, and I saw everything he was trying to hide—the worry, the exhaustion, something rawer that I couldn't name.
"How are you feeling?" His voice came out rough, scraped raw from too little sleep.
I didn't trust my voice. "Better."
He leaned forward, reaching for the water bottle.
"You should go home," I managed. "Get some rest."
"I'm fine."
"Hayes—"
"I said I'm fine." The edge in his voice wasn't anger. It was something more fragile. He unscrewed the cap, threaded a straw through with fingers that weren't quite steady. "Drink."
I wanted to argue. Wanted to tell him he couldn't keep doing this, couldn't keep treating my survival as his personal responsibility. But the words stuck in my throat, tangled up with too many other things I couldn't say.
The door suddenly swung open. Reina came in carrying a bouquet of sunflowers and what looked like a get-well card covered in signatures from everyone at the studio.
She froze when she saw Hayes standing by the window. Whatever she'd been planning to say died on her lips as she took in his rumpled clothes, the shadows under his eyes that suggested he'd been here far longer than visiting hours allowed.
"Morning, Mr. Sterling." Her voice was carefully professional, but I caught the flicker of surprise.
Hayes nodded, his expression unreadable. "I'll give you two some privacy."
He headed straight for the bathroom without waiting for a response, and I heard the water start running a moment later.
Reina set the flowers on the windowsill, her movements mechanical. When she turned back to me, her professional mask had cracked.
"Sienna." She pulled the chair closer, lowering her voice. "You scared the hell out of everyone."
"I'm sorry."
"No." She shook her head hard. "You don't get to apologize. Not when you've been killing yourself for months and none of us had the guts to make you stop."
The words hit harder than they should have. I looked away, focusing on the IV taped to my hand.
"The all-nighters. The way you'd forget to eat," Reina continued, her voice thick.
"I was fine—"
"You weren't fine." Her eyes were red now. "That night I came back for my keys? It was two in the morning and you were still adjusting the carbon fiber supports on that order. Your hands were shaking so bad you could barely hold the tools."
"And those days after—your blood sugar dropped so low you almost went face-first into the heat gun. If I hadn't caught you—"
"Reina." I cut her off.
But her eyes were welling up. "You know what everyone's been saying? That you're burning yourself out trying to save K&C. Just to keep this failing studio alive."
"But Sienna—"
Reina's voice broke. "If you collapse, everything you've fought for collapses too."
My face went pale. I opened my mouth but no sound came out.
Reina took a deep breath. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't be saying all this. But... I really need you to rest properly. We need you healthy more than anything else."
I nodded. "I'm sorry. I won't make you worry anymore."
She clearly still had doubts, but soon a smile replaced them.
"How's the studio been?" I asked.
"Besides that concentrated batch of orders last time, we've been getting new ones trickling in these past few days. Nothing major, but all word-of-mouth from the community."
"But something strange happened yesterday," something in her tone made me look up.
"Yesterday afternoon, a footwear procurement department contacted us. They want to establish long-term cooperation with K&C for custom athlete shoes."
My heart jumped.
"They're offering one point five times market rate. Thirty percent deposit upfront. And get this—" She showed me the email thread on her phone. "The contract terms are almost too good to be true. No brand interference, no media requirements, just quality and privacy guarantees."
The room suddenly felt too small. Too hot.
"Strange, right?" Reina frowned. "The whole thing feels less like a business deal and more like..." She searched for words. "Like someone's trying to keep us afloat without making it obvious."
I glanced toward the bathroom, as if looking at the architect of all this.
I thought about Bobby Owens's previous batch of "premium-priced" orders, then the mysteriously cleared supply chain. And now another "mysterious" long-term partnership.
Everything pointed to the same person.
"If the terms are good, take it," I said, keeping my voice level. "But maintain our standards. Quality must be top-notch, and if they try to add conditions later—"
"Tell you immediately. I know." Reina's expression suggested she wasn't fooled by my deflection, but she didn't push. "I'll handle it. You just focus on resting."
After a few minutes of small talk, she left. The room fell quiet again, with only the sound of running water from the bathroom.
A few seconds later, Hayes pushed the door open.