Chapter 40 Kai
KAI
The doctor releases me on Thursday afternoon with a prescription bottle and a lecture about following instructions.
“Take these twice daily with food. No exceptions.” Dr. Matthews hands me the bottle like it’s a test I’ve already failed. “No strenuous activity for two weeks. That means no skiing, no heavy lifting, and definitely no whatever reckless thing you were planning in your head just now.”
“I wasn’t planning anything,” I lie.
“Yes, you were.” He looks at Dad, who’s standing by the door with his arms crossed. “Make sure he takes the medication. He’s got a habit of thinking he’s invincible.”
“I’ll handle it,” Dad says, and there’s no humor in his voice.
Dr. Matthews leaves, and Dad helps me into a wheelchair even though I insist I can walk fine. Hospital policy or whatever. We don’t speak until we’re in the SUV heading back to the private lodge.
“How are you feeling?” Dad asks, pulling onto the mountain road.
“Like I got hit by a truck.” I lean my head against the window, watching trees pass. “But alive, so that’s something.”
“You should have told us.” His voice is calm, but I hear the anger underneath. “About the condition. About the medication. About any of it.”
“I know.”
“You could have died, Kai. You almost did die.”
“I know,” I repeat, quieter this time.
He doesn’t push it further. We drive the rest of the way in silence that feels heavier than any lecture he could give me.
When we get to the lodge, Samantha’s waiting on the porch. She’s wearing one of my hoodies, three sizes too big, sleeves covering her hands. The moment the SUV stops, she’s at my door.
“You’re okay,” she breathes, and I see genuine relief in her eyes.
“I’m okay.” I let her help me out even though I don’t need it. “Doctor says I’m cleared for light activity. Whatever that means.”
“It means you’re not doing anything stupid for at least two weeks.” She slides under my arm, supporting my weight. “Which is going to kill you more than the heart condition.”
“Probably.”
Dad heads inside with my discharge papers while Samantha walks me slowly up the porch steps. Donovan’s in the main room, closing his laptop when he sees us.
“Welcome back,” he says. “You look like hell.”
“Feel like it too.” I drop onto the couch, and Samantha sits beside me, close enough that our thighs touch. “Where’s the lecture about being an idiot?”
“You already got that from Dad.” Donovan pours three glasses of whiskey and brings them over. “Now we’re just glad you’re alive.”
I take the glass but don’t drink. “Doctor said no alcohol with the medication.”
“Since when do you follow doctor’s orders?” Donovan raises an eyebrow.
“Since I collapsed and almost died.” I set the glass on the table. “Turns out that’s a decent motivator for lifestyle changes.”
Samantha’s hand finds mine, fingers lacing through. “I’m glad you’re taking it seriously.”
“Me too.” And I mean it. Lying on the floor, feeling my chest seize up while Dad called for help, was the most terrified I’ve been in my life. Not because I thought I might die, but because I realized how much I’d lose if I did.
This family. These people. The baby on the way. Samantha sitting beside me right now, holding my hand like I might disappear if she lets go. I don’t want to leave any of that behind because I was too stubborn to take a pill twice a day.
“Logan still hasn’t called,” Donovan says after a moment. “Dad tried reaching out yesterday. No response.”
“He’ll come around eventually.” But I don’t believe it, and neither does Donovan. Logan made his choice when he left with Chelsea, and it wasn’t us.
“Or he won’t,” Donovan says. “Either way, we move forward.”
Samantha shifts beside me, and I notice she’s been quiet. Too quiet. I turn to look at her properly and see exhaustion in her eyes. Dark circles. Tension in her shoulders.
“How are you holding up?” I ask.
“I’m fine.” The lie is obvious.
“Sam.”
She sighs and leans her head against my shoulder. “It’s been a lot. Robert leaving, you collapsing, everything with the baby. I feel like I’m waiting for the next disaster.”
“No more disasters,” I promise, even though I can’t guarantee it. “Robert’s gone. I’m on medication. Everything’s handled.”
She looks up at me. “What about Logan? What about the people Robert was working with? What if they come after you because of what I did?”
“They won’t,” Donovan says firmly. “Dad’s handling it. Trust him.”
She nods but doesn’t look convinced.
I pull her closer, ignoring the protest from my chest. “You’re stuck with us now. No getting rid of us, even if you wanted to.”
“I don’t want to.” Her voice is small. “That’s what scares me. I came here to destroy you, and now I can’t imagine leaving.”
“Good.” I press a kiss to the top of her head. “Because we’re not letting you go.”
We sit like that for a while. Samantha curled against my side, Donovan reviewing something on his tablet, Dad somewhere in his office handling business. It’s quiet and domestic in ways I never expected to want.
Later, after Donovan leaves to make dinner and Dad’s still working, Samantha shifts to face me properly. “I need to tell you something,” she says.
“Okay.”
“When you collapsed, I thought it was my fault.” Her eyes are wet. “All the stress I caused, the lies, the mess with Robert. I thought I killed you.”
“Sam, you didn’t—”
“I know that now. But in the moment, I was so sure.” She wipes at her eyes.
“And I realized that if you died, I’d never forgive myself.
Not because of the revenge plan or any of that.
But because I care about you. Really care.
And the thought of losing you was worse than anything Robert could threaten me with. ”
I cup her face in my hands, making her look at me. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m on medication now. Doctor’s orders. I’m following every rule because I want to be here for you and this baby and whatever chaos comes next.”
She laughs wetly. “You’re really going to follow the rules?”
“Shocking, I know.” I lean in and kiss her. Soft and gentle, nothing like the desperate encounters we’ve had before. This is different. Careful. Like she’s fragile and I’m trying not to break her.
She kisses me back, and her hands slide into my hair, pulling me closer. The kiss deepens, and I feel her shift, trying to climb into my lap.
I stop her with a hand on her hip. “Sam, wait.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. But the doctor said no strenuous activity for two weeks, and I’m pretty sure what you’re thinking about doing counts as strenuous.”
Her face flushes. “Oh. Right. I wasn’t thinking.”
“I was.” I kiss her again, quick and light. “Trust me, I want to. But I also want to be alive to do this properly when I’m cleared.”
She settles back against my side, and I feel her smile against my shoulder. “You’re really taking this seriously.”
“I really am.” I wrap my arm around her. “Turns out almost dying is a decent reality check.”
“Good.” She traces patterns on my chest through my shirt. “Because I need you around. All three of you. For a long time.”
“You’ve got us,” I promise. “For as long as you want.”
“Forever, then.”
“Forever works.”
We stay on the couch until Donovan calls us for dinner. When I stand, Samantha’s hand stays in mine, and I realize something that settles deep in my chest.
I spent a year hiding my condition because I thought it made me weak. Thought admitting I had a problem meant I couldn’t handle the dangerous side of the family business. That Dad and Donovan would see me differently.
But lying in that hospital bed, seeing their faces when I woke up, I realized they didn’t care about weakness or strength. They just cared that I was alive.
And now, walking into dinner with Samantha beside me and my medication sitting openly on the counter instead of hidden in my room, I understand what I was really afraid of.
Not that they’d see me as weak.
But that they’d care enough to make me stop living recklessly, and I’d have to admit I wanted to live more than I wanted to prove I was invincible.