Chapter 158

ARIA

I looked around the crowded ballroom but couldn't find her. Something made me check the garden outside. I pushed open the glass doors.

There she was—Rebecca, standing alone by the roses. The garden lights lit her up.

"Rebecca?" I called out, walking over with chocolate cake. "You okay? You just disappeared."

She turned around, surprised. "Oh, Aria. Just needed air."

"Brought you cake," I said, holding out the plate. "Elizabeth made it special."

She took it but didn't eat. "Thanks."

Something was wrong. "What's going on?"

Rebecca sighed. "I'm scared, Aria. Really scared."

"About what?" Though I already knew.

"The surgery," she whispered. "What if I can't save William? What if my bone marrow doesn't work?"

My heart hurt for her. She was carrying my son's life on her shoulders.

"William's condition isn't on you," I said firmly. "Medicine has limits. No guarantees."

"But—"

"No buts," I cut her off. "Nobody's gonna blame you. What you're doing is brave."

Her eyes got watery.

"You're not just some donor, Rebecca. You're William's aunt. Elizabeth's daughter. Blake's sister. The surgery doesn't change that."

Rebecca wiped her eyes and nodded. "I know. In my head, I know."

"So stop carrying all this weight," I said, squeezing her hand. "We're family. That's what counts."

She looked at the cake and took a bite. Her eyes got big. "Wow, this is incredible."

"Elizabeth knows her desserts," I laughed.

Rebecca took another bite. "I should go back inside. More food to try."

I smiled, watching her walk back. She looked lighter. The tension was gone.

Standing alone in the garden, I gazed at the dark clouds gathering above. The storm brewing matched my mood. William's surgery loomed over everything, no matter how bright the birthday decorations.

"What did Rebecca want?"

I turned to find Blake standing behind me, hands in his pockets, concern on his face.

"Just birthday stuff," I lied, not wanting to burden him with Rebecca's fears. He had enough weighing on him already.

Blake raised an eyebrow, unconvinced.

"Remember when you tore down my little storage shed?" I asked, changing the subject. The memory still stung, even after all this time.

His face went pale. "What made you think of that?"

"Just remembering," I shrugged. "You demolished it to build Emma's dance studio."

The storage shed had been my sanctuary, my hiding place when Christine's cruelty became too much. Blake had destroyed it without a second thought.

"Aria," Blake said, his voice low. "I didn't know what that place meant to you when I tore it down."

"You made me clean up the wreckage," I reminded him. "My old back injury flared up so badly I couldn't move the next day."

Blake stepped closer, his eyes pained. "I watched you from the window the whole time. I wanted to help, but I was too stubborn, too angry."

"Angry about what?"

"About wanting you and not being able to control it." His confession hung between us. "I wanted to make you submit, to break your spirit."

I stared at him, processing his words.

"I'll rebuild it," he said suddenly. "Your storage shed. Every detail, exactly as it was."

I shook my head. "I don't need it anymore."

"But—"

"I'm not that scared, helpless girl anymore," I said. "I have a new life now. A career. A family." I paused. "And Christine is gone. I don't need a hiding place."

Blake studied me, admiration crossing his face.

"You've gotten really good at apologizing," I observed. "The right words, the right tone."

"I've had a lot of practice," he admitted. "Made a lot of mistakes."

He reached for me, pulling me against his chest. "I'll crawl through dirt for you, Aria. Just don't leave me."

I couldn't help laughing through my tears. "I just finished calming Rebecca down, and now you're falling apart on me?"

Before Blake could respond, we heard small footsteps approaching. William and Aurora came running toward us, Aurora's face smeared with chocolate.

I pulled away from Blake, my ears burning. Picking up Aurora, I gently wiped her mouth. "Sweetie, you've got chocolate everywhere."

"We finished our cake!" Aurora announced proudly. "Olivia auntie and Matthew uncle said the party's over, so we came to find Mommy and Daddy."

