Chapter 47
Chapter 47:
Dallas reached for a plastic cup with a bendy straw on the bedside table and held it to her lips. Eliza drank greedily. The cool liquid moved down her ravaged throat like a mercy. A drop escaped the corner of her mouth and trailed down her chin. Dallas didn’t reach for a napkin. He lifted his thumb and wiped it away — a touch that was rough and impossibly gentle at once.
He set the cup down and leaned forward, elbows on his knees, hands clasped.
“Why?” he asked. His voice was low, vibrating with suppressed anger.
Eliza’s mind was still foggy from the medication. “Why what?” she whispered.
“Why did you eat it?” he said, his eyes boring into hers. “You knew what it was. I saw the hesitation. You knew p>
Eliza looked away, fixing her gaze on the white blanket covering her legs. The shame settled over her like a weight. “To shut them up,” she admitted, barely audible. “To leave with dignity. If I refused, if I made a scene — they would have won. They would have called me bitter. Unstable p>
𝗡𝗲𝘄 𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗽𝘁𝗲𝗿𝘀 𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿𝘆 𝘄𝗲𝗲𝗸 𝗼𝗻
Dallas laughed. It was a harsh, humorless sound that cracked like a whip in the quiet room.
“Dignity?” He stood and moved to the window, then turned back sharply. “You almost died, Eliza. You went into respiratory arrest. You stopped breathing for four seconds. For dignity? For his ego p>
“He didn’t stop her,” Eliza said, tears pricking at her eyes. The memory of Anson standing there — watching Claudine press the fork toward her mouth, doing nothing — was more painful than the anaphylaxis itself. “He knew I was allergic, and he just stood there p>
“Of course he did,” Dallas said. “He is weak. He has always been weak. He lets his mother hold his leash and his fiancée hold the whip p>
He walked back to the bed and closed his hand around the metal bedrail until his knuckles went white.
“Why did you ever love him?” he asked. The accusation had left his voice; what remained was a genuine question, laced with bewilderment and something that sounded like pain.
Eliza stared at the ceiling, trying to hold back the tears. “He was the only one who was kind to me. When I was little. For a while, he made me believe I wasn’t just a charity case.” She paused. “He gave me a cage and convinced me it was a home p>
Dallas drew a long, heavy breath. He looked at her — really looked at her — with an expression of raw vulnerability she had never seen on his face before.
“I would have given you the world,” he said, the words so quiet she almost missed them.
Eliza turned her head sharply. “What p>
Dallas’s face closed. He released the bedrail. “Forget the past,” he said, his voice settling back into its usual steel.
He leaned in, filling her space. His scent — clean soap and sharp, residual fear — reached her.
“He is history,” Dallas said. “I am here now. I am the one holding your hand p>
He reached down and took her hand. His fingers interlaced with hers, locking them together. His grip was firm and grounding. The plain silver ring she had bought him caught the harsh hospital light — a simple, solid promise against his skin.
“I am the one who breathed for you,” he whispered.