Chapter 98 *
Third Person POV
"Mrs. Wolfe? Mr. Salvatore would like to see you." The nurse opened the door. Gestured for Scarlett to go in.
Scarlett took a breath. Stepped inside.
The room was dim. Quiet. Medical equipment beeped softly in the background.
Salvatore was in the bed. Hooked up to monitors. IV lines in both arms. He looked small. Fragile. Nothing like the terrifying patriarch from earlier.
Guilt crashed over her like a wave.
She walked closer. Kept her head down. Like a kid who'd just broken something expensive.
"I'm sorry, sir." Her voice came out small. "I didn't mean for any of this to happen."
Salvatore's hand moved. Slowly. Shakily. He lifted it toward her.
"Scarlett..." His voice was weak. Barely audible. "Come here, girl..."
Oh God. He could barely move.
Scarlett's chest tightened. She walked to the bedside. Reached out carefully. Took his dry, wrinkled hand in hers.
"I'm here."
His fingers closed around hers. Surprisingly strong for someone who looked half-dead.
He opened his eyes. Just a crack. Like it took all his energy.
"Damon..." He paused. Took a shaky breath. "He's a hard man. Doesn't know how to show what he feels."
Scarlett blinked. That wasn't what she expected.
"If he's wronged you..." Another pause. Another labored breath. "I'll set him straight. You have my word."
Wait. Was he... defending her?
"But please..." His grip tightened on her hand. "Don't talk about divorce. Not in this family."
"I'm an old man." His eyes looked wet. Glassy. "Don't have many years left."
Scarlett's throat felt tight.
"All I want..." He was struggling to speak now. Each word seemed painful. "Is to see my grandson happy. To see this family whole."
His eyes locked onto hers. Desperate. Pleading.
"Promise me, girl. Promise you'll give him a real chance."
Scarlett's brain short-circuited.
The old man was staring at her with those hopeful, fragile eyes. Looking at her like she was his last hope.
"I... I don't know if..."
The words stuck in her throat. She couldn't finish the sentence.
Couldn't say yes. Couldn't say no.
Every instinct screams this is wrong. I can't do this.
But what if he actually dies? What if this is really it?
She stood there. Frozen. Her hand still trapped in his.
Salvatore watched her hesitate. Something flickered in his eyes.
Then he gasped.
His whole body jerked. His free hand flew to his chest.
"Jesus Christ—" His voice came out strangled. "My chest—"
Scarlett's heart stopped.
"Oh my God!" She leaned forward. "What's wrong? What's happening?"
His breathing turned rapid. Shallow. His face went gray.
"Can't... can't breathe..." He was clutching his chest. "My heart... I think this is it..."
No. No no no.
"Are you okay?!" Scarlett's voice came out high. Panicked. "Should I call someone?!"
Salvatore's eyes were wide now. Glassy with pain. He stared at her like she was the only thing keeping him alive.
"Promise me..." The words came out between gasps. "No divorce... Promise me..."
His grip on her hand was crushing. Like he was holding onto a lifeline.
The door burst open.
Dr. Morrison rushed in. Two nurses right behind him.
"Mr. Wolfe, we need you to lie back—" The doctor was already reaching for the monitors.
Salvatore jerked away. Pulled his arm back. Refused to let them touch him.
"Not until—" He was still gripping Scarlett's hand. "Not until she promises..."
"Sir, please—" One of the nurses tried to adjust his IV.
He batted her hand away. His breathing was getting worse. More labored.
"If you walk away from this family..." His voice cracked. "I'll die knowing I failed..."
The machines started beeping faster. More urgently.
Dr. Morrison looked at Scarlett. His expression was serious. Grave.
"Ma'am, we really need to get him stabilized—"
"Please," the nurse added. "Whatever he's asking, just— we need to treat him NOW."
Everyone was staring at her. Waiting.
Scarlett's mind was racing.
But this isn't... I mean, we only got married because—
Before she could form the words, Salvatore's eyes rolled back.
His whole body convulsed. Violently. The monitors went crazy. Alarms blaring.
"Mr. Wolfe!" Dr. Morrison lunged forward.
Salvatore fought him off. Pushed weakly at the doctor's hands. Like he'd rather die than accept help.
Not until she promised.
Scarlett's brain was screaming at her.
This is too convenient. There's no way this is real. Is he... is he faking?
But then she looked at his face. Gray and sweating. His whole body shaking.
But what if I'm wrong? What if he actually dies and I could have prevented it?
The guilt would destroy her. She'd never forgive herself.
"Okay!" The word burst out of her. "Okay, I promise! No divorce, I promise!"
She was almost shouting now. Desperate.
"I'll stay married to Damon. Just please, let them help you!"
The moment the words left her mouth, something changed.
Salvatore's body relaxed. The tension drained out of him instantly.
"Good..." His voice was weak but satisfied. "Good girl..."
His head tilted to the side. His eyes fluttered closed. His grip on her hand went slack.
The transition was smooth. Almost too smooth.
Like an Oscar-winning performance.
The doctor was already working. Checking vitals. Adjusting monitors.
"We're taking him to run some tests—" A nurse was positioning the bed for transport.
They started wheeling him toward the door.
Scarlett stood there. Numb. The bed passed by Damon. He was standing in the doorway. Had probably been there the whole time.
As the bed rolled past him, Salvatore's left eye opened. Just a crack.
He looked directly at Damon. Winked.
His mouth curved up slightly. Just at the corner.
The expression was crystal clear: Kid, the things I do for you. Now don't screw this up. Get me a great-grandkid already.
Damon's face didn't move. Didn't react. But something flickered in his eyes. A mix of exasperation and grudging respect.
The bed disappeared down the hallway. The nurses following close behind.
Scarlett stood in the empty room. Staring after them.
Twenty minutes later, Dr. Morrison came out.
His expression was calm. Professional.
"He's stable." He pulled off his stethoscope. "Vitals are actually excellent. Just needs rest."
Scarlett blinked. "Excellent?"
"Remarkably good for a man his age." The doctor smiled. "Whatever happened in there seemed to... relieve his stress."
"Can we see him?" Damon asked.
"Actually, he specifically requested no visitors." Dr. Morrison checked his notes. "Said he doesn't want anyone fussing over him. Wants to rest."
"He insists you both go home," the doctor continued. "Get some rest yourselves. We'll call if anything changes."
Damon nodded. "Understood."
He put his hand on Scarlett's lower back. Guided her toward the exit.
She walked in a daze. Her mind spinning.
I just promised. In front of everyone. No divorce.
She'd said it. Out loud. To a room full of witnesses.
Damon's SUV was waiting. He opened the passenger door.
Scarlett climbed in. Sat down heavily.
She let out a long, deep sigh. Shoved her hands in her jacket pockets.
Her shoulders slumped. Her head dropped forward slightly.
She looked exactly like someone who'd just accepted their fate.