4

Chapter 4

The spilled coffee had been cleaned, the tray gone, the broken phone swept away. The only sound left was the slow, steady rhythm of the oxygen machine beside his bed.

Damien was still asleep, his face calm, though a small vein still pulsed at the side of his neck. The injection had done its job. For the first time since Aria met him, he looked almost peaceful.

Aria stood by the foot of his bed, holding her notepad against her chest. She had been there for nearly two hours, monitoring his condition, making notes on his seizure pattern, and watching how long he stayed under sedation.

She sighed softly. The man was exhausting. Even asleep, he carried tension in his jaw, like he was ready to fight someone in his dreams.

Aria looked down at her wristwatch 12:07. She decided to step out and get some air.

The door clicked softly behind her as she stepped into the hall. The sharp scent of disinfectant filled her nose.

Nurses walked past carrying files and medications, whispering about what had happened earlier in the morning. She ignored the murmurs and began walking toward the resting lounge.

She had only taken a few steps when she saw Richard Grayson standing by the window at the end of the hall.

His tall frame and neatly combed grey hair made him look every inch the powerful businessman he was. But his face lined with exhaustion and quiet worry gave away something else.

When he turned and saw her, he gave a small nod.

“Doctor Aria,” he called in his deep, calm voice.

She straightened a little. “Mr. Grayson.”

“I’d like a word with you,” he said, motioning toward the small waiting area beside the window.

Aria followed him silently. They sat facing each other she on the small couch, he in the chair opposite her. The glass behind him reflected the afternoon sun, throwing a soft glow on his sharp features.

For a moment, neither spoke. Richard rubbed his hands together slowly, then looked up at her.

“I’ve watched how you handle my son,” he said finally. “Most people would have given up. Or walked out. But you didn’t.”

Aria nodded politely. “He’s my patient, Mr. Grayson. I can’t walk away from him.”

Richard leaned back. “You’re not afraid of him.”

“I don’t see a reason to be,” she said, though deep down she knew that wasn’t entirely true.

Damien scared most people his anger, his temper, the sudden outbursts. But Aria had learned not to flinch. Patients like him needed firmness, not fear.

Richard gave a faint smile, almost like he appreciated her honesty. Then his expression changed his tone more serious now.

“My son has been sick for a long time,” he began slowly. “Since he was eighteen. He’s twenty-eight now, and still... he’s fighting the same battles.”

Aria’s face softened. “I read through his medical file, but I’d like to hear it from you.”

Richard nodded. “He was first diagnosed after his first seizure at eighteen. The doctors called it Intermittent Explosive Disorder. Seizures followed after that, mostly when he’s under extreme stress.”

He paused, staring down at his hands. “He lost his mother when he was fifteen. It broke him in ways I didn’t understand back then. She was his comfort, his balance.”

Aria listened quietly. She could tell he wasn’t used to talking like this. His voice cracked slightly on the word “mother.”

“I tried to raise him the best I could,” Richard continued, “but I was always busy. Meetings, boardrooms, investors. I thought money would fill the gap. It didn’t. My boy grew up with everything except peace.”

Aria said softly, “That must have been hard on both of you.”

He nodded. “Yes. He doesn’t trust easily. When he does, he gets attached... too much. Obsession, dependency, call it whatever you want. It’s destroyed every relationship he’s ever had.”

Aria just nodded again, unsure what to say. She wasn’t here to judge. She’d seen trauma in many forms loss always left a scar, especially when it came early.

Richard sighed deeply. “I’ve brought in every specialist in Canada, even from abroad. Psychiatrists, neurologists, behavior therapists. Nothing worked. Every one of them said the same thing he’s too far gone, or he doesn’t want help.”

“That’s depressing to hear,” Aria said, her tone low but genuine.

He looked at her then, his eyes tired but clear. “But you... you handled him differently. I saw how he yelled at you, how he tried to provoke you, and you didn’t even raise your voice. You stayed calm. That’s not easy.”

Aria smiled faintly. “It’s part of the job. You learn to stay calm around chaos.”

Richard gave a short laugh. “Chaos. That’s exactly what he is.”

The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable just quiet. Aria could sense that something else was coming, something heavier.

Richard leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees.

“Doctor Aria,” he said after a pause, “you’re the only one I’ve seen who can bring any sort of control to my son. The only one I’m confident might actually make him a better person.”

Aria blinked, unsure how to respond. “I appreciate that, Mr. Grayson. I’m doing everything I can.”

Richard’s eyes stayed on hers for a few seconds. Then his voice dropped lower, steadier.

“I know this may sound strange,” he said. “But I have a proposition.”

Aria tilted her head slightly. “A proposition?”

He nodded once. “Yes.” He hesitated for a moment, then spoke clearly.

“Marry my son, Doctor Aria.”

The words landed like a stone between them.

Aria froze, her breath catching in her throat. For a second, she thought she misheard him.

Richard’s face didn’t change he wasn’t joking. His tone remained serious, calm, and completely certain.

She blinked again, speechless. “I... I’m sorry, what?”

“I said marry my son,” Richard repeated, leaning back slowly. “Not out of love or romance. I just need someone who can keep him stable. Someone who won’t run when he gets worse. Someone who can reach him, even when he doesn’t want to be reached.”