Se connecter
The call came at 2:17 a.m.
I remember the time because I stared at my phone for a full five seconds before answering it, my heart already pounding like it already knew something I didn’t want to hear.
Why did it feel like the universe was about to come for me? I wondered as I looked around. The room was dark except for the thin orange glow of the streetlight outside the window of the bedroom Keiran and I shared. Daniel was asleep in the next room.
Then my phone vibrated again while ringing and I finally picked it up.
“Mrs Blackthorne?” It was a man’s voice. Controlled. Professional. Too calm for this hour that he was calling.
“This is St. Augustine Private Medical Center. Your father, Mr. Edward Frostbane, has been admitted. He suffered a massive heart attack.”
The words dropped into the room and stayed there.
Heart attack. Of course. The world had to find another way to test me.
I sat up slowly, the blanket sliding off my paà. “You have the wrong number,” I said even though I knew he didn’t.
“There is no mistake,” the man replied. “Your name is listed as next of kin.”
I almost laughed. Edward Frostbane hadn’t called me his daughter in ten years. He had called me worse things. Disgrace. Mistake. Embarrassment. Funny how blood ties only mattered when bodies failed.
But next of kin? Nah.
“How bad is it?” I asked finally while staring at the wall in front of me.
There was a pause. Just a second too long before he replied, “You should come immediately.”
Then the line went dead.
I sat there with the phone pressed to my ear long after the call ended. My chest felt tight, like something heavy had settled on it. Why did my hands feel numb? Why did it still hurt to hear his name?
Edward Frostbane. The man whose name still opened doors across the city. He was the same man who had shut every door in my face when I needed him most.
And yet, I was being called because he had a heart attack. Life really knew how to mock a person.
I swung my legs off the bed and stood. The floor was cold. I welcomed it. I needed something solid to be able to think well.
Ten minutes later, I was pulling on a coat with shaking hands. I checked on Daniel. His small fist was curled around the edge of his blanket. I brushed my fingers through his hair.
“I’ll be back,” I whispered. What if he woke up and I wasn’t there? Would he panic? Or would he wait calmly, knowing his mummy would come back for him soon.
I didn't bother to call Kieran. I knew wherever he was right now, he wasn't going to pick my call.
__
The private hospital wing loomed like a fortress, all glass and steel and money. Our kind of world—shiny, heartless, and cold.
Frostbane money had probably paid for half of it. My family was that fucking rich.
Nurses moved quickly but silently on floors that shone like mirrors. Even death had manners here.
“Seraphina Blackthorne,” I said at the desk.
The nurse’s eyes flickered with recognition and I couldn't help thinking how the name still carried weight, even when it no longer carried love.
Then the nurse nodded and pointed down the hall. “Cardiac wing. The family is already there.”
Family? That word still hurt to hear.
I saw them before they saw me.
Margaret Frostbane stood near the wall, dressed perfectly as always, even at past three in the morning. Her hair was smooth, her mouth tight as if she had been thinking about me. Of course she had. I haunted her reputation more than any ghost could.
Ethan paced in front of her, his suit jacket off, sleeves rolled up like he was preparing for a fight.
No one moved toward me when they saw me.
Margaret looked at me like I was a stain on white silk as she demanded, “Why are you here?”
I stopped a few feet away, close enough to see the flawless make-up, far enough to feel the miles between us.
Finally, I answered, “I got a call.”
Ethan let out a sharp laugh. “Of course you did. Always showing up when something is already ruined.”
I ignored him and looked at my mother. “How is he?”
Her lips pressed together even more. “Critical.”
The word hit harder than I expected. I nodded once and asked as calmly as I could. “Can I see him?”
“No,” Ethan said immediately. “You’ve done enough that we need a whole lifetime to recover from it.”
Margaret didn’t contradict him on that. She never did when it came to choosing sides. I was always the wrong one.
I felt that old familiar burn behind my eyes. The same one I’d felt the night everything fell apart.
The night Celeste’s engagement ended, with my life split cleanly in two.
Ten years ago, I was drunk and broken and reckless.
Celeste, my sister, was being engaged to Kieran Blackthorne, the city’s golden heir.
My sister glowed, and I faded, like the natural order of things.
I felt lost and invisible, no matter how many people surrounded me. So I drank… and drank. And drank until everything at the after party was blurry.
I stumbled down a hallway, looking for air, looking for escape, when steady hands caught me and I had ended up in a dark hotel room with a man who wasn’t mine to touch.
One night. One mistake. One unforgivable sin…
Edward Frostbane had looked at me the next morning like he wished I’d never been born.
“You are no daughter of mine,” he had said. “Get out!”
Celeste left the country three days later. Kieran married me a month after that, even though he never looked at me the same after that night.
__
I straightened my shoulders. “I’m not here to fight. I just want to see him.”
Please, just this once, don’t make me beg.
