Chapter 8: Room 412**
The sterile white walls of St. Jude Memorial Hospital hummed with the steady rhythm of heart monitors and soft-soled nursing shoes. In Room 412, Sarah lay against the thin hospital pillows, her pale face framed by soft brown curls. Her breath was shallow, but her eyes remained watchful, fixed on the door.
When the heavy wooden door pushed open, it wasn't the nurse carrying an IV drip.
It was Leo, clutching a bouquet of wild yellow marigolds that were slightly bent from the helicopter ride.
“Mom!” Leo whispered, running to the side of the bed.
Sarah’s tired face lit up with a fragile, beautiful smile. She reached out, running weak fingers through his dark wavy hair. “Leo... oh, sweet boy. You shouldn't have gone alone. I told Mrs. Higgins to watch you while I slept...”
“I wasn't alone, Mom,” Leo said, stepping aside.
Damian stood in the doorway. He had taken off his suit jacket, rolling up his sleeves. The power, the arrogance, and the billionaire facade were entirely gone. He looked exactly as he had ten years ago in the small town bakery—a man standing in front of his whole world.
“Sarah,” Damian whispered, stepping into the room as if walking on sacred ground.
May you like
Sarah looked at him, her eyes shining with tears that did not fall from sorrow, but from a long-awaited release. “You remembered what the card meant.”
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