Chapter 11—LAST WARNING!

MICHAEL

“Excuse me, where can I find a private room where I can speak with my wife?”

The nurse looked up from the computer in front of her and studied me for a moment before glancing toward Rhonda, who stood a few feet behind me with tears still streaking her face. The entire situation had become a spectacle, and although I understood that she had been frightened for our son, I could not accept the way she had behaved in the middle of the hospital. I needed somewhere away from the curious eyes of the nurses, patients, and visitors, somewhere I could speak to her without an audience and make her understand that whatever problems existed between us would not be dragged into public again.

“There are family consultation rooms down the next corridor,” the nurse explained respectfully. “The second door on the left should be empty. You can use it if you need somewhere private.”

“Thank you.”

I turned without waiting for another word and walked toward the corridor. I didn't have to check whether Rhonda was following me because I could hear her footsteps behind me, and when we reached the room, I opened the door and allowed her to enter before following her inside. I closed the door behind us, locked it, and turned around slowly.

Rhonda was standing near the center of the room with her arms folded tightly across her chest, her face still wet from crying, but the fear and grief she had displayed outside had already been replaced by the familiar defiance I had come to recognize.

I stared at her for several seconds before speaking.

“What was that nonsense you pulled out there?”

Her eyebrows immediately pulled together.

“What are you talking about?”

“You know exactly what I'm talking about, Rhonda. You slapped me in front of everyone, screamed at me as though I had deliberately hidden our son's accident from you, accused me of wanting him dead, and then you had the audacity to raise your hand against the head surgeon who had just spent hours saving his life. Do you have any idea how ridiculous you made yourself look?”

Her expression hardened.

“Ridiculous? That's what you're worried about?”

“Yes, I am worried about it because you are my wife, and whether you like it or not, your actions reflect on me as much as mine reflect on you.”

She gave a bitter laugh and shook her head.

“Of course. I should have remembered that your reputation matters more than my son lying unconscious in a hospital bed.”

“Don't twist my words.”

“Then tell me what I am supposed to think, Michael. You brought our son here without telling me anything, and I had to call you myself before you finally admitted that he had been injured. If I hadn't called you, how long were you planning to keep me in the dark?”

“I wasn't trying to keep you in the dark.”

“Then what were you doing?”

“I was trying to save his life!”

My voice rose despite my attempt to remain calm.

“He fell from the second floor, Rhonda. He was bleeding, he wasn't responding, and I thought I was going to lose him. I wasn't thinking about anything except getting him here as quickly as possible. By the time we arrived, there were doctors everywhere, people were shouting instructions, and I was terrified. I made a mistake by not calling you, but it wasn't because I didn't care about you or because I wanted to hide our son's condition.”

Rhonda's eyes filled again, but instead of softening, her anger seemed to grow.

“You should have called me.”

“I know.”

“You should have told me that he was hurt.”

“I know.”

“You should have let me know that my child was fighting for his life while I was somewhere else completely unaware.”

“I have already told you that I am sorry.”

“And you think saying sorry makes it disappear?”

“No, I don't.”

“Then stop acting as though I am the problem because I was angry.”

“I never said you were the problem. I said you crossed a line when you humiliated me in front of everyone.”

Rhonda stared at me in disbelief.

“You are unbelievable.”

I felt my wolf stir beneath my skin, irritated by the continued disrespect, and when I stepped closer, I could feel the Alpha inside me pushing against the restraint I had been forcing upon myself since we entered the room.

“You need to be careful with the way you speak to me.”

“How dare you talk to me like that?”

She lifted her chin, refusing to look away.

“Who do you think you are?”

I stared directly into her eyes.

“I am your Alpha.”

For several seconds, there was complete silence.

Then Rhonda laughed.

It was a mocking, humorless laugh that made my jaw tighten.

“Oh, Alpha, forgive my manners,” she said, giving an exaggerated little gesture with her hands. “I should have clapped for you out there while my son was lying on a hospital bed fighting for his life. Perhaps I should have bowed too, just to make sure everyone understood how important you are.”

My eyes narrowed.

“Don't forget that he is my son too.”

Rhonda's laughter disappeared.

“I don't think so.”

I took another step toward her.

“What did you just say?”

“I said I don't think so.”

“He is my son.”

“You may call him your son, but I don't think you love him.”

Something cold moved through me.

“You should choose your next words very carefully.”

“You don't love him,” she said, her voice trembling with anger. “Not the way a father should love his son. If you did, you would understand why I was so terrified when I couldn't reach you. You would understand why I lost control when I found out that our child had been brought here without anyone telling me.”

My eyes narrowed as I stared at her. “If I didn't love him, Rhonda, do you honestly think I would have spent the last several hours fighting to keep him alive? If I didn't love that boy, I would have left him there and let someone else deal with him. I carried him in my own arms when he was bleeding and unconscious. I stayed beside him until the doctors took him into surgery, and I was there when they finally brought him out. Don't stand here and tell me that I don't love my own son.”

“You were there today,” she argued, tears still sliding down her cheeks. “That doesn't prove anything about all the years before now.”

“All the years?” I repeated, my voice dropping dangerously low. “I have been there since the day he was born. I was the one who held him when he took his first breath. I was the one who stayed awake through the nights when he wouldn't stop crying. I was there for his first steps, his first words, his first day of school, and every other moment you seem to have conveniently forgotten.”

Her lips parted, but I continued before she could interrupt.

“While you were busy gallivanting around and living your life however you pleased, I was the one who stayed behind and cared for him. I was the one making sure he had everything he needed. So don't stand in front of me now and question whether I love my son simply because I made one terrible mistake today.”

Rhonda's face tightened.

“I was not gallivanting around.”

“Then where were you?”

“I had a life too, Michael.”