Chapter 10 The Wedding Arrangements #2
“I… I’m sorry,” he said, lowering his head apologetically. After a moment’s hesitation, he looked back up at her, concern tightening his features. His voice softened, turning cautious and pleading.
“Ever since you left the house… Mr. Sinclair hasn’t been eating properly. He skips meals. Sometimes entire days.”
He swallowed. “He’s been having chest pains frequently…”
He paused, then met her eyes directly, desperation clear in his gaze.
“Miss Bennett… I know things between you two weren’t good. I know he made mistakes.” His voice wavered slightly. “But Mr. Sinclair… he truly regrets everything.”
He hesitated, then added quietly, “Can you please… stay?”
His lips parted as if choosing his words carefully.
“He really… cares about you.”
Mia didn’t respond.
Not a single muscle in her face moved.
No anger. No sadness. No hesitation.
She turned away without another word and walked off, her footsteps steady and unhurried.
William watched her retreating figure, disappointment heavy in his eyes.
After a long moment, he sighed, turned back to the car, and carefully helped James out. James leaned heavily against him, his weight dragging as they moved him into the passenger seat of William’s car.
James sat slumped, eyes closed, one hand still pressed to his chest. His breathing was uneven, his face pale.
William’s heart sank, but he didn’t speak. He started the car and drove them away.
***
An hour later, Neil stood beside James’s hospital bed, hands casually shoved into his pockets, but the ease in his stance contrasted sharply with the tension radiating from the room.
James lay propped against the pillows, eyes open but vacant, staring at the ceiling. His face was hollow, color drained, and the exhaustion was etched into every line.
Neil, by contrast, leaned against the edge of the bed with an air of infuriatingly casual confidence. His smirk lingered in the quiet, dressed in simple, casual clothes rather than his usual tailored suit. He tilted his head, his tone light, teasing—but sharp enough to cut.
“Well, well,” he drawled, voice breaking the tense silence. “How did Mr. Sinclair end up bedridden?”
He chuckled, small but pointed, at the sight of James’s worn-out expression.
“It wouldn’t happen to have anything to do with your ex-wife… would it?”
James shut his eyes immediately, a sharp crease forming between his brows. He turned his face away, jaw tight, trying to block Neil out completely.
Neil’s sigh was loud and exaggerated, echoing around the room, irritation creeping in.
“How many times have I told you to stop being angry all the time and start eating properly? Look at you now—lying here like some patient on his deathbed.”
James opened his eyes slowly, the weight of exhaustion dragging his lids down. He turned his head back toward Neil, lips pressed into a thin, bitter line. In a low, sulky voice that barely masked the ache in his chest, he asked, “Mia didn’t come to see me?”
“She didn’t,” Neil replied quietly.
He reached for the phone on the bedside table, picked it up, and tilted the screen toward James. A message from the wedding planner glowed brightly.
Neil’s eyes narrowed, sharp and calculating. “I heard about your remarriage plan,” he said flatly, tone bordering on cold. “Have you convinced Mia yet—or are you planning to walk into the chapel alone?”
James’s expression tightened instantly. His hand shot out, snatching the phone from Neil’s grasp. He yanked the blanket up over himself, curling inward slightly, the weight of helplessness pressing down on him. A low, irritated grumble escaped his lips.
“I told you…” he muttered, voice rough with frustration, “I don’t want to talk about it.”
Neil’s patience fractured completely. He stepped closer, lowering his voice.
“Man, you shouldn’t have treated her like that in the past in the first place!” he said sharply. “I kept telling you to do better—to stop treating your wife so carelessly—but you never listened.”
His voice lowered, turning serious.
“You married a girl. She was supposed to be your wife. Someone you loved.” He paused. “Anyone would get tired after five years. No one waits forever, James.”
James turned his head away, his jaw clenching, anger and hurt settling deep in his expression.
***
Magnus walked briskly through the massive hospital corridor, his long strides echoing sharply against the sterile walls.
The sound of his shoes against the polished floor seemed to match the impatience radiating off him.
His eyes scanned the hallway with a predator’s focus, moving past nurses and visitors alike, until he reached a heavily guarded room.
