Chapter 128
Grace's POV
"Grace," Daisy said softly, "he made us promise not to tell you because he didn't want you to see him like this. You know how proud he is."
I nodded, understanding completely. Alex had always been so strong, so in control. The idea of me seeing him vulnerable would have been unbearable for him.
"The internal bleeding has stopped," Daisy continued, deliberately keeping her voice optimistic. "The spinal injury isn't as severe as we initially feared. He should wake up soon."
I knew she was hiding something—I could see it in the way she avoided my eyes when she mentioned the spinal injury. But I was grateful for her attempt to spare me additional worry.
"Can I... can I be alone with him for a while?"
They nodded and quietly left the room. Finally alone with Alex, I allowed myself to truly break down.
I approached his bedside carefully, afraid that even my presence might somehow hurt him. His hand lay motionless on the white sheet, and I gently took it in mine. It was cold, so different from the warm, strong hands that had held me just days ago.
"You promised to protect me for the rest of my life," I whispered, my voice breaking. "How can you do that if you don't take care of yourself?"
I traced the IV bruises on the back of his hand, my heart aching at every sign of his pain.
"Don't be afraid," I continued, leaning closer. "No matter how long it takes, I'll wait for you to wake up. We'll face whatever comes next together."
I rested my head gently against his shoulder, careful not to disturb any of the medical equipment. Please come back to me, I prayed silently. I can't lose you now.
---
Eight hours. That's how long I'd been here, and Alex still hadn't opened his eyes.
I heard voices in the hallway. Through the glass, I could see Violet standing with Lucas, holding an elegant gift box that looked expensive—probably some kind of premium supplement.
"How is he really?" Violet asked Lucas, her voice carrying that familiar note of concern that made my jaw tighten. "I need to know the details about Alex's condition."
She moved toward the door, but Lucas stepped smoothly into her path. His posture was respectful but unmistakably firm.
"Mrs. Morgan is inside providing care," Lucas said with quiet authority. "I'm sure you understand, Miss Cooper."
Whatever fantasy she'd been nursing, I hoped she would stop.
I walked toward the door and opened it. Violet's eyes met mine, and the air seemed to freeze between us. She looked down at the gift box in her hands, then back up at me with something that might have been shame.
"This is for Alex," she said quietly, extending the box toward me. "Some bird's nest soup supplements. Could you please give them to him, Grace?"
I took the box, noting it was still warm—she must have prepared it herself.
"Taking care of him is my responsibility as his wife," I replied evenly. "You don't need to worry about that, Miss Cooper."
The words came out colder than I'd intended, but I couldn't help it. Seeing her here, with her carefully prepared gifts and obvious devotion, made something twist uncomfortably in my chest.
Violet glanced through the door at Alex's still form one last time, her expression unreadable. As she turned to leave, Lucas stepped forward to explain to me.
"Miss Cooper is here as a project representative," he said diplomatically. "Mr. Morgan wasn't aware of her involvement with the project beforehand."
I nodded, accepting the explanation without emotion. The supplements were still warm in my hands—evidence of the care that had gone into preparing them. I handed the box to Lucas to deal with and turned back toward Alex's room.
Evening brought Eleanor and Daisy, carrying containers of homemade food that filled the sterile hallway with the scent of home cooking. They'd been trying to get me to rest, to eat something substantial, but I couldn't bring myself to leave Alex's side for more than a few minutes.
"Grace, honey, you haven't eaten anything since you arrived," Eleanor said gently, setting down a thermos of soup. "Alex wouldn't want you making yourself sick."
I managed a few spoonfuls to appease them, but everything tasted like cardboard. My stomach was too knotted with anxiety to process food properly.
The medical team arrived for their evening assessment, and I found myself studying every micro-expression on the doctors' faces, searching for clues about Alex's condition. The lead physician, Dr. Hartwell, reviewed Alex's charts with practiced efficiency.
"His temperature has returned to normal," Dr. Hartwell reported, "but we're seeing some inflammation around the surgical sites. We'll need to change the dressings more frequently."
My heart clenched as his expression grew more serious.
"I need to be frank with you about Mr. Morgan's condition," he continued. "The spinal and neurological damage is more extensive than we initially hoped. There's a real possibility of lasting complications, and we're particularly concerned about compromised blood flow to the brain."
The words hit me like ice water. Lasting complications.
"If he doesn't regain consciousness within the next forty-eight hours," Dr. Hartwell said carefully, "the local medical facilities may not be adequate for his needs. We'd need to arrange immediate transfer to a more advanced facility."
"But his current condition makes long-distance transport extremely risky," another doctor added. "And frankly, our equipment here has limitations."
Eleanor had already contacted the world's leading neurosurgical team, but even they couldn't arrive until tomorrow afternoon at the earliest. And even when they got here, Valhalla's medical infrastructure couldn't compare to the cutting-edge facilities back in Starport.
Every hour Alex remained unconscious increased the danger. Time had become our enemy.
I pressed my hands together to stop them from shaking, feeling cold dread creep up from my core. The Morgan family's influence could move mountains, but it couldn't change the brutal reality of Alex's injuries or the limitations of our current location.