Chapter 8

[Elara]

I stare at the phone, Hannah’s words replaying like a broken record in my mind.

Did Damon actually… sleep with her? Was she telling the truth?

But if not, why did she have his phone? What was she doing with him at this late hour?

My chest clenches at the irony.

Cora—his daughter, his own flesh and blood—is fighting for her life here, and Damon… he can’t even be bothered to care. Too busy making up for all the time he lost while his first love was gone.

Tears sting my eyes as I kneel beside her bed. “You deserve so much more than this. A happy home. A caring father. Loving grandparents…” I kiss the back of her tiny hand. “I used to tell myself that as long as Damon was nice to you, I would never bat any eye to anything he does to me. That as long as he cared and you were happy, I won’t ask for more. But I’m so disappointed in him right now. So damn disappointed.”

Gwen enters quietly, her eyes full of sympathy. “How are you holding up?”

“I’m fine. You can leave, you know? You don’t have to stay. Your parents would be worried.”

“Well, I don’t have parents, so I might as well stay,” she admits softly.

I freeze at what she just admitted and snap my head to face her. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know.”

She smiles, but it’s a sad one. “You didn’t know because I never told you. I don’t like talking about them.”

I manage a weak chuckle, though tears blur my vision. “I love her so much. But I’m terrified…”

“You don’t have to be.” To my surprise, Gwen throws her arms around me. “She’ll pull through. Believe me. She’s the sweetest and strongest girl I’ve ever seen.”

I believe her. I believe her despite this small fear in my heart.

Suddenly, a team of nurses and two doctors arrive.

“We need to prepare the patient for surgery. Please step out for a while,” one says.

Wait. So soon?

“Weren’t we supposed to wait until morning?” I ask, confused and a little desperate for answers. “Dr. Wilson talked about a heart specialist he invited. Shouldn’t we wait for them? What’s the rush?”

“Oh, he won’t be coming,” one of the residents says, and I freeze, already panicking.

“Why? Did he refuse to operate? Is it about money? We can pay more if that’s what he wants.” Damon did promise to provide for everything that might be needed.

I grab my phone, already dialing Jordan—his assistant.

“No need,” the resident replies. “Dr. Wolfe is here. According to Dr. Wilson, he has far more expertise than Dr. Timber. He might even be the best in the world.”

I blink, trying to process. Gwen squeezes my shoulder reassuringly. “Trust me. She’s in safe hands.”

I nod, trying to swallow the lump in my throat. The fear is still there, gnawing at the edges of my mind, but it’s quieter now.

The nurses start moving faster, preparing Cora for surgery, and I step back reluctantly.

My heart wants to follow her into the operating room—to hold her hand, never to let go—but I know I can’t.

Gwen and I settle onto the bench outside, waiting. I already texted Damon about the urgent surgery, but as usual, he doesn’t even check. I leave the same messages for his assistant and get a surprisingly quick response.

If only Damon were that considerate.

An hour later, when Cora is finally being wheeled into the OR, I hold her hand and kiss her forehead.

“Be brave for Mommy, okay, baby? I’ll be right here, waiting for you. Don’t you dare give up on me. You remember how you always talked about the world’s biggest amusement park? The one with the giant Ferris wheel and the cotton candy that’s bigger than your face?” I let out a shaky breath, forcing a smile through the tears. “If you pull through this—when you pull through this—Mommy will take you there. We’ll go together, I promise. Just… come back to me, Cora. Please, baby. Just come back.”

As they wheel Cora toward the operating room, my legs nearly give out.

The world tilts—the hallway spins, voices blur. Somewhere, a nurse calls my name, but it’s drowned under the pounding in my ears.

“Careful!”

Before I can fall, a pair of strong hands catches me from behind.

The touch is steady, sure, grounding me in a world that’s falling apart.

When I blink the haze away, I find myself looking up into the clearest blue eyes I’ve ever seen—calm, focused, and startlingly gentle.

“Easy,” he murmurs, his voice low, even. “You almost fainted.”

There’s something about the way he looks at me—familiar, like a memory I can’t fully place. My chest tightens with a strange recognition. Could it be…?

He guides me toward a nearby bench, one hand warm around my elbow, the other hovering near my back. He crouches in front of me, pressing a cup of water into my shaking hands.

“You haven’t eaten, have you?” His tone softens, and his gaze lingers, almost personal, almost intimate. “The surgery will take at least five hours. Try to drink something. She’ll need you strong when she wakes up.”

I nod, unable to form words. My throat burns, and my eyes remain locked on the closed doors at the end of the corridor. “Please…” I whisper, “don’t take her from me.”

“She’s in good hands, Mrs. Blackwood,” the same man says quietly, and I realize for the first time how his face is covered with a mask. “We’ll do everything we can.”

For a brief moment, that quiet reassurance is enough to hold me together. My vision swims again, and when I sway forward, he instinctively reaches out, his hand brushing my shoulder to keep me steady.

That’s the exact moment a sharp voice slices through the corridor.

“Elara!”

The sharpness of the voice cuts through the quiet like a knife. I freeze, my head snapping up. Damon is storming down the hallway, his face thunderous. The moment his eyes land on me leaning against the doctor, his grip is on my arm before I even realize.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing,” he growls, yanking me back, “being this close to some stranger?”