Page 44 of The Villain's Beloved (The Villain's Duet 2)

I smoothed my palm across my belly, the two-thousand-dollar silk shirt unable to hide the poor, struggling New York cellist I once was.

The man across from me cleared his throat. “I know this must be a huge shock. But I can assure you there is light at the end of this tunnel.”

“No.” I looked up and straight at him, swallowing hard as a tear slipped down my cheek, my insides being ripped apart with every breath. “There is no light in any of this.”

His thin lips pressed together, his gray mustache curving at the edges. He knew as well as I did that there was no end to this dark tunnel, and therefore no hope of any light.

I got up and straightened my skirt. “Thank you for your time.”

He pushed his glasses back over the bridge of his nose and stood. “Of course. If there is anything I can help with, you have my number.”

“I appreciate that. Have a good day.”

He shot me a sympathetic smile. “Good day…Mrs. Mariano.”

Epilogue

I hated hospitals.The somber mood. The smell. God, the smell was the worst. The potent scent of antiseptic was almost bitter, with undertones of artificial cleaners. The fluorescent lights were harsh and merely highlighted the dreary beige colors that did nothing to brighten an already somber ambiance. Ever since my mother died, I couldn’t stand the thought of hospitals, not to mention being inside one.

The beep of the heart monitor reminded me that he was still breathing. They’d kept him in an induced coma since he tried to rip the IV out once he started to regain consciousness. For his body to heal, he needed rest, and to remain calm.

“My guess is Gianni knew.” Saint crossed his legs as he sat down in the chair next to mine. “Gianni knew he had to make Elijah’s reality his.”

Just like the doctor said.

“Yeah.” I sighed. “Probably.”

“Have you decided what you’re going to do?”

I bit my lip. “No. But right now I just want him to wake up and to know that he’s okay.”

“Doctor said he should wake up any moment now. The bullet missed his spine, so they’re confident he’ll walk again.”

I didn’t respond. I just stared at Elijah, who lay so still on the hospital bed. If it weren’t for the beep, I’d question whether he was alive or not. I had been playing that scene over and over inside my head, and every time I relived it, I could feel the bone-chilling fear of watching Elijah fall to the ground. Julio had managed to pull the trigger of his gun before he took his final breath, and almost took my husband with him. I remembered the crack of the gunshot followed by the pained growl that tore from Elijah's throat. There was so much blood, it pooled around him, spreading through the crevices and cracks of the tiles.

I remembered crying out, but I couldn’t hear myself. There was this eerie sound inside my head—the ringing in my ears mixed with the heavy pounding of my heart. And as Saint pulled me off Elijah, I cried and screamed for God not to let him die. To spare my husband’s life. The lies, the unanswered questions, none of it mattered. All that mattered was him, his life, his every breath. God, I prayed he wouldn’t take his last breath. I would have done anything if it meant saving him. Everything that was wrong with our relationship evaporated. It disappeared, leaving only that which was right and true between us. The one reason I would have traded my own life for his…the fact that I loved him more than anything in this entire world. No matter what, I loved him.

“I made a promise that day.” I kept staring at Elijah. “When Julio shot him, I made a promise that no matter what, I would take care of him, and love him every day of my life if God would spare him and not let him die.” I looked at Saint, who sat silently next to me. “I made a promise.”

Saint’s chest visibly rose and fell as he took a deep breath. “You didn’t know the extent of his condition.”

“It doesn’t matter. There are no exclusions when it comes to a promise like that, Saint.”

“No one will blame you if you leave, Charlotte. In fact, if you asked my opinion, I’d say leave. Go live your life.”

“I’m not asking your opinion.”

“Still, it’s a tough decision. You need to do what’s right for you.”

“He’sright for me. Being with him is right for me.”

Elijah stirred, and I shot to my feet, rushing to his side. “Elijah?”

He moaned. “Charlotte?”

“Yes. It’s me.” I choked on a sob, tears stinging my eyes. “I’m here.”

I took his hand and weaved my fingers through his. “How are you feeling?”

---