The moment he stepped inside, he froze for half a heartbeat. Alexander lay sprawled on the bed, a bandage wrapped around his forehead, dark scratches streaking across his arms. His wounds looked raw, painful, and vulnerable—a rare sight for a man usually so composed.
Magnus’s jaw tightened, his face cold and incredulous.
“How the hell did your car flip over?” His voice cut sharply through the quiet, carrying a mix of anger and disbelief.
Alexander’s gaze was fixed on the dark night outside the window. He turned his head toward Magnus. His voice came out calm, almost careless, belying the tension behind his words.
“It’s nothing,” he murmured. “Mia was talking about her ex-husband, and… while driving back home, I just… lost control for a second. Didn’t see the turn. It’s not a big deal.”
Magnus’s eyes narrowed into a hard glare, every muscle in his face taut with frustration. One hand snapped to his belt, fingers digging into his side, while the other flew up to his forehead. He dragged it down his face, the gesture screaming exasperation and disbelief.
“Not a big deal?” His voice cracked with incredulity. “Look at yourself!”
He took a step closer, leaning slightly forward. “You’re lying in a goddamn hospital bed! Unconscious the entire day!” He jabbed a finger toward the bed, emphasizing each word. “How the hell is that not a big deal?”
Magnus’s chest heaved as he took a shallow breath, eyes blazing. His voice dropped, almost a growl, filled with raw frustration. “Tell me—are you really going to ignore your own life because your ex-wife brought up her ex-husband’s name?”
He shook his head sharply. “Is that really something that makes you this jealous?”
Alexander closed his eyes, pressing the back of his head deeper into the pillow, refusing to meet Magnus’s glare. “Wait until you fall in love,” he muttered, voice low and detached. “Then talk to me.”
Magnus crossed his arms over his chest, his gaze freezing Alexander in place.
“I would never lose my mind like you and Sebastian over a woman! You just need some goddamn presence of mind. It’s not serious!
So what if she mentioned her ex? What’s the big deal that makes you crash into a wall while thinking about it? ”
Alexander didn’t respond. Silence stretched in the room, broken only by the faint hum of the machines monitoring his vitals.
Magnus exhaled sharply, the breath tearing out of his chest as frustration rolled off him. His jaw tightened, a muscle ticking as he turned away from the bed for half a second, clearly restraining himself from saying something worse.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, his fingers punching the screen with unnecessary force. The device vibrated once in his hand as the call connected.
“Mia?”
The single word came out sharp and commanding.
At the sound of her name, Alexander’s eyes snapped open. He sucked in a breath and pushed himself up against the pillows, ignoring the dull pain tearing through his chest. His shoulders tensed, muscles going rigid, his gaze locking onto Magnus.
Magnus stepped closer to the bed, looming beside it as he continued speaking into the phone, his tone cold and decisive.
“Alexander was in a car accident,” he said bluntly. “He lost control and slammed the car straight into a wall.”
Alexander’s fingers curled into the sheets, knuckles whitening as he strained to hear the other end of the call.
“He’s at the hospital right now,” Magnus continued, his voice dropping lower, more dangerous. “Come see him. Immediately. Because if you don’t,” Magnus added, eyes flicking to Alexander before hardening again, “I’ll send my men to kidnap you from wherever you are.”
In the next second—
Alexander’s eyes turned lethal.
He lunged forward despite the pain ripping through his chest, snatching the phone out of Magnus’s hand with a sudden burst of strength.
“Don’t talk to my wife like that!” he snapped, his voice hoarse with anger, veins standing out along his neck.
Magnus stared at him for a beat, stunned—then his expression darkened.
“Fine!” he barked, irritation exploding out of him. “Do whatever the fuck you want—spoil her all your life for all I care!”
He huffed loudly, raking a hand through his hair, then turned sharply on his heel and stormed out of the room, the door swinging shut behind him with a sharp bang.
The room fell into an uneasy silence.
Alexander brought the phone back to his ear. He closed his eyes briefly, forcing himself to breathe through the tightness in his chest, pushing down the pain. When he spoke again, his voice was noticeably softer, gentler, as if afraid of scaring her away.
“Mia…” he said quietly. “Don’t pay attention to him.”
He swallowed, fingers tightening around the phone.
“You don’t have to worry. I’m fine,” he added, lying without hesitation. “It’s almost midnight. Don’t bother coming. Just go to sleep.”
