Chapter 360
[ 533 words ]
Chapter 360:
Caroline’s throat tightened. She thought about calling him, about telling him everything—about Donovan, about the journal, about the impossible choice she was being forced to make. But the words wouldn’t come. She wasn’t ready to drag anyone else into the wreckage of her life.
Another message. Just promise me you’ll be careful. The situation with your husband’s security people… it hasn’t gone away. I was warned to keep my distance. I’m choosing to ignore that warning because you’re my friend. But we both need to be smart about this.
She stood there for a long moment, the weight of his words settling over her like a shroud. Julian was risking something by even texting her. She didn’t know who had warned him off—Jarrod’s security team, or someone else with a stake in keeping her isolated—but the threat was real.
She typed one final message. I promise. And Julian—thank you.
She drove home in silence, the city lights blurring past her window. She had never felt more alone. But somewhere in the darkness, a good man was watching her back, and that knowledge was a small, stubborn light against the encroaching shadows.
Donovan Sinclair’s surgery lasted eight hours. Caroline spent the time in the hospital waiting room, pretending to read a magazine, her mind churning. Dr. Foster had explained the risks—the tumor was aggressive, and there were no guarantees. The word “palliative” had been used. The word “terminal” had hovered unspoken in the air.
When Dr. Foster finally emerged from the operating room, his face was drawn with exhaustion. “We removed as much as we could,” he said. “But I won’t lie to you, Caroline. The cancer has spread. We’re looking at months, not years.”
Months. The word echoed in her mind. She had just met this man. She had rejected him, resented him, and now… now she was going to lose him.
“I understand,” she said, her voice steady despite the turmoil inside her.
Donovan was moved to a private recovery room. Caroline visited him that evening, sitting in the chair beside his bed, watching the steady rise and fall of his chest. He was still unconscious, his face pale and gaunt beneath the bandages. He looked fragile. Mortal.
The door opened, and Julian Croft stepped inside. He looked even worse than before—unshaven, his eyes bloodshot. He closed the door softly behind him.
ѕ𝘁𝘰𝗋𝗂𝗲𝗌 уou 𝘄o𝗇’t p𝘶𝗍 𝖽о𝘸ո 𝘰𝗇 𝗀𝗮ln𝗼𝘃e𝗹s.𝗰о𝗆
“I heard about the surgery,” he said, his voice low. “Is he…?”
“He’s my biological father,” Caroline said, the words feeling strange in her mouth. “I only found out a few weeks ago.”
Julian stared at her, his expression a mixture of shock and sympathy. “Caroline, I’m so sorry. That’s… that’s a lot to process.”
“Understatement of the year.”
He pulled up a chair and sat beside her, close but not too close. His hands were clasped tightly in his lap, and he kept glancing toward the door, as if expecting someone to burst through at any moment.
“I meant what I said before,” he said quietly. “I want to help. I know you’re going through something unimaginable. But I need you to understand—I’m taking a risk just being here. They made it very clear what would happen if I got involved.”
“Who are ‘they’?” Caroline demanded, her voice sharp.
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