Page 143 of Gabriel
Kian stepped beside me, his shoulder brushing mine in quiet solidarity.
“I thought we agreed,” I said under my breath, “you wouldn’t say anything until after the marriage.”
He rolled his eyes. “Oh, please. You try ignoring your parents and Liana blowing up your phone. Honestly, you should be thanking me. I lasted a whole week. I deserve a damn medal.”
I snorted into my cup. “Fine. Bronze, at best.”
“Harsh.” He leaned against the wall. “So… how’s the patient?”
I sighed and glanced toward the room. Monitors beeped faintly in the background, steady but far too clinical.
“I can’t wait to get out of here,” I said.
Kian winced. “God, your optimism is infectious.”
“I aim to please.”
Silence followed for several heartbeats before Kian spoke again. “Gabriel Santos is a good man, and if I may say so, a perfect match for you.”
I tilted my head, studying him. “You seem to know a lot about him.”
He chuckled. “Of course I do. It’s my job, plus Jet admitted once or twice that Gabriel circled you like… what’s the word he used… a vulture.” I scoffed at the irony. “Anyhow, it prompted me to look into him, and I like him. He’s well balanced.”
My brows knitted. “What do you mean?”
“A good part of his childhood was fairly normal. He wasn’t part of the criminal world because he lived with Sailor away from it all and under the protection of the so-called Billionaire Kings.”
“Yes, I’m aware. He manages to surprise me at every turn,” I admitted, shaking my head with a bemused sigh.
Kian chuckled, the sound warm and a touch too smug.
“That’s a good thing. Keeps things interesting. Makes the marriage feel more like an adventure and less like a sentence.”
I smiled at the thought, imagining what we’d face together—the good and the challenging.
“Still,” Kian continued. “Gabriel’s got his feet on the ground. More… let’s saynormalthan the rest of the Santos clan.”
I stared at him. “Wow, that’s high praise.”
He smiled and opened his mouth to speak again when the door opened.
Gabriel stepped out of the room, dressed in a perfectly tailored three-piece suit, like he’d walked straight out of a memory. There he stood with the same confident posture, same calm intensity in his expression.
But there was one undeniable difference.
In his right hand, he held a white guide cane.
For a heartbeat, I was between the past and the present, between who he was and who he’d become. But then I moved—leaving Kian behind without a second thought—and rushed to him, threading my fingers through his.
He squeezed my hand like an anchor, steady and sure.
“Hey,preciosa,” he said. “Are you ready to get out of here?”
“So damn ready,” I breathed, not even trying to hide the relief in my voice.
Whatever came next didn’t matter.
We were stepping into it together, and that made all the difference.
