All Chapters of Healing with the monster : Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

The West Wing of the De Luca manor wasn't a room; it was a sanctuary of cold, clinical luxury. The ceilings were so high they disappeared into the shadows, and the silk drapes were the color of dried blood. Outside, the storm continued to batter the stone walls, but inside, the air was eerily still.I stood by the floor-to-ceiling window, my forehead resting against the glass. Somewhere in this sprawling labyrinth of stone and secrets, my son was fighting for his life. He was surrounded by machines and white-coated strangers, while I was surrounded by velvet and diamonds.We are both in cages, I thought, my breath fogging the pane. His is made of glass and tubes. Mine is made of gold and fear.A sharp, metallic click echoed through the room.I spun around, my heart leaping into my throat. The heavy mahogany door, which I had tried to turn a dozen times in the last hour, finally groaned open.Julian stepped in. He had discarded his surgical coat and loosened his tie, his charcoal shirt

The glass of the French doors was cold against my palms, a thin barrier between my prison and the storm outside. From the second-story balcony of the West Wing, I watched the silver Maybach turn around and disappear into the curtain of rain.Silas was gone.My knees hit the plush carpet, the breath leaving my lungs in a jagged sob. He had been right there. Five years of silence, five years of wondering if he even remembered my name, and he had finally come for us—only to be turned away by a piece of paper and a lie."He didn't even look up," I whispered to the empty room. "He didn't even try to see me.""Because he was too busy performing for his lady-reporter," a voice drawled from the doorway.I scrambled to my feet, wiping my eyes with the back of my hand. Julian was leaning against the doorframe, his shirt soaked through, his dark hair plastered to his forehead. He looked like a drowned god, beautiful and terrifying. In his hand, he held the legal guardianship papers, now damp and

The grand staircase of the De Luca manor felt like a runway to a gallows.Below me, the ballroom was a sea of black ties, silk gowns, and the sharp, artificial scent of expensive perfume. This was the world that had chewed me up and spat me out five years ago, and now, I was descending back into its throat.Julian’s hand was firm on the small of my back. Through the thin silk of my dress, his touch felt like a branding iron."Breathe, Elara," he murmured, his voice barely audible over the swelling music of the string quartet. "You look like a woman who has never known a day of want in her life. Keep that chin up. If you look down, they’ll see the waitress. If you look ahead, they’ll see the future Mrs. De Luca.""Is that who I am tonight?" I whispered. "A lie?""Tonight, you are whatever I need you to be," he countered.As we reached the bottom step, the crowd parted like a dark tide. Heads turned. Whispers rippled through the room like a physical wind. I felt the weight of a thousand

The red emergency light pulsed against the white walls like a warning flare. Julian’s hand was steady, the silver barrel of the Beretta aimed squarely at Silas’s chest, but his eyes were wide, frantic, and filled with the terrifying conviction of a man who believed his own lies."I am the one who saved him!" Julian roared, his voice bouncing off the sterile tiles. "Me! Not you, Silas! You were a ghost. I was the one who felt his fever. I was the one who sat in the dark and promised him he wouldn't die!""You didn't save him for him, Julian," I said, my voice shaking but loud. I took another step forward, feeling the cold floor beneath my bare feet. "You saved him for you. You wanted a prize. You wanted a way to break Silas, and you used a five-year-old boy to do it.""Get back, Elara!" Silas barked, his arm reaching out to shove me behind him. "He’s lost it. He’s going to fire.""Let him," I hissed, stepping around Silas. I looked Julian dead in the eye. "Look at me, Julian. Look at t

The Vane Medical Institute was silent, but it wasn't the dead silence of the De Luca manor. It was a living, breathing quiet—the sound of high-tech air filtration and the distant, rhythmic pulse of the city outside.I sat by Leo’s bed, my hand never leaving his. I was counting his breaths, terrified that if I stopped, he would stop too. Across the room, Silas was a shadow against the window. He hadn't changed his clothes. He hadn't eaten. He looked like a man standing guard at the gates of heaven, waiting to see if he’d be let in.Then, the smallest sound broke the air. A dry, papery cough."Mommy?"The word was a tiny, fragile thread, but it pulled me toward the bed with a force I couldn't resist. Leo’s eyes were open—those dark, soul-searching eyes that had always looked too old for a five-year-old. He blinked against the soft blue light of the recovery suite."I’m here, my love," I whispered, leaning over him until our foreheads touched. "I’m right here. You’re safe."Leo’s gaze wa