Page 159 of When Hearts Surrender

Even that motion seems to require a lot of effort. Her words finally sift through the haze, and bits and pieces of the most terrifying night of my life flash through my mind. Cole shot. Belle tied up in the rose garden. The storm. Morris pointing a gun at me then turning his aim toward her.

Me throwing myself in front of her, a bullet piercing my back because I couldn’t let her dieagain.What?The dreams and visions meld together, blurring reality and imagination, but everything feels achingly real.

I remember my fevered words of love as the rain soaked our bodies, promising her I’ll take her to Venice to paint the canals as if that was a promise I made her before.We talked about Venice before, but she never mentioned anything about painting the canals. But why does this feel so real?

I shake myself. It doesn’t matter if nothing makes sense. I’ve survived, and she’s here, alive and well.

With me.

I get a second chance with her. My love. Crushing relief floods through me, and I let out a shaky exhale.

I cradle her face, my fingers trailing over her silky skin. “I love you so much, Belle. So, so much.”It feels so good to say this without fear now.

Her lips tremble and she shakes her head. “You insane, infuriating man. Mr. Bad Influence. God, I love you so much!”

She presses her lips to mine and I savor the gentleness of her touch, the sweetness of her taste, even as pain threatens to unmoor me.

“I’m here. I’m never leaving,” I whisper against her lips as she pulls away.

The rest of the room slowly comes into focus. I see the teary eyes of Grace and Taylor standing by the corner. Steven is rubbing a hand over his weary face. Ryland is next to the bed, his hands gripping the railing, his nostrils flaring as moisture gathers in his eyes. Millie beams next to him, her cheeks already wet with tears. Rex is clutching a trembling Lana, with Ethan rubbing comforting circles on her back.

Charles mutters “fuck” over and over under his breath. He’s by the window, sitting next to Dad, who looks like he hasn’t slept in ages.

My family. They’re all here. For me.

“How the fuck did you guys get the hospital to let you in here all at once?”

“You fucker,” Ryland chokes out, his lips twisting into a relieved smile. “You fucking shit.”

“You briefly woke up, but then you fell unconscious again.” Lana lifts her head up from Rex’s chest. “I was so worried!”

“Son, how are you feeling?” Dad edges closer, his throat working. He’s clearly emotional and trying to stay calm—the bearing of the eldest Anderson son.

“I’m sorry, Dad, everyone, for scaring you all.”

“This is why I never want to be a hero,” Rex mutters, wiping his hand under his suspiciously red eyes. “Give me booze and pussy, but you won’t find me trying to save the day any fucking time soon.”

Taylor scoffs, her voice thick. “No one would ever mistake you as a hero, Rex.”

Rex throws her a sarcastic glare.

“Aren’t you a ray of sunshine, Taylor?” Charles mutters under his breath.

“Why the fuck are you in here, anyway? It’s not like you’re family.” Taylor scowls.

Something niggles my consciousness. “What happened to Morris? Melody, Mora, and Agnes? Cole? Elias?”

My siblings take turns filling me in—Morris died from the two gunshot wounds, but mysteriously, the casings and bullets were never found, so the police had nothing to go on and no one implicated Elias, who, after calling for an ambulance, disappeared with his crew before the authorities arrived. Morris left behind a letter on his bed, detailing how he blamed my entire family for the tragedy that had befallen his and a journal that read like an unhinged manifesto.

It was a detailed confession to the multiple murders in our family, including the various accidents he engineered—the busted pipe incident at the shelter, hiring a driver to scare Belle in SoHo, giving a sedative to the security team the night he took me, among the other seemingly unrelated events in the past.

Melody and Mora are recuperating at home after they were treated for acute cyanide poisoning. Elias has disappeared somewhere, but I’m not worried about him. He’s not the king of the underworld for no reason. Cole is rotting in lock up, awaiting trial. That motherfucker. If he didn’t try saving Belle, I’d find him and gut him myself as soon as I get out of this hospital.

“What about Agnes? Is she part of this? I heard a strange phone call the other day,” I ask.

Dad answers, “That was her husband. Agnes called me two days ago to tender her resignation. She said she would’ve contacted Belle, but she was too ashamed. Apparently, she stole a few heirlooms from us over the years and her husband was blackmailing her for his gambling habits. Anyway, I told her I’d hold on to her resignation until you woke up. I didn’t even want to think about it then.”

Knock. Knock.

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