When the silence in the room became unbearable, Tessa forced a smile at Ash. “I’ll… I’ll just go get us some breakfast,” she whispered, not even convincing herself.Ash's lips curved faintly. “That sounds nice.”She turned quickly before he could see the war in her eyes.The moment she stepped into the corridor, Brooklyn was already there, walking a few paces behind like a shadow.“Brooklyn, please… not now,” Tessa muttered as she tightened her grip on her purse, her voice shaking more than she wanted.“Now is exactly the time,” Brooklyn replied smoothly, his polished shoes echoing down the hospital corridor as he followed her. He looked immaculate, suit crisp, tie knotted to perfection, as though the sterile white walls were his boardroom. “You can’t keep running in circles, Tess. He’s sinking, and if you stay tied to him, you’re going under too.”She stopped, halfway toward the cafeteria, and whirled on him. “Don’t say it like that. He’s my husband.”Brooklyn tilted his head, calm a

“Sir, stop! You can’t pull that out—”The nurse’s scream tore through the quiet hospital corridor, but Ash didn’t stop. His hand ripped at the IV line lodged in his arm, pain flaring sharp and bright as the needle slid free. Blood streaked across his wrist, the monitor’s steady beeping spiraling into chaos.“I don’t care!” Ash’s voice was raw, cracking, desperate. He stumbled to his feet, the hospital gown hanging loose, his body swaying like he might collapse. “I can’t stay here. I can’t—”“You’ll kill yourself!” The nurse lunged forward, but he staggered past her, his bare feet slapping against the cold tiles.Tessa’s words still rang in his ears, burning like acid. You’re cursed, Mike. You’ve always been cursed. And I can’t let my daughter’s future be ruined because of you.Each word had carved him open, deeper than the IV tearing from his arm. He saw her face when she said it—hard, cold, unfamiliar. He didn’t even recognize her anymore.“I just want to go home,” he whispered hoars

"You’re restless."The voice was silk and steel all at once. Ash startled slightly, turning his head. He hadn’t even heard her footsteps. Sienna Langston stood at the edge of the lantern-lit garden path, her robe fluttering softly in the evening breeze.Ash shifted uneasily on the bench where he’d been sitting, hunched over like a man carrying weights too heavy for his shoulders. "You should be resting," he muttered, his tone low, cautious.Sienna tilted her head, her smile small but deliberate. "Rest?" she repeated, her voice tinged with amusement. "After dragging you out of that pathetic hospital bed where your wife abandoned you? No, Ash. Tonight, I’d rather talk."Ash’s jaw tightened. "She’s… not my wife anymore," he said after a beat, the words tasting bitter on his tongue."Exactly," Sienna replied smoothly, stepping closer, her shadow stretching in the lantern glow. She continued as if she wasn't in the hospital, telling him how unfit Tessa was to be his wife."She left you when

“Sleep, Ash. You should be asleep by now.”His own voice startled him. It was low, hoarse, spilling into the darkness of the room like a confession.But sleep didn’t come. It hadn’t touched him since Sienna had left him in the garden with her poison-laced sweetness.Ash sat on the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees, fists pressed against his temples. The clock ticked mercilessly on the far wall, each second like a hammer in his head. His body was healed enough to move, to breathe without gasping—but his heart throbbed as though someone had pressed a blade into it and forgotten to pull it out.He lifted his eyes, scanning the room.A suite like something out of a magazine. Crisp sheets without a wrinkle. Curtains heavy and rich, swallowing the moonlight. The faint scent of lilies in a vase on the dresser. Sienna had thought of everything. She had turned this space into a sanctuary—warm meals, warm bed, even the illusion of safety.Yet he had never felt more empty.Ash leaned back, st

“Ben… just rest, okay?” Ash’s voice was low, steady, but it carried a weight his younger brother could hear.Ben frowned from where he lay under the clean covers. “Rest? Where are you going this early?”Ash forced a weak smile. “To see… what’s left of home.”Ben pushed up on his elbows. “You mean—”“I need to,” Ash interrupted softly, gaze distant. “I can’t stop thinking about it.”He slipped out quietly before dawn broke fully, the Langston house still wrapped in silence. No servants stirred, no sound of Sienna’s measured footsteps. Just him, his worn jacket against the morning chill, and his heart hammering with dread.The walk back to the old neighborhood felt endless. Every corner was familiar, yet it pressed against him with the weight of shame. And when his old apartment block came into sight—paint peeling, iron gates rattling in the breeze—his chest clenched.Two women at the entrance of the compound paused.“Is that… Ash?” one whispered.“The wife left him, didn’t she?” the ot