48' HOURS

Friday. 6:00 AM.

The city was still asleep.

I was already dressed. White again. I couldn’t help it. It was for Liam.

Damian was in the kitchen. Coffee in one hand. Phone in the other.

He hadn’t slept. I could see it in his eyes.

“You ready?” he asked. Voice low.

I nodded. Couldn’t speak. My throat was too tight.

The car ride was silent. His hand found mine on the seat.

Held it. Tight.

Cole Private Hospital. 7th floor. Surgical wing.

Everything was white. Too clean. Too quiet.

Dr. Harris met us. “Mr. Cole. Ms. Sinclair. We’re ready.”

“Where’s Liam?” I whispered.

“Pre-op. Room 710. He’s asking for you.”

I ran.

---

Liam was in a tiny hospital gown. IV in his arm. But he was smiling.

“Avi! Are you nervous?”

“Terrified,” I admitted, sitting on the edge of his bed.

“Don’t be.” He took my hand with his small one. “The doctor said this will make me better. Then we can go to the park. And you promised me ice cream.”

“I did.” My voice broke. “And I’m keeping that promise.”

The door opened.

Damian.

He stopped when he saw us.

For a second his mask cracked.

I saw it. The fear. The guilt. The 9-year-old boy inside him who couldn’t save his own mother.

He cleared his throat. “Hey, champ.”

Liam’s eyes lit up. “Mr. Cole! You’re here!”

“I said I would be.” Damian came closer. Sat on the other side of the bed.

“You gonna be brave for me?”

Liam nodded. “Can you stay till they take me?”

Damian looked at me. I nodded.

“Yeah,” he said, voice rough. “I’m not going anywhere.”

The next 30 minutes were a blur.

Nurses. Forms. Goodbyes.

“See you soon, Avi.” Liam hugged me.

Then he hugged Damian.

“Thank you, Mr. Cole. For saving me.”

Damian froze. Then his hand came up. Ruffled Liam’s hair.

“Don’t thank me yet, kid. You still have to beat this.”

They wheeled him out.

And my world stopped.

---

Waiting room.

12 hours.

That’s what they said.

Damian didn’t sit. He paced.

Suit jacket off. Sleeves rolled up. Phone in hand but he wasn’t looking at it.

Every 30 minutes a nurse would come out.

“No updates yet. Surgery is going well.”

By hour 4, I couldn’t take it.

I stood. “I need air.”

Damian followed me. “Ava—”

“Don’t.” I went to the window. Looked at the city. “What if it doesn’t work? What if—”

“Don’t.” His hands came to my shoulders. Turned me around.

“Don’t say that.”

“What if I lose him, Damian? What if I signed that contract and I still lose him?”

His jaw tightened. “You won’t.”

“How do you know?!”

“Because I won’t let it.” His eyes were wild. Desperate. “I bought the best doctors. The best equipment. I paid for the experimental protocol. I—”

“You can’t buy this,” I said quietly. “You can’t buy him being okay.”

He flinched like I’d hit him.

The truth was, he was trying to buy control.

Because 15 years ago, he couldn’t.

“Damian,” I said softly. “Come here.”

I pulled him to the chairs. Made him sit.

Then I did something I never thought I would.

I climbed into his lap. Wrapped my arms around him.

He was stiff at first.

Then his arms came around me. Tight.

Like I was the only thing keeping him together.

“I’m scared too,” he whispered into my hair. “God, Ava. I’m so scared.”

“I know.”

“For my mom. I was 17. I watched her die in a room like that. And I couldn’t do anything.”

His voice cracked. “And now your brother... what if I can’t save him either?”

“You already did,” I said. “You got him here. You got him the best care. The rest... the rest isn’t on you.”

He didn’t answer. Just held me tighter.

Hour 8.

No updates.

We hadn’t moved.

I was asleep on his chest. He was awake. Staring at the wall.

His phone buzzed.

He ignored it.

It buzzed again.

Damian cursed under his breath and answered.

“What.”

A pause.

“I don’t care. Tell Victoria I’ll deal with her when my brother-in-law is out of surgery.”

Another pause.

“Then fire him.”

He hung up.

I stirred. “Board?”

“Always the board.” He kissed the top of my head. “Let them wait.”

Hour 11.

The doors opened.

Dr. Harris.

We both stood. Too fast.

“How is he?” I asked.

The doctor smiled. A real smile.

“Surgery was a success. The transplant took. His vitals are stable. He’s in recovery now. You can see him in an hour.”

I collapsed.

Damian caught me.

He was shaking. I felt it.

“Thank you,” he said to the doctor. Voice barely there. “Thank you.”

“Mr. Cole. You saved his life.”

“No,” Damian said. Looking at me. “She did.”

---

Room 710. Recovery.

Liam was pale. Sleeping. But his monitors were steady.

I sat next to him. Holding his hand.

Damian stood behind me. Hand on my shoulder.

For 2 hours we didn’t speak.

Then Liam’s eyes fluttered open.

“Avi?”

“I’m here, baby.”

“You did it.” He smiled weakly. “You saved me.”

“No, you did. You’re the bravest person I know.”

He looked past me. “Mr. Cole?”

Damian stepped forward.

“Yeah, kid?”

“Can you... can you stay? Till I fall asleep?”

Damian looked at me. I nodded.

He pulled up a chair. Sat on the other side of the bed.

“Yeah. I’m staying.”

Liam fell asleep 20 minutes later.

We stayed.

---

2AM.

Back at the penthouse.

Both of us were exhausted. But wired.

Adrenaline and relief.

Damian poured two glasses of whiskey.

We didn’t drink. Just held them.

“He’s going to be okay,” I said. For the 10th time.

“He is.” Damian set his glass down. Came to me on the couch.

Sat. Pulled me into his side.

We sat like that. In silence.

“I need to tell you something,” he said finally.

“What?”

“Today, in that waiting room. When you said I couldn’t buy this... you were right.”

He turned to me. “I’ve spent 5 years trying to buy my revenge. Trying to buy control. Trying to buy the pain away.

And then you walked in. With nothing. And you had more than me.”

“Damian—”

“No, let me finish.” He cupped my face. “I told myself this was business. That you were just a Sinclair. That 12 months and we’d be done.

But I don’t want 12 months anymore, Ava.”

My heart stopped.

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying I’m falling for you.” The words came out rough. Like they hurt. “And I don’t know how to stop it.

I don’t know how to be the man you need. But I want to try.”

Tears filled my eyes.

“You’re already the man I need,” I whispered. “You just don’t see it.”

He kissed me then.

Not desperate. Not hungry.

Soft. Real.

Like a promise.

“I don’t deserve you,” he murmured against my lips.

“Then earn me,” I whispered back.

He did.

We didn’t make it to the bedroom.

Not that night.

On the couch. Under blankets.

Kissing. Touching. Talking.

For the first time, no contract between us.

Just Damian and Ava.

At 4AM he carried me to bed.

Held me while I slept.

And for the first time since I was 20 years old,

I felt safe.

---

7AM.

My phone buzzed.

Text from the hospital.

*Liam: Awake. Eating jello. Asked when ice cream.*

I laughed. Cried.

Showed Damian.

He smiled. A real one.

“Looks like we have a promise to keep.”

He leaned down. Kissed me.

“Good morning, Mrs. Cole.”

“Good morning, Mr. Cole.”

48 hours.

The worst and best of my life.

And it was just the beginning.