Page 4 of Fallen Empire
I hadn’t thought about that night in years.
Because I made a vow to never let myself fall like that again.
So once again, I’d locked the softness and feelings away in a box in my mind. I called it Pandora’s Box. If it ever broke, I’d be in bright rooms with white socks and plenty of pills.
But sitting in this hospital room, beside the girl I considered a sister, with Ben ten feet away pretending I didn’t exist—Yeah, it was hard not to feel it again.
Jaxson was a wreck, half-drunk off his ass every day and night. I’d do the same if I were in his shoes. After all, how doyou rest when the person who saved your life is stuck between staying and slipping away?
He tried to stay. Tried to hold it together as best he could. But last night, the nurses finally kicked him out. Said they’d had enough of the drinking, enough of the shouting, enough of the grief that shook the walls.
I didn’t blame them. But I didn’t blame him either.
He showed up drunk. Slurring. Begging her to wake up like she could hear him. He yelled at the doctor. Punched a wall. And then they escorted him out like a stranger who didn’t belong here.
The truth is—none of us did.
We belonged back in time.
Before the shot. Before the blood. Before everything cracked open.
But she’s lying in this bed because she made a choice.
She chose to save him.
It wasn’t his burden to bear. But I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little angry with him, too.
The news had already broken.
Sinclair Holdings was crumbling. The empire Savannah was born into—real estate, mergers, private assets—was being set on fire—and not a soul outside this room knew why.
This wasn’t justice. It wasn’t revenge. It was grief, made global.
And there’s nothing we can do except wait.
I brushed a tear off my cheek and reached for her limp fingers. I’d talked to her a million times over the past few days. I knew it wouldn’t change a thing.
“You don’t get to die on me, Vannah,” I whispered. “You hear me?”
A flicker.
My heart stopped. Her fingers twitched. Barely. So soft it could’ve been imagined. But then, her eyes moved beneath her lids. A small, shallow breath broke the rhythm of the machine. Her lips parted, slow and strained, like she was trying to speak.
“Savannah?” I shot up, gripping her hand. “Are you awake? Can you hear me?”
Her eyes fluttered open. Just for a second. Her mouth moved again, but no sound came out. Just air and effort. I swore I saw one word:Jaxson.
My body shattered.
I bent over her, pressing my forehead to her hand as the sob broke free from my chest, unrestrained. “You’re going to be okay,” I whispered fiercely. “I’m right here, you’re going to be okay.”My chest ached so deeply it felt like my heart might explode. I couldn’t tell if it was hope or devastation, only that my heart was caught in a war it didn’t know how to win.
The monitor beeped faster. I sat up straighter, wiping my tears. Then slammed the nurse button.
“Ben,” I said sharply, eyes locked on Savannah. “Go get someone.”
He was already halfway to the door.
Then, another sound. Not from the ventilator. A shallow, broken breath. Her brows furrowed, lips moving again.
