Chapter 583
“I love you,” I whispered, the words escaping before I could catch them. My heart pounded, as if it couldn’t believe I had finally said it aloud. “I’ve loved you longer than I’ll admit, even when I was pretending I didn’t. Even when I told myself you belonged to someone like Lea, or to a world I’d never fit in. But I do. I fit here, with you. I want to.”
The words tumbled faster, unstoppable now.
“I’ll sell my shares in Valmont & Cie. I’ll walk away from Paris, from everything I thought mattered more than you. I’ll even give up Mira Joie if I have to. I’ll do it all, if it means you’ll open your eyes and look at me again. Because nothing matters without you. Nothing.”
My hand found his, cold and limp beneath the hospital sheet. I held on tight, tighter than I ever had.
“So if you can hear me,” I whispered, “if even a part of you is listening, please, wake up. Because I don’t want a world where you’re not in it. I don’t want to waste another second pretending I don’t love you.”
I kissed the back of his hand, my lips lingering against his skin.
And for a heartbeat, I thought I felt the faintest squeeze in return.
I surfaced from the dark slowly, as though I were dragging myself out of deep water. My body felt heavy, my head thick, and for a long moment I couldn’t tell if I was awake or still lost somewhere in the fog of fever. Shapes swam in and out of view, a dull light cutting through the haze.
Then I saw her.
Mira, sitting in the chair by my bed, her chin resting on her hand, her eyes fixed on me as if she were willing me to open mine.
I thought I was dreaming again. My mind had played that trick before, conjuring her face when I drifted in and out of half-consciousness.
“Mira?” My voice was rough, barely more than a whisper.
Her head snapped up, eyes wide. Relief flooded her face so fiercely it almost hurt to look at. She reached for my hand, holding it between both of hers as if she were afraid I might vanish.
“You’re awake. Thank God. Ashton, you’re awake.”
I tried to shift, the simple act of moving my right arm sending a bolt of pain up to my shoulder. I clenched my jaw, forcing myself not to flinch. My fingers barely responded, the dull weight of them making my stomach twist. She must have seen it. She didn’t say anything, but her grip tightened.
“How long?” I managed.
“Almost a week. You’ve been in and out—fever, mostly. The doctors said you needed rest.”
Her voice was soft, steady, but I caught the exhaustion in it, the edges frayed from nights spent watching over me. Guilt settled like lead in my chest. She shouldn’t have been here, wasting herself on me.
I closed my eyes for a moment, then forced them open again. “The company.”
Mira leaned closer, her lips curving into a faint smile. “LGH is safe. The moratorium’s been withdrawn. Investors are calm again. You don’t need to worry about it anymore.”
Safe. Withdrawn. Words I wanted to believe, but I knew the cost of such victories. Nothing in this world came without a price. And if she was the one delivering this news, that meant she had been the one paying.
I studied her face. She looked worn, shadows under her eyes, but there was fire in her expression—a determination I recognized. She’d been fighting for me. Fighting battles that should have been mine.
“What did you give up?” My voice came out rougher than I intended.
.
.
.