Chapter 6

Elena POV:

A nurse bustled in, her expression a bright mask of professional cheerfulness that felt like sandpaper on my raw nerves.

"Oh, you're awake! Mr. Emerson had us fill the room with these for you. Isn't he the most romantic man?"

She gestured to the peonies, their cloying scent clogging my throat, making my eyes water and my skin begin to itch.

Romantic. He'd forgotten my severe allergy.

It wasn't just a detail; it was everything.

He didn't love me. He loved the idea of being a man who loved his wife, a man who filled her hospital room with flowers. The specific flower, the specific woman, didn't matter.

The door opened and Killian stepped inside, holding a vase of lilies-another flower he should have known I disliked.

He looked tired, a shadow of a bruise under his eye.

"You're awake," he said, his voice tentative, as if testing the temperature of the room.

I said nothing. My eyes remained locked on the vase of peonies on the nightstand.

With a surge of cold energy, I shoved it.

It crashed against the floor, shattering, sending a spray of water and petals across the white linoleum.

"Get out," I whispered, the words barely audible.

Instead of leaving, he knelt, playing the part of the caring husband, picking up the larger shards of glass.

"Elena, let's just talk."

He cut his finger. A drop of red welled on his skin. His eyes instinctively flickered to mine, that old, familiar search for sympathy.

I turned my head away, staring at the blank wall.

"It was a tactical decision," he said, his voice low as he straightened, wrapping a tissue around his bleeding finger. "In a hit, you protect the most vulnerable asset first. Dallas was on the passenger side. It was just... tactics."

He offered me a box of my favorite chocolates, a peace offering. I slapped them out of his hand.

They scattered across the floor, mixing with the broken glass and ruined flowers.

"I said, get out."

The mask slipped. The patient, concerned husband vanished, and the ruthless Don I knew so well emerged.

His jaw tightened, his eyes hardening to ice.

"Don't be stupid, Elena. Who do you think is paying for this room? Who paid for every single one of Leo's medical bills before..."

He trailed off, the threat hanging in the air between us.

My finger, trembling slightly, pointed to the door.

Killian stared at me for a long, hard second. Then he turned and stormed out, slamming the door behind him.

The sound echoed in the silent room, and finally, the tears came.

Hot, silent tears of grief and a sheer, soul-crushing exhaustion.