Chapter 12
Lucas
The hospital’s postpartum floor never slept.
The lights were always on, a fog of antiseptic and white noise, nurses moving in and out with the tireless cadence of disaster.
I spent two nights in the waiting room, drinking vending-machine coffee and watching other families cycle in and out, new fathers shuffling by with flowers and balloons, the living advertisements for hope.
When I was finally allowed to see her, Bella was propped against a mountain of pillows, hair slicked to her scalp, eyes glittering with fever and something older than exhaustion. The moment I entered, she looked away from the window and locked eyes with me, not blinking, not even a little.
I sat. She watched, unsmiling.
“I need to tell you something,” I said.
She nodded, once.
“It was never just work,” I said. “With Victoria.”
Her mouth twitched, not quite a smile. “I know.”
I kept going, because that was the only way to kill the lie.
“It started with messages. Meetings. The night of the merger, it became more. I tried to stop. I failed.”
Bella’s hand moved over the blanket, fingers worrying the hem.
“There was a hotel in New York,” I said. “The night before Grace.”
She pressed her lips together, exhaled. “How many times?”
“Three. Maybe four. I lost count after the first.”
She closed her eyes, the muscles in her jaw tightening. When she spoke again, her voice was so quiet I almost missed it.
“Why did you come back?”
Because I wanted to save us, I almost said. Because the idea of losing her was worse than losing myself.
“I didn’t want to lose you,” I said.
A long silence. Grace’s name ticked off the monitor behind her, slow and steady, the only proof that something good had survived.
Bella looked at me again, her face perfectly still. “Did you love her?”
I shook my head. “No. I loved how she made me feel: needed. Like I was still… worth something.”
She digested this, then nodded.
“Did you ever think about me?” she asked. Not a plea. Just an accounting.
“Every day.”
She picked at the edge of the blanket, then stopped. Her hand went to her left ring finger, twisting the band in slow, deliberate circles. I watched her remove it, the gesture so careful it was almost reverent.
She held it out to me, palm flat.
“You promised I’d never be alone in this again,” she said. “You promised.”
I took the ring. I put it in my pocket. I didn’t ask for forgiveness. I didn’t deserve it.
She lay back, let her eyes drift toward the ceiling.
“Tell the nurse I need to see my daughter,” she said, her voice already gone.
Christian met me outside the room, leaning against the wall, arms folded like a bouncer at the world’s worst club.
“You’re not going back in,” he said.
I nodded. “I wasn’t planning to.”
He looked at me, his disappointment so absolute it felt like gravity.
“I tried to be better,” I said, not even sure if he’d asked.
He laughed, humorless. “You broke her, Lucas. We’re supposed to protect our own.”
I shrugged. “I’m not like you and Hunter. I always wanted to be, but—”
He cut me off. “You broke your promise. Dad fucked up, Hunter fucked up, but you—” He searched for the right word. “You gave her hope. That’s what you destroyed.”
I didn’t argue. I’d already lost.
He let me walk away, but not before saying, “She needs time. A lot of it.”
I wandered the halls, counting the tiles, replaying every word I’d ever said to Bella, every moment I could have chosen differently.
When I found myself outside the NICU, I pressed my forehead to the glass and watched the rows of tiny bodies in their plastic cots.
I spotted Grace, a nurse tending to her like she was the only thing in the world.
I tried to imagine myself on the other side of that glass, part of her life.
But I wasn’t allowed in. Bella had made that clear.
I stayed until the nurse dimmed the lights and wheeled the babies to a darker corner. I put my hand to the glass, just for a second, then turned and walked out into the early-morning dark.
The cold hit me like a confession. I stood there, every breath fogging the air, the ring heavy in my pocket, the hospital behind me already erasing my presence.
I had no idea what came next.
But I knew I’d have to earn it, one breath at a time.