All Chapters of His Wife On Paper : Chapter 41 - Chapter 50

Kian’s POVThe hospital at three in the morning was a ghost town of flickering fluorescent lights and the smell of industrial-grade despair. I walked back through the sliding glass doors, the automatic hum sounding like a tired sigh. My footsteps echoed against the sterile white tile, sharp and rhythmic, like gunshots in a canyon.I felt like a hollowed-out version of the man who had left this building hours ago. My jaw throbbed where Elijah’s fist had connected, a dull, pulsing reminder of the truth that was currently dismantling my soul. His words were a physical weight in my gut, dragging me down into a dark, suffocating sea of guilt that I couldn't swim out of.Your child died two years ago.Every breath I took felt like I was inhaling crushed glass. I had spent three years nursing my pride, hating Eliora for the way she disappeared, when all along, she had been buried under the weight of a grief I had helped build. I had been the storm, and she had been the one left picking up th

Eliora’s POVThe world wasn't a place; it was a weight. It was the crushing sensation of being buried alive under layers of cold, wet earth, with a high-pitched ringing in my ears that sounded like a tea kettle screaming in a distant room. There were flashes of the nightmare, jagged, strobe-light memories of blinding white high beams, the smell of burnt rubber, and the screech of metal screaming against metal as my world folded in on itself.But louder than the crash, sharper than the glass, was that voice.“Farewell, Rora.”The name had been a caress and a death sentence, delivered in a tone that vibrated with a cold, familiar possessiveness. It was a voice I would know in the depths of hell, yet it had been twisted through a filter, turned into something mechanical and monstrous.My eyelids felt like they had been stitched shut with lead wire. I fought the heaviness, pushing through a thick, chemical fog that made my limbs feel like they belonged to someone else—someone made of ston

Kian’s POVThe fluorescent lights of the hospital hallway felt like they were vibrating, humming with a high-pitched frequency that set my teeth on edge. My heart was still hammering against my ribs, a frantic, uneven rhythm that I couldn't throttle into submission. I could still see her. Even when I closed my eyes, the image was burned into my retinas: the way Eli’s eyes had gone wide and hollow, the way she had recoiled from my touch as if my hands were made of liquid fire."Don't."That one word was a jagged blade, and it was currently buried deep in my chest, twisting with every breath I took."Mr. Donovan," a calm, clinical voice broke through the roar in my ears. I turned to see Dr. Aris standing there, his hands tucked into the pockets of his white coat. His expression wasn't unkind, but it was firm, the look of a man who dealt with life and death every day and didn't have time for a billionaire’s ego. "I’m going to have to ask you to stay away from her room for the time being

Eliora's POV "One more step, Eli. Just one. Focus on me, not the floor."Elijah’s voice was a low, steady hum, a stark contrast to the chaotic screaming of my nerves. I looked up at him, my vision blurred by a thin veil of cold sweat. His hands were firm on my waist, his knuckles brushing against the thin, papery fabric of my hospital gown. He was my anchor, the only thing keeping me from collapsing into a heap of useless limbs on the linoleum."I can't," I whispered, the words trembling as they left my lips.The floor was a vast, frozen tundra. My bare feet felt the biting chill of the tiles, a sensation so sharp it felt like needles pricking at the soles of my feet. I hated this. I hated the way my legs felt like they were made of lead and static, disconnected from the brain that was frantically commanding them to move. I felt small. I felt broken."Yes, you can," Elijah urged, his grip tightening just enough to be reassuring. "One step for Ezra. He’s waiting for his mom to come hom

Eliora’s POVThe silence that followed Elijah’s exit was thick, but for the first time since the crash, it wasn't heavy. It was just Zoey and me. The two of us had survived more than just corporate scandals and car wrecks; we had survived a silence that had lasted years.I watched her for a moment, noticing the way she avoided my gaze, her fingers drumming a restless, syncopated beat against the cardboard of her coffee cup."Zoey?" I asked softly."Yeah?""What's going on between you and Drew?"Zoey’s hand froze. For a second, the room was so quiet I could hear the distant, rhythmic hum of the heart monitor. She didn’t look up. She didn't even blink."I don't know what you are talking about," she said, her voice a little too flat, a little too rehearsed."Zoeyyy," I sang out, drawing out her name with the familiar, knowing tone I used back in college. "Don’t do that. Don’t pull the 'ice queen' routine on me.""I will... I still don't know what you are talking about," she insisted, fin