I let the silence fill the room again before I move closer to Nate. His face is pale, and the monitor’s beeping remains steady—my only lifeline.
I press a kiss to his knuckles, the silence between us growing thick. He doesn’t stir.
I’m reading to Nate—his favorite book, the one he never finishes without quoting half the dialogue out loud—when the door bursts open.
“Isabel, is there any news?” Grace’s voice reaches me before she does. She rushes into the room and wraps her arms around me, trembling. Her perfume lingers faintly—lavender and panic.
Before I can answer, Gabriel barrels in behind her, gripping my arm so tightly it almost bruises. “What happened?” His voice cracks. Gabriel Weister, the unshakable Duke, actually shaking. I’ve never seen him look this pale, unguarded.
“He had surgery,” I manage, swallowing down the lump in my throat. “They removed several mine splinters from his back. That’s all I know so far.”
Truth is, I didn’t ask for the full story. I don’t care what happened out there—not right now. Not when Nate’s chest rises and falls slowly beside me and that goddamn machine keeps beeping like it owns my heartbeat.
Grace stumbles to Nate’s side, brushing his hair back with shaking hands, whispering his name like a prayer. “Oh my God… How is he? Did he wake up?”
“He's been sedated since he had a seizure.” My voice cracks, but I force myself to keep going.
Gabriel’s entire frame goes rigid. “He had convulsions?”
I nod. “They hadn’t removed all the shrapnel. One piece was too close to a sensitive spot near the spine. They stopped. Waited for permission.”
Grace looks up, eyes wide. “Why would they need your permission? Couldn’t they remove it in the first operation?”
“They didn’t want to take the risk,” I answer, keeping my voice calm even as the storm brews in my gut. “The splinter could’ve caused permanent paralysis. There was only a sixty percent chance he’d walk again. They needed someone to make the call.”
Gabriel steps closer, jaw clenched. “You didn’t sign it, did you?”
I meet his gaze, spine straight. “Of course, I did.”
“You’re a fool, Isabel!” His voice erupts like thunder, crashing into every nerve ending I have left.
And that’s it.
My hands shake as I slam the book shut. “How dare you!” I jab my finger into his chest, hard enough to make him stumble a step back. “Should I have let him die instead? Let that damn thing rot inside him because you think you always know better?”
His hand reaches out, catching mine midair, and I rip it back like it’s burned me.
“Watch your mouth,” he growls. “Your father raised you better than that.”
Something inside me snaps. Rage flows through my veins like wildfire, too hot to hold back.
“This is all your fault!” I scream, my voice raw. “If you had ever been a father, Nate wouldn’t be lying in this bed right now!”
Gabriel’s eyes narrow. “You can’t blame me for this?—”
“Can’t I?” I step forward, voice trembling with fury. “Who forced him into the military academy? Who shoved tradition down his throat like a damn chokehold? You never gave him a choice! He begged you, Gabriel. Begged. And you turned your back on him.”
“Isabel, that’s enough,” he warns, towering over me.
“No,” I snarl, refusing to back down. “What if I won’t stop, huh? What are you going to do—exile me like you did to him? Strip me of titles? Toss me aside because I dared to call you out?”
He flinches like I slapped him.
“Have you ever wondered how he felt?” My voice breaks, and I force the rest out, even through the tears burning my eyes. “How much it must have cost him to pretend he didn’t need you? The Grand Duke of Weister, so obsessed with order, with power, with appearances… You didn’t raise a son, Gabriel. You groomed a soldier.”
Gabriel stumbles back, collapsing onto the sofa, burying his face in his hands. “I… I’ve always wanted what’s best for him.”
I stare at him, hollow and shaking. “Maybe the best for him would’ve been a father who hugged him once in a while. One who told him he was proud. Not a cold shadow barking orders like a general.”
