“Aiden is stable.
Savannah is critical, but she made it through surgery.”
Emily closed her eyes as tears slipped into her hair.
“Can I see them?”
“As soon as the doctors allow it.”
Emily’s gaze moved weakly around the room.
“Is he here?”
Nicole knew exactly whom she meant.
“Yes.”
Emily’s face tightened, not with longing but with exhaustion.
“Did he bring her?”
“She came on her own.
She’s gone now.”
Claire entered quietly and stood near the foot of the bed.
“Your filings were served,” she said.
“The trust notices were delivered, and the company board has acknowledged the review.
Nothing requires your attention tonight.”
Emily breathed out slowly.
“Good.”
Nicole brushed hair from her forehead.
“Michael wants to see you.”
Emily looked toward the dark window.
For months, she had imagined confronting him.
In some versions, she screamed.
In others, he fell to his knees and confessed everything.
But lying in the hospital with stitches across her abdomen and her daughter fighting for breath, Emily felt no hunger for revenge.
She wanted only clarity.
“Five minutes,” she said.
“You stay.”
Michael entered without his wet coat.
He looked older than he had the day before.
His shirt was wrinkled, his eyes swollen, and the arrogance that had once filled every room was gone.
He stopped several feet from the bed.
“Emily.”
She studied him in silence.
“The babies are beautiful,” he said, his voice breaking.
“Savannah is so small, but she’s fighting.
Aiden has your mouth.”
Emily’s fingers tightened around Nicole’s hand.
“Why are you here?”
Michael flinched.
“Because you’re my wife.
Because they’re my children.
Because I made the worst mistake of my life.”
“An affair is not one mistake.”
“I know.”
“It was hundreds of choices.
Every message.
Every lie.
Every time you looked at me and asked whether the babies were kicking after leaving her hotel room.”
He covered his face.
“I was selfish.
I don’t have an excuse.”
“You had excuses every night.
Work.
