Chapter 110
ISABELLA
I never thought Levi would be the one supporting me. That we would ever get to a point where he’d be the one calming me down in a crisis. I never had imagined I’d even see him again, let alone stand this close to him—close enough to feel the quiet steadiness of his presence, like an anchor in the middle of a storm. Not after everything that had happened. Not after his father tried to tear us apart.
It just felt… unreal. Like my brain couldn’t fully catch up to the reality unfolding around me.
There he was. And there I was. And for some reason, he hadn’t left.
He was back to me. First as my master, then as something close to a lover.
I was still trying to make sense of it all—still trying to slow the spin of the world around me—when the doctor stepped back into the waiting room. Petite and pale.
She had kind eyes—warm, gentle, the kind you’d want to see when your world is on the brink of falling apart. Her tone was calm, steady, but there was something in the way her lips pressed together that made my stomach twist tighter.
“You can see him now,” she said, addressing our small group. “He’s conscious, but he won’t be discharged tonight. We’re monitoring him closely for a concussion. He was struck hard on the head, and it’s likely he won’t be able to speak much, if at all. Please—” she paused to look us over, “—keep your voices down. Let him rest.”
Relief hit me like a soft wave at first, then retreated, leaving raw, frayed nerves behind. Conscious. Alive. Breathing.
I clenched my hands in front of me to stop them from shaking. My mouth opened to thank her, but she was already glancing around.
“Who is his guardian?”
I stepped forward before anyone else could. “I am.”
She nodded. “Please come see me after your visit.”
“Oh. Okay. Thank you, Doctor,” I said, barely recognizing my own voice. It came out thinner than I intended, trailing behind her as she turned away.
She gestured to a young nurse standing off to the side. “This is James. He’ll take you to his room.”
James gave us a polite nod, his badge crooked on his chest and his smile kind. “Follow me, please.”
The hallway stretched ahead of us, hushed and clinical. The fluorescent lights above buzzed faintly. The air smelled like antiseptic and fresh flowers. My heels echoed with every step, but it was Caroline’s warm hand suddenly slipping into mine that grounded me.
I squeezed her back, too afraid to speak. I couldn’t trust myself not to cry. Every room we passed had someone looking at me, which had me wondering—until I remembered I was in this damn dress.
I ignored the discomfort as we walked in a tense silence, Levi falling in beside me like a shadow, protective and quiet. Lilian and Sam trailed close behind. I could feel the weight of all their worry pressing on my spine.
When we finally reached Matt’s room—almost at the end of the large hallway—James paused, glanced back at us, then gently pushed the door open.
“Just a few minutes,” he said.
The room was dim, lit only by the soft glow of a wall-mounted lamp and the blinking lights of the monitors beside the bed. The smell of rubbing alcohol lingered in the air. My heart clenched when I saw him.
Matt looked so small.
Pale. Still. A fresh bandage was wrapped around his head, with splotches of dried blood where the wound had bled through. One of his eyes was swollen nearly shut, the surrounding skin an angry purple. His lips were split and bruised, and his arm had a cannula taped to it.
He blinked slowly when we entered—then his lips twitched into the faintest smile.
My throat tightened. I rushed forward, instinctively reaching to hug him.
“Wait—please,” James said quickly, stepping in to stop me. “He’s not ready for that yet.”
I froze, inches from the bed, and instead let my eyes travel over every detail of him. His chest rose and fell in shallow breaths. His fingers twitched slightly beneath the blanket.
He was in pain. That much was obvious.
I wanted to sob and scream at the same time.
Lilian moved to his left side, Caroline to his right. They each reached for his hand like they were afraid he’d vanish if they didn’t hold on tight enough.
“Matt…” My voice cracked as I knelt beside the bed. “Matt, it’s me. We’re here. You’re okay. You’re safe.”
His eyes shifted toward me, glassy and slow. He opened his mouth like he wanted to speak—but only a strained breath came out. He winced, his jaw tightening in pain.
“Don’t talk, Matt… Just rest. We’ve got you.” I stroked his wrist gently with my thumb.
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