"Time for bed then," I said, smoothing her hair.

"Not yet!" William protested, unusually emotional. "I want to stay up longer. Please?"

I hesitated, noting the desperation in his eyes. Blake and I exchanged glances, understanding immediately. With the surgery in two days, William wanted to squeeze every moment from tonight.

"We can stay up with Willie!" Aurora declared. "Watch stars and flowers and talk!"

And that's how we ended up in the garden gazebo at nearly midnight, sipping hot chocolate and watching the night sky. Aurora bounced between us, thrilled at being allowed to stay up late. She twirled through the moonlit garden, her excitement contagious.

But within two hours, her energy faded. She slumped against the stone table, mumbling, "Aurora not sleepy... Aurora stay with Willie... nobody stop Aurora... Aurora not sleepy at all..."

Blake and I exchanged amused glances.

"I'll take her to bed," I said, lifting Aurora's warm little body from the table. "You two keep talking. I'll be back soon."

Blake nodded. "Take your time. No rush."

As I walked away carrying Aurora, I heard Blake saying something to William, their voices low and serious.

BLAKE

I watched Aria carry Aurora away, admiring how gentle she was with our daughter. When I turned back, I found William watching me intently.

"Are you tired too?" I asked. "I can carry you to bed if you want."

William straightened his shoulders. "No need. I'm not a baby my sister."

His serious expression made him look older than three. This kid had always been an old soul.

"Why haven't you used the encrypted data I gave you for the renewable energy breakthrough?" William said, adjusting his collar with those small fingers.

The question caught me off guard. "You've been watching the financial news?"

He nodded. "Every day. I haven't seen any announcements about Morgan Global Enterprises' energy projects."

I leaned forward carefully. "Because it's your research, William. I want you working with our scientists after you get better—"

"What if I don't get better?" he interrupted, his voice calm. "If the bone marrow doesn't work, or if I don't make it, the energy project still needs to happen without me."

My chest got tight. "William—"

"I got ready for everything," he said. He pulled out a folder. "Did you know when someone loses someone they love, the first month is the hardest? The brain can't understand it."

I couldn't talk.

"I wrote thirty letters in the hospital," William said, opening the folder. Inside were neat envelopes. "One for each day of the first month. If the surgery doesn't work or if I... go away... please give these to Mommy and Aurora, one every day."

I stared at the letters. My son wrote thirty goodbye letters. My three-year-old son.

"The first letter says to cry and let the sad feelings out," William explained. "The second says to watch a funny movie together. The third says to have friends over for a party." He kept talking about each letter—trips, new things to try, ways to feel better.

"The last letter tells them to forget about me and be happy," he finished. "That's what I want."

I just sat there. These weren't just letters—they were love, trying to help his family feel better.

"I'll keep these safe," I said, my voice rough. "But you won't need them. You're gonna make it."

William nodded seriously. "I'll try my best. But I wanted to be ready."

"Only when you fight to stay strong can the people you love be happy again," I told him.

William looked at me. "There's one more thing. I want to stop saying 'Blake sir.' I want to call you—"

"No," I said firmly. "Not now."

His eyes got big.

"You owe me that," I said. "When you get better—when you're all healthy—then you can call me whatever you want. But not before. That's our deal."

I saw him understand. I was giving him another reason to fight.

William's calm face cracked. His eyes got red, almost crying. "You really get me," he whispered, with a small, sad smile.

"We'll talk about it after you get better," I said, standing up. "Time for bed now."

I picked him up gently. He felt so small. I carried him to his special room and put him on the bed, then kissed his forehead.

He tried to stay awake, but he was too tired. Soon he was breathing slow and steady, looking peaceful, finally looking like a real four-year-old instead of a little grown-up.

I left his room and found Aria in the hallway. She'd been hiding in the garden, listening to everything. The folder of letters shook in her hands as tears streamed down her face, each drop landing on William's careful handwriting.