Ethan stepped closer, eyes red with anger and accusations. “You don’t get to want anything anymore, Seraphina! I can't believe that even after ten years, you are still just as selfish and spoiled! Can't you even let us take care of dad in peace? Why do you have to bring your cursed face here again, when you haven't bothered about him in ages?”
I felt the sting of tears behind my eyes.
“Mrs. Frostbane? Mr. Frostbane.”
The doctor looked between us and cleared his throat. Margaret turned instantly. “Doctor.”
“We’ve done everything we can,” he said. “I’m sorry, but the damage is too much.”
The words seemed to echo down the corridor. My ears were ringing and for a moment, I thought I would throw up right there.
Ethan spun on me. “This is your fault.”
I felt his words like a slap. My eyes widened as I looked up at him. “What?”
“You! You destroyed this family. Celeste left the country because of you. Father never recovered from the disgrace. And now this.” His voice broke as he added, “You killed him.”
Margaret said nothing. Her silence showed she agreed with everything my brother was saying, as always.
“I didn’t make him have a heart attack.”
“You made him live with shame! And it's that shame which brought him to this point.”
Ethan shot back.
The doctor shifted uncomfortably. “He’s asking for family. If anyone would like to say goodbye.. “
I stepped forward. “I would.”
Margaret’s hand shot out, gripping my arm hard enough to hurt. “Don’t you dare! I don't want his last moments with his family to be tainted by your presence.”
I met her eyes and for the first time in years, I didn’t look away. “He’s my father. Regardless of what you all think of me, he's still my father.”
"You gave up that right when you spread your legs for your sister's man."
The corridor went silent. I pulled my arm free.
"Five minutes. That's all I'm asking.”
Her fingers tightened, then dropped. “One minute, and I'll be timing it. That’s all you deserve.”
The room was dim when I stepped in, filled with the beeping of machines. Edward Frostbane looked more fragile than I have ever seen him.
His skin was gray, lifeless.
Oh God.
I stood at the foot of the bed, frozen.
“Dad…?”
His eyes fluttered and slowly, they opened. For a second, confusion clouded them.
Then recognition, and his gaze hardened the moment he saw me.
“Why are you here?”
“They called me. I heard you were sick.”
He turned his head away slightly. “You should have stayed where you were. No one misses you here.”
I took a shaky breath and moved closer. “I know I hurt you, I ruined everything. But I never stopped being your daughter, dad.”
Please, dad. Just one word. One sign you ever cared.
His jaw tightened and his hand twitched weakly on the sheets. “You shamed us. You took what didn’t belong to you.”
Tears burned behind my eyes at his words. “Yes, I was lost,” I said. “I…I was drunk. I didn't know what I was doing.”
He turned back to me.
“And does that justify whatever you did to ruin Celeste?”
“Dad, I swear! I am begging for your apology, I accept responsibility for everything–”
“It's too late.”
The monitor beeped faster and his breathing became labored.
“Please, dad. I wanted to fix things,” I said quickly. “I came to say I’m sorry. I came to—”
Before I could finish, a flatline sound cut through the room.
Nurses rushed in, pushing me aside. Hands moved, voices rising louder and louder.
I stood there, frozen, watching as they tried to pull him back from the brink of death.
They couldn't.
Margaret’s scream echoed down the hall. Ethan got close and shoved me hard, sending me stumbling backward.
“You did this. You and your pathetic face! You stressed him until his heart gave out."
"I didn't—"
"You always ruin everything.. you ruin everything you touch. GET OUT! Get away from him.”
I didn’t resist as they pushed me out of the room. All I could feel was emptiness.
Edward Frostbane died without forgiving me.
I leaned against the wall, trying to tame my breathing, when I heard footsteps approaching me. Calm, controlled steps, like the person owned whichever room he walked into.
Kieran Blackthorne walked down the hall, wearing a tailored coat, untouchable as ever.
He looked at me for only a second and then glanced away, as if he wasn't my husband…as if I was no one to him.
My stomach tightened as I watched him walk straight to Margaret and take her hands.
“I’m so sorry for your loss. Edward was a great man.”
Ethan nodded stiffly. “Thank you for coming.”
“Of course. You don't have to worry about anything, just take care of yourself. I’ll handle the business fallout. The board is restless, but I’ll make sure everything stays stable.”
Margaret squeezed his hand. “You always take care of us.”
He nodded. Then he turned and his eyes met mine for a second, before he looked away again.
He was here for them, not me. It was stupid to ever expect that of him.
A nurse approached Ethan and whispered something. As he listened to her, the tension between his eyebrows slowly melted and relief filled his features, like he had received some unexpected good news in the middle of this chaos.
“Celeste is on her way! She’s returning from Paris.”
The words knocked the air from my lungs. Celeste…
My sister. The woman whose life had been shattered because of me, who had become the ghost I could never live past.
She was coming back.
