Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
Lucas
After Ella's mother left, the staff finally rushed through the door, still rattled from what they'd witnessed.
"You need to step out. We have to run emergency tests on the patient." The doctor and nurses scrambled to help Maya up, anxiety sharp in their voices after the delay.
I grabbed Ella's wrist and pulled her out of the chaos. She was falling apart, her body so limp I had to wrap an arm around her waist just to keep her upright.
The family waiting area was at the end of the hall. I guided Ella into a chair, then went to the water cooler and filled a cup. Handed it to her.
"Take a breath," I said quietly.
She took it mechanically, but her hands shook so badly the water nearly spilled. I steadied her wrist and helped guide the cup to her lips.
The water wet her mouth. After a few minutes, color crept back into her face, from deathly pale to something closer to normal.
I watched her the whole time. Her profile looked exhausted under the fluorescent lights, deep circles carved beneath her eyes. But even like this, she was so beautiful I couldn't look away.
Her lips had gone white from biting down too hard. Her lashes were long, casting shadows on her cheeks. Those lashes were still wet with tears, catching the light like shattered diamonds. She looked so fragile she might break at a touch.
My throat tightened.
She looked like she should make me feel protective. Instead, I felt something I shouldn't.
I wanted to kiss her. Wanted to pull her close and kiss her hard—punishment for nearly a month of her freezing me out. But this wasn't the time. She'd just been beaten and humiliated. She needed comfort, not my goddamn desire.
I turned away, took a deep breath, and tried to get myself under control.
"Why did you leave without a word?" I finally asked the question I'd been holding for nearly a month.
No response. Like punching cotton—nothing came back. Being ignored like this pissed me off.
"Why won't you answer my calls?" I kept my voice low, demanding, "I called you a hundred times. What couldn't you say over the phone?"
Ella finally reacted. She looked up, those ice-blue almond eyes meeting mine. Her lids were swollen, tears still pooling, but the sadness in her gaze made my chest constrict.
"You're seriously asking me that?" Her voice shook, water sloshing from the cup. "Two years, Lucas. Two whole years. How many times did you answer my calls? Return my texts?"
"That's different." I heard myself say it, but there was no conviction in my voice. "I was busy with work!"
It was bulletproof in Manhattan. Time converted to dollars, busy meant successful. I'd used that excuse to deflect every useless obligation. But now, facing Ella's empty stare, it sounded pathetic.
"How is it different?" Ella's expression was blank. "Lucas, what makes you think your work is always more important than me?"
I opened my mouth, instinctively wanting to argue, to tell her what I'd said a thousand times before, that staying at Rockefeller Manor meant she didn't have to struggle for survival.
But after she left, this past month showed me how much she'd actually done.
Running a home wasn't cold numbers. Grandfather needed her.
Mrs. Hughes needed her. Even the charities she supported.
.. She was the grease that kept everything running perfectly.
I never had to worry about a thing, so I'd gotten used to nothing happening and ignored everything Ella contributed.
Until she left. Then the manor became a soulless concrete shell.
I was wrong.
The realization hit hard. I wanted to say those words, but my throat closed up.
"I've been swamped the past six months, so much that I overlooked you." I softened my voice, reaching out. "If you need to get away, I can make time to—"
She laughed bitterly, her eyes colder than I'd ever seen. "Lucas, I don't have time for your same old excuses."
I froze. When did Ella start seeing me like this?
"You're not the only one who's busy. I'm busy too," Ella said, looking past my shoulder. "Taking care of my sister. Studying for exams."
Footsteps rushed up behind me. I turned to see the attending physician from earlier, striding over with his mask pulled down, his expression grim.
"Miss Bruce. Your sister's condition is critical. All her vitals are alarming. She absolutely cannot handle any more stress."
Ella's body trembled. She dropped her head, voice hoarse. "Can I see her now?"
The doctor nodded. "She needs family supervision all day today."
Ella thanked him. She ran to the room, opened the door, went inside, and locked it behind her.
One smooth motion. Without even glancing at me.
