All Chapters of The heart Beneath the Thorn : Chapter 71 - Chapter 80

The soft hum of medical machines formed a rhythm in the background—steady, hypnotic, and completely unlike the frantic chaos inside Max Carter’s chest.He sat motionless in the hospital chair, elbows resting on his knees, hands clasped as if in prayer. But his lips never moved. He just stared.At her.Emilia lay in the bed beside him, hooked to monitors, her breathing steady, her face pale but peaceful. A single line of dried blood traced down her hairline, but it was already fading into the shadow of her dark curls.She was awake.Alive.And she didn’t know him.That was the worst part. Not the bruises. Not the bandages. Not even the fact that she had nearly died.No—the part that shattered him was the way her eyes looked through him like he was just another stranger in a white hallway.But Max stayed.He didn’t leave her bedside, not even once since the crash. He brought her flowers—white peonies, her favorite, though she didn’t remember that. He tried to bring books, but couldn’t r

The elevator doors slid shut with a whisper, sealing Max inside the steel box of Carter Industries—once his kingdom, now his battlefield.He stared at the floor counter as it descended, jaw clenched, tie askew, mind churning like a loaded gun.Another breach.Another client gone.And this time, the leaked documents were so specific, so internal, that only a short list of people could’ve accessed them. Only people who had once sworn loyalty.Max stepped out on the executive floor, where Marco was already waiting.“Level three clearance,” Marco muttered, handing him a black folder. “It’s someone in your inner circle.”Max didn’t flinch. He opened the file and saw names—his CFO, his lead project director, even his interim VP.But one name was circled in red.Dahlia Crowe.His executive assistant.She’d worked for him since the day he turned twenty-one. Calm. Brilliant. Invisible in the best way.And now she was the only one whose keycard matched the breach timestamps.“Get her in my offi

The air at the terminal was crisp with the scent of roasted coffee and endings.Emilia stood still, her boarding pass clutched in her hand like it held more than just her flight—it held her escape.Max stood behind her. Close enough to feel, far enough to pretend it didn’t matter.He hadn’t come to stop her. Just to say goodbye.He held out an envelope.She blinked. “What’s this?”Max’s eyes—those winter-gray eyes that used to burn—were soft. “For your future.”She stared at it. Unread. Heavy. Something told her if she opened it now, she might not leave.Their eyes locked in a silence that screamed.No final kiss. No passionate embrace. Just a nod. A flicker. A goodbye threaded with things they never got the chance to say.And then—she was gone.Florence greeted her with ancient breath and golden light.The air tasted different here. Fresher. Earthier. Like stories swam in the shadows of cobbled alleys. Emilia stepped out of the taxi, the Duomo towering above her like a god of marble

It had been three months since Emilia arrived in Florence.Three months of sun-splashed courtyards and centuries-old whispers tucked into cobblestones. Three months of espresso in narrow alley cafés, of whispered Italian prayers echoing through candlelit basilicas. Three months of rebuilding herself—one stolen breath at a time.And yet, something still ached inside her.Not sharp. Not suffocating. Just… hollow.A quiet space she hadn’t yet learned how to fill.Emilia stood in the middle of the courtyard at her university, surrounded by students chattering in melodic Italian. Ivy climbed the sandstone walls around her like veins on old parchment. The lemon trees swayed lazily in the breeze, dropping citrus blossoms at her feet.She smiled, pressing a sketchbook to her chest as she glanced around the campus. Everything felt alive here.Everything… except her memory.She still didn’t remember the man they told her had sat beside her hospital bed for days.The man whose voice had trembled

Rain tapped softly against the stained-glass windows like a thousand whispers of forgotten voices, echoing through the stone corridors of Florence’s Biblioteca Nazionale Centrale. Emilia pulled her coat tighter around her frame, her umbrella dripping quietly in the grand marble foyer as she stepped past the entry doors.It was the largest library she had ever seen.And it felt like stepping into another century.The floors stretched endlessly in veined white marble, polished to a mirrored sheen that reflected the vaulted ceiling overhead. Massive stone columns rose like ancient trees to support intricately carved beams that seemed to hold the weight of history itself. Along the ceiling, faded frescoes swirled with depictions of myth and muse—gilded gods, robed scholars, and winged cherubs suspended mid-scroll.Her shoes barely made a sound on the pristine floor as she walked toward the atrium, where the scent of old paper and timeworn leather met the coolness of damp stone.Emilia had