Entwined (The Bitter Vow #3)

Chapter 1

I sat in the corner of the hospital room, the sterile smell of antiseptic mixing with the faint scent of the lilies I’d brought in from the greenhouse.

Colson had always hated lilies. He said they reminded him of funerals, but I needed something, anything, to chase away the scent of death that seemed to linger in the air.

I watched as he slept, his chest rising and falling in shallow breaths. He looked almost peaceful, his face less gaunt than it had been just days ago. The treatments were working—at least enough to give us more time.

I clung to that hope like a lifeline, praying that he could hold on long enough to meet our child.

I knew it was a long shot, but it was all I had left.

The doctors hadn’t given us much to go on, their words carefully measured, offering small glimmers of hope without promising anything concrete.

But Colson had gained some strength back, enough to keep fighting, and that was more than I’d dared to hope for.

He stirred, and I straightened in my chair, my heart pounding as his eyes fluttered open. For a moment, he seemed disoriented, his gaze unfocused as he tried to orient himself. Then his eyes found mine, and a small, weary smile tugged at his lips.

“Joey,” he rasped, his voice still weak, but stronger than it had been in days.

I crossed the room quickly, taking his hand in mine. It was warmer now, the color slowly returning to his skin. “I’m here,” I said, squeezing his hand gently. “How are you feeling?”

He sighed, closing his eyes for a moment as if gathering his thoughts. “Better… I think,” he murmured, his voice rough around the edges. “The treatment… it’s helping.”

I nodded, a tight smile on my lips. “It is. You’re getting stronger.”

His eyes opened again, and for the first time in weeks, there was a spark of the old Colson in them—a glimmer of the man who had been so strong, so untouchable. “But I’m still dying,” he said quietly, the words like a knife to my heart.

I swallowed hard, forcing myself to stay composed. “Yes,” I admitted, my voice trembling just a little. “But you’re fighting, and that’s all that matters right now.”

He watched me, his gaze piercing, as if he could see through the walls I’d carefully constructed around my emotions. “You always were a terrible liar, Joey,” he said, a hint of amusement in his tone.

I huffed out a laugh, blinking back the tears that threatened to fall. “Maybe, but I’m a damn good advocate,” I shot back, giving his hand another squeeze. “And you need someone to be strong for you right now.”

His expression softened, and he looked at me with something that felt like gratitude. “You’ve always been strong,” he said, his voice softer now, almost tender. “I just never realized how much until now.”

I smiled, a real one this time, and leaned down to press a kiss to his forehead. “Well, I’m not going anywhere,” I whispered against his skin. “You’re stuck with me, whether you like it or not.”

He chuckled, the sound a little strained but genuine. “I think I can live with that.”

The words hung in the air between us, both of us fully aware of the irony. Neither of us said anything for a moment, the silence heavy but not uncomfortable. It was as if we were both waiting, hoping that the other would say something that could make this all better, but knowing that nothing could.

Finally, Colson broke the silence, his voice more serious now. “Joey… if I don’t make it…”

“Stop,” I interrupted, my voice firm. “We’re not talking about that. Not today.”

He frowned, but I could see the exhaustion in his eyes, the way the fight seemed to be draining out of him. “You can’t avoid it forever,” he said, a touch of frustration in his tone.

“I know,” I replied, my voice softer now. “But today, we focus on you getting stronger. We focus on the fight, not what happens if we lose.”

He looked at me for a long moment, and I could see the conflict in his eyes. He wanted to argue, to push back, but he was too tired, too worn down. Finally, he nodded, letting out a breath he’d been holding. “Okay,” he agreed, his voice barely more than a whisper. “Okay, Joey.”

I sat back down beside him, my hand still in his, and we fell into a comfortable silence.

The machines beeped steadily, a reminder of the fragile balance we were trying to maintain.

I watched him as he drifted back to sleep, his breathing slow and steady, and for the first time in a long time, I allowed myself to hope.

Hope that he might make it long enough to hold our child in his arms. Hope that, even in the face of the inevitable, we could still find some small measure of happiness together.

And as I sat there, watching over him, I realized that the power struggle between us was gone. Colson needed me now, more than he ever had before, and I was more than ready to be the strong one—for both of us.

“Josephine,” Colson called.

I awoke, wiping the drool from my cheek. I fell asleep while my husband was talking, exhausted from the past few days. I practically lived in his room, working from my laptop while I sat on the luxury couch against the windows. The wealthy lived differently even when they were in hospitals.

Colson had a private room with beautiful décor and a separate four piece bath where I’d been taking showers each day.

“Yeah,” I said, wiping sleep from my eyes.

The first trimester was kicking my ass. I wasn’t always nauseous, but fatigue pulled at me and Colson’s condition didn’t help.

“You should go home.”

I stared at him. “That’s not happening.”

“Then I’ll go home. I don’t need to be here.”

He hit the button on his bed and the hydraulics sat him almost upright in bed.

“You need to be here.”

“I don’t. I can be transported for treatments. I can walk, I’m eating. I don’t want to stay here any longer.”

I yawned then rose from the couch, smoothing the wrinkles in my slacks. Across the room, I caught Colson’s gaze as it darkened.

“I hate you in pants…I really do.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. “Always trying to control me.”

Colson held out his hand. “Come here.”

I did as he asked, slipping mine hand into his.

He gently squeezed it and pulled me toward him for a kiss.

I missed the intimacy we shared, and I kissed him back with hunger.

In true Colson fashion, he gripped my hair, sliding his tongue past my lips.

A sarcastic laugh from somewhere in the room broke us apart.

“Father,” Vaughn said. “It doesn’t surprise me that you’re still trying to act like nothing is wrong.”

