Page 74 of The Arrogant's Redemption

About five hours later, the certainty that everything went as expected sends a surge of adrenaline through my body like I’ve never felt before.

When the procedure ends, I feel as if I can breathe again.

She’s going to be okay. I brought her back so she can hate me.

Alexis can hate me until I make her fall in love with me again, because I’m done denying myself the right to a second chance.

I want her, and I won’t give up until she’s mine. This time, though, I won’t let her go.

"Is everything okay?" Athanasios and William approach me as soon as I step out of the OR.

"What are you doing here?"

Both look uncomfortable, which is a first.

"We heard what happened," William says. "How did the procedure go?"

"She’s going to survive."

"I thought we’d have more time before the surgery," Athanasios says.

When he came to tell me about his meeting with Marla, he instantly knew who she was. They both knew who Alexis had been in my life, though I doubt either of them imagined she’d become my patient.

"Her mother’s here. She’s in the hallway. Looks distraught," Athanasios informs.

"I’m going to speak with her right now."

Minutes later, when I go to meet her, I’m surprised by how much they resemble each other.

I expected them to look alike, but not that Marla would be an older version of Alexis. Mother and daughter are identical.

"You must be Marla Gillis," I say, extending my hand to greet her.

"And you must be Lazarus, the man who broke my daughter’s heart. I hope you’ve at least partially redeemed yourself by healing her condition. How is she?"

Lazarus

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

I don’t say anything,although her reaction doesn’t surprise me. I don’t know much about Alexis’s mother, other than what I found out when I decided to help her get rid of the charges by hiring Matheus, but one thing is clear: no one goes through what she has—from losing her daughter’s father to the rest of her family, spending years searching for her child without success, and then being imprisoned—without being incredibly strong.

Her expression is as defiant as her daughter’s, and a strange sense ofdéjà vuhits me. At first, I think it’s because looking at Marla Gillis is like seeing a copy of Alexis. But a few seconds pass, and the feeling intensifies.

“Have we met before?” I ask, even though I feel like an idiot the moment the words slip out.

Her expression softens. “Not that I remember. Why?”

“I don’t know. I had this weird feeling.”

“Your partner said the same thing.”

“What?”

“I think his name is Dr. Athanasios, right? He told me the same thing when we met at the hospital entrance the other day—that my face looked familiar. But I don’t remember either of you. Now please, tell me about my Alexis, since we skipped the pleasantries and you already know I’m not exactly your biggest fan.”

If I cared about what people thought of me, I might try to explain my situation and why I didn’t look for her daughter in the past two years. But here’s the truth: I’ve changed a lot, but not when it comes to disliking humans. And I certainly don’t care what they think of me.

Besides, my relationship with Alexis is none of her business.

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