Chapter 6

Dashiell's POV

The machines were still screaming when I looked back at Theo's bed. Ethan was working quickly, checking monitors, adjusting equipment.

My son lay there, so small and still, while chaos erupted around him.

But Sabrina was fainting in my arms, her weight suddenly heavy against me.

"Dashiell," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "I can't... I need..."

I was torn. Pulled in two directions, unable to move.

Sabrina's legs buckled. I caught her, holding her upright.

"I'll be back," I said, though I wasn't sure who I was talking to.

I guided Sabrina out into the hallway, her body trembling against mine. A nurse rushed over with a wheelchair, and we got her settled. Her face was deathly pale, her breathing shallow.

"I'm sorry," she murmured as I wheeled her back toward her room. "I shouldn't have left my bed. I just wanted to see you."

"Don't apologize. You're sick. You need rest."

We reached her room and I helped her back into bed. She looked so fragile against the white sheets, her skin almost translucent.

This was why I was doing all of this. For her. To give her peace in her final months.

"Thank you," she whispered, her hand finding mine. "For everything. For being here. For caring."

I stayed until she fell asleep, her breathing finally evening out. Then I checked my watch. Nearly an hour had passed since I'd left Theo's room.

That strange tightness in my chest returned. The feeling that something was slipping away from me, spinning out of my control.

Especially Evangeline.

Her coldness earlier, the way she'd looked at me with such... nothing. No anger. No hurt. Just emptiness.

And the way she'd dismissed me, like I was nobody. Like I had no right to be there.

The more I thought about it, the more it bothered me. She was acting completely out of character. Evangeline was always so obedient, so accommodating. She never fought back, never stood her ground.

Unless...

Unless she really had moved on. Unless there was someone else.

That doctor. Ethan. The way he'd positioned himself between us. 

My jaw clenched. Was that it? Had Evangeline been unfaithful? Was she using this divorce as an excuse to be with him?

I wouldn't allow it. I wouldn't let her destroy our family like this.

I strode back down the corridor toward Theo's ward, my steps quick and purposeful. Whatever was happening with Theo, I needed to know. And I needed to talk to Evangeline, make her see reason.

But when I reached the room, it was empty.

Theo was still there, still unconscious, but Evangeline was gone.

"Where did she go?" I pulled out my phone and dialed her number.

It rang once, then went straight to voicemail.

I tried again. Same result.

She was ignoring me. Blocking my calls.

Fury surged through me. 

"Mr. Hart."

I turned to find Ethan standing in the doorway, his expression neutral but his eyes hard.

"What happened to my son?" I demanded. "Is he stable?"

"Theo is stable now. It was a minor seizure, which can be common after this type of trauma." Ethan crossed his arms. "But I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

"He's my son. I have every right to be here."

"Actually, you don't." Ethan's voice remained calm, clinical. "Only Theo's legal guardian has visitation rights. That's Evangeline. She left explicit instructions that no one else is to be admitted to this room without her present."

"That's ridiculous. I'm his father."

"Are you?" Ethan's eyebrow raised slightly. "Funny. In all the years I've never once heard Evangeline mention you being involved in Theo's care. Never heard about you attending his therapy sessions. Never heard about you at his doctor's appointments."

My face heated. "My work schedule is busy."

"A father makes time." Ethan stepped closer. "A father shows up."

"You don't know anything about my family!"

"I know enough." His eyes were cold. "Evangeline won't longer play along with whatever game you're running."

"There's no game." My hands clenched into fists. "And what about you? How long have you been sleeping with my wife?"

"Ex-wife," Ethan corrected smoothly. "And whatever I am to Evangeline is none of your concern. But since you’re so desperate to know—yes, I like her."

"I want to transfer my son to a VIP ward. Get him better care."

"If you want to be involved in your son's medical care, I suggest you have a conversation with his mother." Ethan's smile was thin. "Though from what I've seen, she's done talking to you."

The rage in my chest built, hot and suffocating. This was Evangeline's fault. All of it. Her stubbornness, her defiance, her refusal to just obey!

My phone rang, interrupting my thoughts.

I glanced at the screen and felt my blood run cold.

Grandfather.

I answered, already trying to compose myself. "Grandfather. How are you?"

"Dashiell." His voice was stern, authoritative in the way that always made me feel like a child again. "I expect you, Evangeline, and Theo at the house for dinner tomorrow evening. Seven o'clock sharp."

My stomach dropped. "Tomorrow?"

"Is there a problem?"

"No, of course not. It's just that—"

"Good. I've been hearing some disturbing rumors, Dashiell. Something about you planning to marry some woman named Sabrina." His tone turned ice cold. "I hope that these are just rumors."

I froze. How had he heard? "Grandfather, I can explain—"

"There's nothing to explain. You are married to Evangeline. The only woman I have ever approved of for this family." He paused, letting his words sink in. "Or have you forgotten why that marriage was so important?"

I hadn't forgotten. Grandfather had raised me after my father took a position in Europe. Had molded me, shaped me, held impossibly high standards that I constantly struggled to meet.

The only thing I'd ever done that satisfied him was marrying Evangeline.

"The rumors are false," I lied smoothly. "You know how people talk."

"Then I'll see all three of you tomorrow. Don't disappoint me, Dashiell."

He hung up before I could respond.

I stared at my phone, my mind racing. Tomorrow. Dinner. With Evangeline and Theo.

Except Evangeline wouldn't answer my calls. And Theo was in a coma.

I tried calling her again. Straight to voicemail.

Texted her. No response.

I knew what she wanted. She wanted me to grovel. To apologize. To admit that I cared about her more than Sabrina.

But I wasn't going to do that. My relationship with Sabrina was none of her business. It was purely friendship, purely compassion for a dying woman. Evangeline was jealous and petty for not understanding that.

I didn't owe her an explanation. And I certainly didn't owe her an apology.

But I did need her to cooperate. For Grandfather's sake.

I typed out a message, keeping my tone neutral:

[We're having dinner at Grandfather's house tomorrow evening. 7 PM. Don't be late.]

I hesitated, then added:

[This is important. Don't make this difficult.]

I hit send and pocketed my phone.

She'd come around. She always did.

Evangeline might be angry now, might be playing these games, but she'd see reason eventually. She'd remember her place. Remember that she needed me.

And if she didn't?

Well. I'd figure that out when the time came.

For now, I just needed her to show up tomorrow and play the dutiful wife.