Chapter 269: Going Home

Chapter 269: Going Home

"He's not that kind of person?" Olivia's eyes went wide. "Do you even know who he is? David! The David from the Jones family! Everyone in business knows how ruthless he is. I heard someone once tried to pull something behind his back, and by the next day that person's entire company was gone — no warning, no time to react. And you're telling me he's not that kind of person?"

Lily said nothing, just watched Olivia quietly.

Olivia shifted under the gaze, a little uncomfortable. She pressed her lips together, and her tone softened. "Okay, fine — he does treat you differently. But you can't blame me for being on edge. I was literally just negotiating with the devil."

Lily finally smiled. It was a small smile, but her eyes curved with it, and it looked lovely. She patted the bed beside her. "Alright, let's get some rest. Stop being so dramatic."

Olivia let out a huff, kicked off her shoes, and shuffled around to the other side of the bed, pulled back the covers, and climbed in.

The hospital bed wasn't big. The two of them lying together was a bit of a squeeze, but neither complained.

Olivia turned onto her side to face Lily. Lily turned too. They lay there face to face, their hands finding each other under the blanket.

It was the same warmth as always. As long as Olivia was beside her, things didn't feel so unbearable. Neither of them spoke. They just lay there quietly, listening to each other breathe.

After a long while, Olivia said softly, "Lily."

"Yeah?"

"Are you scared?"

Lily knew she wasn't asking about tonight — not about Mia, not about the livestream, not about all the noise online.

She was asking about David. About what it meant to be up against someone from the Jones family.

"A little..."

Feeling the weight in Lily, Olivia tightened her grip, holding on a little harder.

"But," Lily's voice was so quiet it was almost like she was talking to herself, "not as scared as I thought I'd be."

Olivia didn't say anything. In the dark, the corner of her mouth curved up.

She rolled onto her back, staring up at the ceiling light. It was off, but the edge of the shade held a faint ring of glow, flickering softly in the darkness.

"It's going to be okay. I'll always be here with you," Olivia said gently.

Outside, the city blazed with light. A night breeze slipped in through the gap of the window that hadn't been shut all the way.

Lily closed her eyes. She could feel Olivia's hand still holding hers — warm and steady, like an anchor, keeping her right here in this moment.

She thought she wouldn't be able to sleep. But her mind went hazy faster than she expected.

Maybe she was just exhausted. Maybe the medication was kicking in. Or maybe it was the warmth of Olivia beside her that finally let her drop every last guard she had.

She sank into a dreamless sleep.

---

A week later, on a morning, Lily stood in front of Sunrise Hospital. She'd been finding herself at places like this a lot lately.

She didn't know whether Zola's baby had been born yet. Zola had gone quiet recently, and with everything Lily had been going through herself, she'd lost track. She'd rushed out and bought a soft pink outfit — so soft it felt like a little cloud — along with a pair of fuzzy socks with tiny strawberry prints on the soles.

When she reached the ward, Lily paused at the door for a few seconds before pushing it open. Something felt off. She couldn't name it — just a thin, nagging unease, like a splinter lodged just under the skin. Not painful, but impossible to ignore.

Zola was in the furthest room in the VIP wing. As Lily walked past the nurses' station with her gift bag, the nurse on duty glanced up at her. There was something in that look — hard to read. Like she recognized Lily, or like she was deciding whether to stop her.

In the end, the nurse said nothing. She lowered her head and went back to her notes, letting Lily pass.

The door wasn't fully closed — just resting against the frame, leaving a narrow gap. Lily raised her hand to knock, and the moment her fingers touched the door, it drifted open a little on its own.

She didn't go in right away. She stood in the doorway, watching through the widening gap.

The room was large — much bigger than the one Lily had stayed in when she gave birth. It had its own bathroom and a small sitting area, with floor-to-ceiling windows looking out over the city skyline.

But the feeling the room gave off wasn't comfort. It was emptiness.

A few bouquets sat on the coffee table, some already wilting, petals browning at the edges.

A fruit basket on the windowsill — the fruit still looked fresh, but untouched.

On the bedside table, a few unopened packages sat stacked, a thin layer of dust settling over them.

Then Lily saw Zola.

Zola was sitting in the chair by the window, facing the glass, her back to the door.

She was wearing a loose, oversized loungewear set — grey-blue, wrinkled, hanging off her frame. Her hair was down, uncombed, falling in tangles over her shoulders. She wasn't sitting so much as folding herself into the chair, curled up and small.

Lily's heart picked up.

"Zola?" she called softly. Her voice wasn't loud, but in the silence of the room it rang out clearly.

Zola's body shifted slightly — like a statue finally stirring back to life.

She turned her head slowly and looked toward the door.

Lily's breath caught.

Zola's face was thinner than it had been a month ago. Her cheekbones had sharpened, her eyes were slightly sunken, and the shadows beneath them were so dark they looked like bruises. Her lips were dry and cracked. Her skin was pale — almost translucent — which made her eyes look even larger, even darker. Like two dry wells with nothing at the bottom and no light coming in.

"Lily?" Zola's voice came out rough and barely audible, like she hadn't spoken in days. "What are you doing here?"

Lily walked in, set the gift bag on the bedside table, and pulled a chair over to sit across from her. She leaned forward, trying to meet Zola's eyes, and looked at her face carefully. The more she looked, the heavier she felt.

"I came to see you." Lily kept her voice low and gentle, like she was trying not to startle something fragile. "Are you... doing okay?"

Her eyes swept quickly around the room. No crib. No bottle sterilizer. No diapers. None of the things that belonged in a room where a newborn had come home.

No smell of milk. No crying. Not even the faintest trace of a baby's presence.

The room was too clean. Too empty.

Lily's heart dropped.

"Zola..." Her voice tightened. "Did something happen to the baby?"

Zola's shoulders jerked sharply.

"...She was admitted two days ago." After a long silence, Zola finally spoke. Her voice was raw, like sandpaper. "The diagnosis said 'mixed atrial septal defect.' The doctors said she needs surgery. They said it's a minor procedure, that the success rate is high..."

She stopped. Her lips trembled. The muscles in her jaw pulled tight — like she was fighting something that was about to break through.