Chapter 88

Drew’s POV

As I left her room it felt like the walls of the hospital pressed in on me. The door slammed behind me, but it didn’t silence anything.

My chest was still heaving, my fists clenched so tight I could feel my nails biting into my palms. The hallway stretched ahead, sterile white, but all I could see was her face, the way her lips trembled, the way her silence betrayed her.

Max knew about my child.

The thought roared through my head like fire and intensified the pain I felt inside.

He had known about the baby before I did.

He had been circling her, taunting me, threatening Lila and all along, he held the one truth that should have been mine. I remembered when he came to my office and was threatening to spill Lila's secret but Lila said he was lying and I believed her. Max must have thought I was very stupid to have believed her all this while.

I shoved a hand through my hair, my steps uneven as I walked down the corridor. Nurses glanced my way, their gazes lingering, but I ignored them. I couldn’t breathe in that room, couldn’t sit there while she looked at me with wide, wet eyes, asking me to believe her.

How could I believe her when she didn’t trust me with the one thing that mattered most?

I walked faster, my shoes striking against the tile in sharp, echoing beats that only seemed to fuel the storm in my chest. Every breath scraped like glass down my throat.

I wanted to get away from the hospital so badly because if I looked into those eyes again, and watched the tears, the silence and the way her lips parted like she wanted to tell me more but didn’t, I could lose it and do something drastic. That silence was louder than any confession she could have made.

Lila was pregnant with my child and she hadn’t told me. I quickly did a little math in my head, we had that passionate night four months ago when she just joined my company. That means she kept this secret for that long and never bothered to tell me all this while.

The thought carved through me again, relentless, unforgiving. It felt like betrayal and heartbreak and fury all rolled into one suffocating weight pressing against my ribs.

By the time I shoved through the hospital’s front doors, the night air hit me like a slap, cold and damp, heavy with the smell of rain clinging to the asphalt. For a second, I just stood there, gulping it down like a drowning man desperate for air. But it didn’t help. Nothing could ease the storm inside me.

I spotted my car waiting at the parking lot. My driver stepped out immediately, rushing to open the back door, his eyes flicking to me in silent question.

“You can leave.” My voice came out low and dangerous.

He froze. “Sir?”

“Leave. Now.” I didn’t look at him as I snatched the keys from his hand. “Go home. I will drive myself.”

He hesitated only a moment before bowing his head and retreating. He knew better than to argue with me when I was like this.

I slid into the driver’s seat, the leather groaning beneath me and the silence deafening. For a long moment, I just gripped the wheel, my head hanging low, my breath ragged.

Then I turned the ignition, the engine growling to life, and pulled away from the hospital.

The city stretched out ahead of me in streaks of neon and shadow. The streets glistened with leftover rain, headlights reflecting like broken glass on black water. I didn’t know where I was going and I didn’t care either.

All I wanted was distance. From the hospital, from her and from the truth.

I drove fast, weaving through the late night traffic, the world blurring at the edges. My chest ached and the fury inside me was clashing with something softer, something more dangerous.

Pain.

It had been years since I let myself feel it this raw. Since I let grief sink claws into me and drag me under. But now it was here, ripping me open all over again.

My hand shot to the glove compartment without thinking. I yanked it open, my fingers closing around the silver flask that never left my car. My fallback and at the same time my poison.

I unscrewed the cap with one sharp twist and lifted it to my lips. The burn hit instantly, scorching down my throat, spreading like fire through my veins. For a moment, I welcomed it. At least this pain was familiar. At least this burn was mine to control.

I took another long pull. Then another.

My grip tightened on the wheel, the metal flask clattering against my thigh as I drove. Streetlights flashed overhead, one after another, too fast, too bright.

Then my vision blurred, not from the alcohol, not yet, but from something I hadn’t expected.

Tears.

Hot, unwanted tears spilling from my eyes, cutting down my cheeks before I could stop them.

I cursed under my breath, swiping at them with the back of my hand, furious at myself for breaking. But they kept coming, harder now and faster, until the road ahead shimmered.

“Damn you, Lila,” I muttered hoarsely, my voice cracking. “How could you do this to me?”

The steering wheel trembled beneath my grip. Or maybe it was my hands.

Images flickered in my mind like ghosts. The way she looked at me when we danced. The way her laugh softened something sharp inside me. The night we spent together, the one I swore to bury but could never forget. Her warmth, her trust and her eyes when she whispered my name.

Did she ever really trust me? Or was I just a placeholder in her world, someone to build dreams with while she carried secrets close to her chest?

The questions clawed at me, each one sharper than the last. I tipped the flask again, draining it greedily, desperate for the burn to drown them out.

The city lights blurred into streaks. Horns blared faintly in the distance. My car surged forward, the speedometer climbing higher.

I couldn’t stop shaking. My chest was tight, my throat raw and my vision was blurry. Fury and despair tangled inside me until I couldn’t tell which was which.

“She kept my child from me,” I whispered, the words trembling out of me like a confession, like a curse. “She kept my child…”

While all these thoughts went through my head I didn’t notice the curve in the road until it was too late.

My tires screeched as I yanked the wheel, the car swerving hard. The world tilted, metal groaning as the vehicle swerved across the slick pavement.

And then came a very strong impact.

The next thing I heard was a deafening crack as the car slammed into the concrete wall. My body jolted forward, the seatbelt biting into my chest. The flask flew from my hand, clattering against the dashboard before hitting the floor.

Silence followed.

Broken only by the hiss of the engine, the sharp rattle of my breath, and the steady drip of liquid somewhere under the hood.

I sat there, dazed, my hands trembling on the wheel, the taste of alcohol still burning in my mouth. My vision blurred, the world was doubling, tilting and spinning all at the same time.

A sharp pain flared across my ribs, but I barely felt it. The pain in my heart was more than whatever pain or injury I could possibly sustain from this injury.

The only thing I could think, all I could hear, was the echo of my own words.

My head dropped forward, as the weight of everything fell heavily on me.

And then everything went black.