On the other end of the line, there was no answer.
Only the faint sound of breathing—soft, distant.
Alexander waited.
Seconds stretched painfully.
Then the call ended.
An abrupt silence.
Alexander kept the phone pressed to his ear for another second, frozen. Slowly, his grip loosened. The phone slipped from his fingers and landed softly on the bed beside him.
He exhaled deeply, the breath shuddering out of him.
Disappointment tightened every line of his face, his jaw clenching as he turned his gaze toward the window. The city lights outside blurred faintly, reflecting back a lonely, fractured image of himself in the glass.
***
Barely half an hour later, Magnus strode through the hospital corridors again, walking fast, long strides eating up the distance. His attention was fixed on his phone, thumb scrolling absently.
He turned a corner without looking.
And collided straight into someone.
“Shit—” Magnus muttered, instinctively reaching out.
He grabbed the smaller figure by the arm to steady them before they stumbled back.
Then he froze.
Mia stood in front of him.
“Mia?” he said, shock flashing across his face. His eyes widened slightly. “You came?”
She looked up at him, her face composed, calm—but the faint line of tension between her brows gave her away. She didn’t waste time on pleasantries.
“Where is he?” she asked evenly. “Which room is Mr. Graves in?”
“Room number five,” Magnus replied automatically.
She turned at once and started walking.
Magnus reacted on instinct, catching her arm gently and pulling her back just enough to stop her. He stepped in front of her, blocking her path. This time, his expression had softened, the earlier aggression stripped away.
“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “For talking to you like that on the phone.”
Mia stilled, eyes flicking up to him.
“I didn’t mean to threaten you,” Magnus continued, voice lower now, more controlled. “I just… lost my temper.”
He hesitated, then added, more seriously, “He got into that accident after you talked about your ex. He lost control. That’s how he ended up like this. I was scared he would lose his mind again… like he did five years ago. Over you.”
Mia’s weight shifted slightly to one foot. Confusion sharpened in her eyes, a crease forming between her brows. “I’m sorry… I don’t understand. What do you mean, five years ago?”
Magnus froze. His jaw tightened and his eyes flicked away for a fraction of a second, almost instinctively, as if the words had slipped out before he could stop them.
“That bastard hasn’t told his wife anything about this madness over her?
What the hell is he doing pretending to be a goody two-shoes in front of her? ” he cursed silently.
He inhaled slowly, releasing it in a controlled breath, and gently let go of her arm, stepping back slightly to give her space. He straightened his shoulders before continuing.
“Five years ago when he found out that you had married someone else… he fell badly sick,” Magnus said carefully, his voice even but carrying a faint tremor of old worry.
“He crashed mentally, too. He was in Canada back then, studying, preparing to take over our business… but he became so sick he couldn’t even fly back.
We had to go there to take care of him.”
Magnus exhaled sharply, running a hand down the side of his face as if wiping away memories that still stung.
“It took him a long time to recover… to accept that you married someone else by choice,” he continued, voice heavy.
His eyes flicked briefly toward the hospital doors, then back to Mia.
“And it killed him… that his decision to wait, to meet you later when he was in a better position as a man, ended up costing him you. He regretted not confessing sooner. He’s been in love with you since the first time you met. ”
Mia stiffened, a sudden chill running down her spine as the weight of Magnus’s words sank deep into her chest. She had never imagined his feelings had run that deep—deep enough to break him when she married James.
The thought made her stomach twist, a sharp, gnawing worry she couldn’t hide, though she forced herself to stay composed.
She didn’t speak of it to Magnus. Instead, she gave a small, measured nod, her fingers brushing lightly against her coat as she whispered, “Thank you for telling me.”
Without another word, she turned and walked down the hospital corridor, each step measured, the soft click of her shoes against the polished floor echoing faintly. Her mind raced, but her outward composure remained flawless, masking the storm of emotions inside her.
When she reached the door to Alexander’s room, she paused for a fraction of a second, taking a deep breath before stepping inside.
Alexander’s voice cut through the quiet room sharply, a growl of frustration. “I told you—just leave me the fuck alo—”
He turned mid-shout toward the door and froze.
Mia stood there, framed in the doorway.