By the time they bring her back to the room, she looks smaller against the pillows. Pale. Drained. But awake. That’s enough to keep me breathing.
I sit beside her bed, one hand wrapped around hers, and watch the steady rise and fall of her chest.
After a while, she turns her head toward me. “What happened to Maksim?”
I don’t answer immediately.
Her eyes search mine. “Viktor.”
I brush my thumb over her knuckles. “You’re better off not knowing right now.”
Her face tightens. “Is he dead?”
“No.”
The truth seems to unsettle her more than comfort her.
“He’s alive,” I say. “He’s being watched. He won’t get near you again.”
A knock comes at the door before she can say anything else.
Alina enters without waiting for permission. She looks tired now. Still elegant, still controlled, but not untouched. Her eyes move to Sienna first, then to me, then to our joined hands.
Her mouth tightens. “So it’s true,” she says.
Sienna looks away.
I don’t.
“If you came to start another fight, leave,” I say.
Alina’s gaze snaps to me. “Your son is being treated down the hall. The wedding is ruined, and you’re sitting here holding her hand like this is the only thing that matters.”
I stand slowly. “It is.”
The words stop her.
For a moment she just stares at me. Then she laughs once, bitter and disbelieving. “Of course. Of course it is.”
“Alina.”
Her voice shakes now, but she keeps going. “You always did this. You decide something belongs to you, and suddenly the rest of the world can burn.”
“Sienna does not belong to me.”
“No?” She looks at our hands again. “Then what is this?”
“This is me choosing her.”
The room goes quiet. Sienna’s fingers tighten around mine, but she doesn’t speak.
Alina’s face changes. Not anger this time. Pain. “You have a family.”
“I know.”
“A son.”
“I know that too.”