“Vaughn!” I ground out.

In his eyes, I could see the hurt he was feeling. He was using sarcasm to hide his emotions. As competitive as he was with his father, he didn’t want to lose him. Colson held up his hand.

“It’s all right, Joey. My son doesn’t have a compassionate bone in his body. Don’t let it bother you.”

I clenched my jaw as I backed away from Colson, brushing by Vaughn with an air of superiority. His father was dying, and he couldn’t put aside his shitty attitude.

“I came to discuss the Svensen deal – unless you want me to handle it on my own.”

Colson frowned. “Since I set it up and all the interactions for the deal with Karl have been through me, I think it’s best I close it.”

Vaughn let out a frustrated breath. “I thought with your condition…Karl wants to have dinner at Toast tonight to discuss a few details.”

Colson shoved the covers off. I jumped up from the couch where I had settled.

“You’re not going anywhere!” I yelled. “Let Vaughn handle it.”

Vaughn stepped back as Colson slid off the bed.

“What time?” he said, pressing the button for the nurse.

I stepped in between the two men, hugging my husband. “You can’t do this. You need rest,” I whispered.

“Josephine, I’m not dead yet. I can still work.”

He placed a kiss on my cheek as the nurse entered the room. “I need you to remove these,” he said, gesturing to the tubes in his arms. “And have the doctor draw up discharge papers. I’m going home.”

“Sir?”

“Now!”

Despite my husband’s sickness, the old Colson was back – commanding, domineering and ready to rule the world. I threw up my hands in exasperation while Vaughn smiled, stepping back to let the nurse do her work.

Colson was determined, and I knew better than to try and stop him.

He was like a man possessed, every movement deliberate as he pulled on the crisp suit he had been brought into the hospital with.

His hands trembled as he buttoned the shirt, and I could see the beads of sweat forming on his forehead.

His breath came in short, shallow gasps, but his eyes were steely with resolve.

“Colson, please,” I whispered, my voice barely holding back the panic I felt. “You don’t have to do this. Let Vaughn handle the meeting.”

He shot me a look, one that silenced any further protest. “I need to do this, Joey,” he said, his voice firm but strained. “This deal with Svensen—it’s too important to let slip through my fingers.”

I bit my lip, trying to hold back the tears that threatened to spill. “But you’re not well enough…”

“I’ve got Vaughn with me,” he interrupted, his tone softer now. “He’ll handle things if… if anything goes wrong.”

The thought of Vaughn going with him was the only thing that kept me from breaking down completely.

Vaughn had been Colson’s right hand for years, the one person who knew how to navigate the treacherous waters of business as well as Colson did.

If anything happened, Vaughn would take care of it.

He’d make sure Colson got back to the hospital safely.

I helped him with his tie, my fingers brushing against his skin as I tightened the knot.

He was warm, but there was a chill beneath it, like the warmth of a fire slowly dying out.

“I’ll be waiting at home,” I said quietly, hoping he would see the desperation in my eyes, hoping it would be enough to make him reconsider.

Colson cupped my cheek with one hand, his thumb brushing away a tear that had escaped. “I’ll be back before you know it,” he promised, but even he couldn’t hide the uncertainty in his voice.

I nodded, unable to speak. Vaughn appeared in the doorway, his expression unreadable, but I knew he understood. He was the only one who truly knew how fragile Colson was, how precarious this entire situation had become.

“Let’s go,” Vaughn said, his voice calm, almost reassuring. “The car’s ready.”

Colson straightened his jacket and gave me one last look before he followed Vaughn out of the room. I watched them leave, feeling like my heart was being ripped out of my chest with every step they took. The door clicked shut behind them, and I was left alone with my fear.

Outside the hospital, I knew the reporters were swarming.

They’d been camped out for days, speculating on what could be wrong with Colson Ashworth, the man who had built an empire.

They didn’t know, of course, but it wouldn’t be long before they pieced it together.

Colson’s pale complexion, his unsteady gait—it was only a matter of time before the truth came out.

The drive back to the Ashworth mansion felt like a blur, my thoughts consumed with worry.

I didn’t even notice the reporters lining the road until I was almost home.

Their cameras flashed as I drove by. I thank God the windows were tinted so they couldn’t see inside.

They were vultures, waiting for the slightest hint of weakness.

By the time I pulled into the driveway, I was a wreck.

The weight of everything—the pregnancy, Colson’s illness, the future that seemed so uncertain—crashed down on me all at once.

I barely made it inside before the tears started to fall, hot and uncontrollable.

I leaned against the door, trying to catch my breath, but the sobs kept coming, tearing through me like a storm.

I was so lost in my grief that I didn’t hear Logan until he was almost past me, heading toward the guest house.

I caught sight of him through my tears, his tall frame moving with purpose, and suddenly, I needed him.

I needed my brother, the one person who had always been there for me, even when everything else was falling apart.

“Logan!” I called out, my voice choked with emotion.

He stopped, turning to look at me, his expression shifting from surprise to concern in an instant. “Joey?” He hurried back to me, his arm around my waist as he guided me inside. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

I couldn’t hold it in any longer. “It’s Colson,” I cried, burying my face in my hands. “I don’t know if he’s going to make it and I’m pregnant, and I’m so scared I’ll have to do this alone.”

Logan’s arms were around me in a heartbeat, holding me close as I sobbed into his chest. “You’re not alone,” he whispered, his voice strong and comforting. “You’ll never be alone, Joey.”

I clung to him, letting his words wash over me, a balm to my shattered heart. I knew he meant every word, but the fear, the uncertainty—it was all still there, lurking in the shadows, waiting to consume me. But for now, in Logan’s arms, I found a small measure of peace.