Chapter 184- Telling Them The Truth
ARIANA'S POV
The waiting room felt suffocating, the air thick with anxiety. Hardin’s blood was still on my hands, staining my fingers and seeping into the edges of my soul. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw him collapsing, his body hitting the ground as blood poured from the wound.
I couldn’t sit still. My foot tapped nervously against the floor as my gaze darted between the clock on the wall and the double doors leading to the operating room. No one had come out yet, and every passing minute felt like another blow to my chest.
Ronny paced back and forth like a caged animal. “How much longer is this going to take?” he snapped. “It’s been hours!”
“Calm down,” Jess said, her voice trembling despite the calm façade she tried to maintain. “They’ll tell us something soon.”
Mark sat hunched over, his elbows on his knees, staring blankly at the floor. “What if he doesn’t make it?” he muttered, his voice barely audible.
I flinched at the words. “Don’t say that,” I said sharply. “He’s going to make it. He has to.”
Vera, seated beside me, reached out and squeezed my hand. “He will,” she said firmly. “Hardin’s a survivor. We’ve seen him fight through worse.”
Her words offered a sliver of hope, but the knot in my stomach didn’t ease. I glanced down at my hands, still stained with Hardin’s blood, and a fresh wave of nausea rolled over me.
Ronny stopped pacing and sat heavily in the chair across from me. “This shouldn’t have happened,” he said, his voice thick with guilt. “I should’ve acted faster. Maybe then—”
“Stop,” I cut him off. “This isn’t your fault. Garry pulled the trigger. Hardin did what he always does—he protected the people he loves.”
Ronny nodded, but the guilt didn’t leave his face.
Minutes ticked by in agonizing silence, broken only by the occasional sound of footsteps in the hallway or the muffled voices of nurses passing by. The tension in the room was unbearable, and I felt like I was going to explode if I didn’t say something.
“There’s something you all need to know,” I said finally, my voice breaking the silence.
Everyone turned to look at me. Ronny, Mark, Jess, and Vera—all of them were Hardin’s family in the ways that mattered most. They deserved to know the truth.
“What is it?” Vera asked gently.
I hesitated, unsure of how to begin. “Hardin has parents,” I said finally, the words tumbling out of me.
“What?” Ronny’s brows knitted together in confusion. “That doesn’t make any sense. We grew up together. He was an orphan, just like us.”
I shook my head. “He thought he was. But the truth is, he was taken from his parents when he was a child. His aunt separated him from them because he was the rightful heir to the Richards’ fortune. She wanted her children to take everything instead.”
The shock on their faces mirrored what I’d felt when I first learned the truth. Jess gasped, her hand flying to her mouth, while Mark’s jaw dropped. Vera’s expression was a mix of disbelief and anger.
“Wait,” Ronny said, leaning forward. “Are you saying his parents are alive?”
I nodded. “Yes. Hardin found out when he confronted his aunt to save me. She admitted everything to his face.”
“And you’re just telling us this now?” Vera’s tone was sharp, but I could see the concern behind her words.
“He only just found out himself,” I said. “And… there’s something else. His parents—they’re the Richards.”
The room fell silent.
“As in the Richards?” Mark finally said. “The Millers’ biggest rivals?”
I nodded. “Yes. And you all know what that means.”
Ronny let out a low whistle, running a hand through his hair. “This is insane.”
“It doesn’t matter who his parents are,” Vera said firmly. “Hardin’s still Hardin. He’s still our brother, and we’re not letting anyone take him away from us. Not the Millers, not the Richards—no one.”
Her words stirred something in me—a fierce determination to protect the man I loved, no matter what.
Before anyone could say more, the sound of footsteps echoed down the hallway. We all turned toward the doors, our hearts pounding in unison.
A doctor stepped into the waiting room, her face a mask of professionalism. She held a clipboard in her hands, her eyes scanning the room before settling on us.
“Are you all here for Hardin Richards?” she asked.
“Yes,” I said, my voice trembling as I stood.
She nodded. “I have an update on his condition.”
The room fell silent, the weight of her words pressing down on us.
“What is it?” Ronny asked, his voice tight with fear.
The doctor hesitated for a moment, her expression unreadable. Then she spoke.
But I couldn’t hear her words over the deafening roar of my own heartbeat.
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