I had been rejected by every single person, who was feeling her pain even when she was thousands of miles away. Now that she's coming back, I barely have anything left in the name of protection.
Daniel… my heart gave a thud as I thought of his innocent face.
They could take everything else, but they would not take my son.
No matter what.
The three minutes were the longest three minutes I had experienced since the hospital corridor at 2:17 in the morning when someone at the hospital had used the word ‘critical’ and I had stood there with the phone pressed to my ear and learned that the world did not wait for you to be ready before it changed.I looked at both tests.They had the same result.I sat with them, my heart thudding in my chest.The bathroom was quiet. The city was outside doing what it always did. In the kitchen, Lucian was at the table with his notepad, waiting in the normal way he waited for things, without pressure and without filling the space with anything that would make the waiting easier for himself at the expense of the person he was waiting for.I thought about timing.Lucian and I had been together fully for several months. The timing was consistent with that. It was consistent with the evenings and the apartment and the gym and the moments with the wine and all the mornings and evenings that had
I noticed it one fateful day. Not the nausea specifically. It was not it at all. The nausea had already been there. And I had been attributing the nausea to the advanced training sessions, to the increased intensity of the combinations work, to the fact that I had been eating at irregular hours while working on the Ground proposal and the Phoenix Rising operational review simultaneously. I had been attributing it to stress and schedule and the accumulated physical demand of a life that was considerably more active than the one I had lived in the Blackthorne mansion.I had been attributing it to everything except the thing it was.It was the smell that told me.Lucian was cooking in my kitchen on Wednesday evening, the same pasta he had made the first time in his apartment, the garlic hitting the oil in the way it always did, that immediate, warm, nice smell that I associated with his kitchen and his books and the west window and the first time I had truly understood what it felt li
"I've been making a list," Lucian said after a moment.I looked at him in surprise. “Really?”"Yeah. Of locations," he said. "Five of them, in neighborhoods with the right demographics and the right access to public transport and reasonable commercial rental rates for a new entity." He paused. "I also have some thoughts about the branding. The name in particular. I think the name matters more than anything else you launch with.""You've been working on this," I said, wonder filling my chest. "You told me you wanted help figuring out how to start," he said. "On the sofa, the night after the park with Daniel. You said it as you were falling asleep."I looked at him.I thought about that night, the warm weight of his arm around me and the city going quiet outside and the half-asleep sentence I had offered into the dark of the apartment.He had received it and worked on it for weeks without mentioning that he had."Lucian," I said as my chest continued to expand with softness. "Yes," he
The weeks had a different texture now.It was not the texture of survival, which was what the first months after the divorce had been, each day a negotiation with the next one, each morning a reassertion of the decision to keep going. It was not even the texture of rebuilding, which was what the middle months had been, purposeful and directed but still carrying the particular tension of a person who is constructing something and is not yet certain the foundation will hold.This was different from both.This was ordinary.Not ordinary in the diminished sense, not ordinary as a concession or a settling. Ordinary in the way that good things are ordinary when they have been present long enough to become the normal. The training had moved into advanced levels, which meant Lucian was no longer correcting my fundamentals but was working with me on combinations and strategy and the applied intelligence of a fighter who has the physical vocabulary and is learning to use it compositionally. I
I sat across from Dad and looked at the menu, which was large and laminated and offered things in the careful, descriptive language of menus that did not list prices.I ordered the fruit cup and a hot chocolate.Dad ordered something from the waiter without looking at the menu and then looked at his phone briefly and then put it face down on the table, which was his version of full attention."How is the gym?" he asked me. Not ‘how are you?’ Rather, it was, ‘how is the gym?I swallowed hard. "Good," I said. "Lucian is teaching me the jab combination. I'm working on the footwork.""The footwork," Dad repeated."The way you move your feet when you're in position," I said. "It matters more than the punch because if your feet are wrong, the punch doesn't land correctly."Dad looked at me with emotion blazing in his eyes. "I can get you a proper boxing coach," he said. "If you want to pursue it seriously. There are facilities—""I don't want a coach," I said.The words came out before I
Dad called at nine on Sunday morning.I was in the kitchen with Mum, who was making eggs the way she made them on weekends, unhurried, with the radio on low and her hair still loose from sleeping. Lucian was coming over at eleven and we had talked about the zoo the night before, the three of us at the kitchen table after dinner, and I had looked up the animals online before bed and had a list of the ones I wanted to see in order of priority, starting with the snow leopard.I had not seen a snow leopard before. And I couldn't just wait to see one. The phone was on the counter and when Dad's name appeared on the screen, Mum looked at it and then looked at me and handed it over without changing her expression, which was something she had gotten better at over the past months. It was clear that she was not performing how she felt about the call before I had answered it."Daniel," Dad said. He said my name the way he said most things in the morning, with the precise, forward-moving qualit