I stood in that hallway, staring at the closed door, fists clenched.
No woman had ever rejected me like this. In Manhattan, one frown from me had people scrambling to read my mood. But here, in this ordinary, aging public hospital, my own wife shut me out completely.
Only Ella—she left divorce papers, blocked my number, and brushed me off to my face.
Again and again.
The plastic chairs in the waiting area were uncomfortable as hell, but I sat down anyway. I reached for a cigarette without thinking and didn't even get to light it before a passing nurse stopped me. I crushed the cigarette in my palm and stared blankly at the people around me.
I didn't know why I was still sitting here. Maybe waiting for Ella. Maybe just trying to calm down.
A couple in the corner caught my eye. The man wore a loose hospital gown, didn't look good. The woman seemed about to leave, bag on her shoulder, but before she went, she stood on her toes and kissed the corner of his mouth.
The man's face broke into a dopey smile. The woman looked at him with love so thick it was almost visible.
I watched them, suddenly unable to breathe.
I'd seen that look in Ella's eyes once.
But I had no idea when it disappeared.
As a husband, I'd been completely oblivious to my wife's changing feelings. I'd taken her love for granted, like air. Thought air would always be there—until now, suffocating, realizing I couldn't breathe at all.
An unfamiliar regret pulsed through my chest, spreading through my blood to every limb. I regretted not realizing sooner what Ella meant to me.
My phone buzzed twice. I pulled it out and declined the call.
I glanced at the screen, dozens of unread messages piling up.
I was running out of time. Before coming to Rochester, I hadn't been sure I'd find Ella, so I'd only taken one day. In that time, the company had accumulated urgent documents needing my signature, plus new projects requiring my direction.
I had to go.
I took one last look at that closed door, burning every detail of this hospital into my brain.
Just as I stood up, a brown-haired man in a white coat and mask jogged up to Maya's room and knocked.
I stopped.
The door opened quickly. Ella stood in the doorway. When she saw the man, her face broke into a smile. Weak, but genuine. Then she stepped aside and let him in.
I couldn't move. The overhead fluorescents made me dizzy.
The man's face was covered, but something about him seemed familiar.
If he took off that mask, maybe I'd recognize him.
Or maybe I was overthinking it—staring too long creating false connections.
That ordinary face was everywhere. He was probably just doing rounds.
Even so, the fact that a random guy could be alone in a room with Ella made my blood boil.
I'd flown halfway across the state from Manhattan to find her. Got a slammed door and mockery in return.
Something vicious crashed through my chest, screaming at me to burst in there, drag Ella back, demand to know what the hell gave her the right to treat me like this.
But I held back. I knew our relationship was already fragile as thin ice, ready to tear. I didn't want to destroy what little remained over baseless jealousy.
I strode out of the ward.
Rochester's cold wind hit me hard, cooling my jealousy-scorched brain. I pulled out my phone and dialed.
"Find me the best private security company in Rochester." I reached my car, controlling my breathing. "I need twenty-four-hour surveillance and protection. Target is a female. I'll send you her photo and current address."
"Understood, Mr. Rockefeller. Specific requirements?"
"Watch her every move. Who she contacts, where she goes, report to me regularly." I paused. "And she absolutely cannot know. If you get exposed, you're done in this business."
"Don't worry, Mr. Rockefeller. We're professionals."
I hung up. Got in the car.
I knew Ella too well. If she found out I had her monitored, she'd see it as an invasion of privacy. Might push her even harder toward leaving me.
But I didn't care anymore. I couldn't let her get hurt again. Couldn't let her face another day like today—watching over her dying sister while dealing with her abusive, unstable mother.
It was too much for her to carry alone.
And I had another reason. Selfish, maybe even sick.
Ella could run from Rockefeller Manor, move to Rochester, this nowhere I'd never heard of. Could ignore my calls, delete my texts, treat every attempt I made like it didn't exist.
But she could not escape my sight.
Because as long as she was my wife, even for one more day, she always would be.
I would not sign those goddamn divorce papers. Ever.