CHAPTER TEN

The private car cut through the night like a blade.

Evelyn sat rigid in the back seat, Damian’s hand wrapped tightly around hers. He hadn’t let go since they left the apartment. His thumb moved in slow, steady circles across her knuckles, an unconscious rhythm that was the only thing keeping her from shattering.

“He’s going to be okay,” Damian said quietly. It was the third time he had said it.

“You don’t know that.”

“I know the team I put in place. Best cardiac surgeons in the state. Full private wing. Whatever he needs, he gets.” His voice was calm, but the tension in his jaw betrayed him. “I don’t make promises I can’t keep, Evelyn.”

She turned her face toward the window so he wouldn’t see the tears burning in her eyes. The city lights streaked past in long gold lines. Somewhere out there people were still commenting on grainy photos of her. Somewhere Victoria was waiting with whatever she had left. None of it mattered right now.

The hospital entrance was already cleared. Security met them at the curb. A nurse in dark scrubs led them straight to a private consultation room on the surgical floor. The attending physician was waiting, mid-fifties, calm eyes, the kind of quiet confidence that only came from decades of high-stakes work.

“Miss Hart,” he said, offering his hand. “We’ve stabilized your father for the moment, but the blockage is more severe than the earlier scans showed. We need to operate tonight. I need your signature on the final consents.”

Evelyn’s hands shook as she took the tablet. The words blurred. Damian’s fingers brushed the small of her back, steadying her without a word. She signed.

“How long?” she asked.

“Four to six hours, depending on what we find. We’ll update you the moment we’re out.”

They were led to a private waiting suite; soft lighting, leather couches, a wall of glass that looked out over the dark city. The door closed. The silence that followed was heavier than anything Evelyn had ever felt.

She sat on the edge of the couch and stared at her hands. Damian remained standing for a long moment, then lowered himself beside her. Not touching. Just close.

“Talk to me,” he said.

“I don’t know what to say.”

“Then don’t say anything. Just don’t disappear inside your head.”

She let out a broken breath. “I’ve been preparing for this day for two years. Every extra shift. Every skipped meal. Every time I let Miranda talk to me like I was nothing. And now that it’s actually happening I feel like I can’t breathe.”

Damian was quiet for a few seconds. Then he spoke, voice low and rough.

“When my grandfather had his first heart scare three years ago, I was in Tokyo closing a deal. By the time I landed he was already in recovery. I sat in a waiting room that looked exactly like this one and realized I had built an entire life around never being the person who sits and waits. I hated it. I still hate it.”

Evelyn turned to look at him. The admission cost him something; she could see it in the tight line of his mouth.

“You don’t have to stay,” she whispered.

“Yes I do.”

He reached over and took her hand again, threading their fingers together like it was the most natural thing in the world. This time neither of them pretended it was only for comfort.

Hours stretched.

Oliver sent updates from the apartment and the office. The second security detail was in place at the hospital. The latest wave of online comments was being scrubbed as fast as it appeared. Victoria had left the building without further incident, but her silence felt more dangerous than her threats.

At 1:17 a.m. Evelyn’s head dropped against Damian’s shoulder. She didn’t mean to. Exhaustion simply won. He went completely still, then slowly adjusted so she could rest more comfortably. His arm settled around her, careful and warm. She felt him press a brief, almost invisible kiss to the top of her hair before he forced himself to stop.

She pretended she was still asleep.

At 3:46 a.m. the door opened.

The surgeon stepped in, mask pulled down, eyes tired but clear.

“He made it through,” he said. “The procedure was more complex than expected, but we cleared the blockage and repaired the damage. He’s stable. We’ll keep him in ICU for the next forty-eight hours, but the outlook is good.”

Evelyn’s legs nearly gave out. Damian’s arm tightened around her, holding her up.

“Can I see him?” she asked, voice cracking.

“Five minutes. He’s still sedated, but you can sit with him.”

They followed the nurse down a quiet corridor. Richard Hart looked impossibly small in the hospital bed, tubes and monitors surrounding him, but his chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm. Evelyn sank into the chair beside him and took his hand. It was warm.

“I’m here, Dad,” she whispered. “You don’t have to fight alone anymore.”

Damian stood behind her chair like a silent guard. When she finally looked up, the expression on his face was unguarded, soft, fierce, and completely open for the first time since she had met him.

They stayed until the nurse gently told them it was time to let him rest.

Back in the waiting suite Evelyn turned to Damian, eyes shining with unshed tears of relief and something deeper.

“Thank you,” she said. “For all of it. The team. The trust. Being here.”

He shook his head once. “You don’t thank me for this.”

“I do.”

She stepped closer. The air between them charged again, heavier now with everything they had just survived together. Damian’s hand rose, cupped her cheek, thumb brushing away a tear she hadn’t realized had fallen.

“Evelyn…”

Her name on his lips sounded like a warning and a prayer at the same time.

He leaned in. Slow. Giving her every chance to stop him. She didn’t. Their mouths met in a kiss that was nothing like the desperate heat of the hotel room. This one was careful. Raw. Full of every word they still weren’t allowed to say.

It lasted only seconds before he pulled back, forehead against hers, breathing hard.

“We can’t,” he whispered. “Not yet. Not while the world is still trying to tear you apart.”

“I know.”

But neither of them moved away.

His phone buzzed in his pocket. He ignored it. It buzzed again. Then a third time in rapid succession.

Oliver’s name flashed on the screen when he finally pulled it out. The message was short and brutal.

Victoria released the last photo. Full face. Full name. It’s already on three major sites. University board is calling an emergency meeting at 8 a.m. They’re going to try to strip her scholarship publicly.

Damian’s hand tightened on the phone until his knuckles went white.

Evelyn saw the look on his face and felt the floor drop out from under her again.

“What is it?” she asked.

He met her eyes, and for the first time since the night they met, he looked like a man who wasn’t sure he could protect her from what was coming.

“Victoria just went nuclear,” he said quietly. “And she timed it for the exact moment we couldn’t fight back.”