Chapter Forty-Six: Vigil

The intensive care unit was a cathedral of beeping machines and whispered prayers.

Victoria lay in the center bed, connected to more tubes and wires than seemed humanly possible. Her face was pale as winter snow, but her chest rose and fell with steady determination. The bullet had missed her heart by inches—a miracle wrapped in titanium will and surgical precision.

I sat in the uncomfortable plastic chair beside her bed, my hand wrapped around hers, feeling for the faint pulse that proved she was still fighting.

"She made it through surgery," Dr. Martinez had said three hours ago, his scrubs still stained with her blood. "But the next twenty-four hours are critical. She lost a lot of blood, and at her age..."

He hadn't finished the sentence. He didn't need to.

Victoria Van Alston—the woman who'd built empires with her bare hands—was fighting for her life because she'd tried to protect me and my unborn child.

"Mrs. Blackwood," a nurse said softly from the doorway. "Visiting hours ended an hour ago. You really should get some rest."

I didn't look away from Victoria's face. "I'm not leaving."

"The doctor's orders were very specific about you needing bed rest after tonight's trauma—"

"The doctor's orders can kiss my ass," I said flatly. "I'm not leaving her."

The nurse retreated, probably to report my stubbornness to someone with more authority. I didn't care. Let them try to drag me out of here.

Victoria's fingers twitched in mine, and I leaned forward.

"Victoria? Can you hear me?"

Her eyelids fluttered but didn't open. The machines around us continued their electronic symphony, monitoring every breath, every heartbeat, every sign of life.

"I need you to know something," I whispered, my voice barely audible over the medical equipment. "I'm not running anymore. I'm not hiding. Whatever comes next, whatever enemies are waiting for me, I'm going to face them."

Her hand squeezed mine—so faintly I might have imagined it.

"And when you wake up," I continued, "I want you to teach me everything. How to run the Van Alston empire. How to be the kind of woman who builds dynasties instead of just surviving them."

The door opened behind me, and I sensed rather than saw Dominic enter. He moved quietly, settling into the chair on Victoria's other side without speaking.

We sat in silence for several minutes, the weight of the night's revelations hanging between us like smoke.

"How are you holding up?" he asked finally.

"I've been better," I admitted. "Found out my grandmother-in-law wants me dead, my ex-husband is obsessed with controlling me, and his entire family is willing to murder their own grandchild to protect their fortune. So, you know, Tuesday."

His laugh was dark and humorless. "When you put it like that, it sounds almost manageable."

"Almost." I studied his profile in the dim lighting. "How are you handling the thing about your mother?"

His jaw tightened. "By not thinking about it until I absolutely have to."

"Dominic—"

"She tried to have you poisoned," he said, his voice carefully controlled. "My own mother looked at my pregnant wife and decided she needed to die. I don't know how to process that."

The pain in his voice was almost unbearable. This wasn't just betrayal—it was the destruction of everything he'd believed about family, about love, about the woman who'd raised him.

"We'll figure it out," I said. "Together."

"Will we?" He turned to look at me, and I saw something vulnerable in his expression. "Because I'm starting to think that being married to me might be the most dangerous thing you've ever done."

"It's definitely in the top five," I agreed. "But the top four all happened before I met you, so I think you're off the hook."

This time his smile was genuine, if brief. "What are the other four?"

"Marrying Blake is number one. Getting pushed out that window is number two. The poison attempt is number three. And number four..." I paused, considering. "Probably the time in college when I tried to make ramen in a coffee pot and nearly burned down my dorm."

"That made the list?"

"You didn't see the fire department response. Three trucks and a hazmat team."

He shook his head, but I could see some of the tension leaving his shoulders. "You're insane."

"Says the man who literally exploded through a hospital door tonight like some kind of avenging angel."

"That door was reinforced steel."

"I noticed."

We fell quiet again, but it was a different kind of silence now. Comfortable. Connected. The kind that came from two people who'd been through hell together and were still standing.

"Mrs. Blackwood," Dr. White appeared in the doorway, her expression stern. "I really must insist—"

"She's not leaving," Dominic said, his voice carrying absolute authority. "Move another bed in here if you have to, but she stays."

Dr. White opened her mouth to argue, then seemed to think better of it. "I'll see what I can arrange."

After she left, I squeezed Victoria's hand again. "Did you hear that? You've got us both being stubborn on your behalf. The least you can do is wake up so we can argue about it properly."

Victoria's machines continued their steady rhythm, but I swore I saw the ghost of a smile cross her lips.

"She's going to be okay," Dominic said quietly.

"How do you know?"

"Because she's too stubborn to die. It's a family trait, apparently."

I looked at him, then at Victoria, then back at him. "I'm about to inherit a multi-billion-dollar empire from a woman I've known for less than twelve hours."

"Terrifying, isn't it?"

"Absolutely." I paused. "Also kind of amazing."

"Also that."

Another comfortable silence settled between us, broken only by the steady beep of Victoria's heart monitor. Outside the ICU windows, dawn was beginning to creep across the sky, painting everything in shades of hope and possibility.

"Dominic?"

"Yeah?"

"When this is all over, when we've dealt with your mother and the Reynolds family and whoever else wants me dead, I want to take a vacation."

"Where?"

"Somewhere with no cell service, no business meetings, and no one trying to poison me."

"That's a pretty specific list of requirements."

"I'm a woman with standards."

He reached across Victoria's bed and took my free hand in his. "When this is over, we'll go anywhere you want."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

Victoria's hand moved in mine again, stronger this time. Deliberate.

I leaned closer. "Victoria?"

Her eyes opened slowly, focusing on my face with obvious effort.

"My granddaughter," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "My fierce, beautiful granddaughter."

Tears I didn't know I'd been holding back spilled down my cheeks. "You scared us."

"Takes more than a bullet to kill a Van Alston," she said, her voice getting slightly stronger. "We're made of tougher stuff."

"Apparently I am too," I said. "Must be genetic."

She smiled—a real smile this time. "Must be."

The machines around us continued their hopeful song, and for the first time in hours, I allowed myself to believe that everything might actually be okay.

We still had wars to fight, enemies to face, empires to claim.

But we'd face them together.

All of us.