Dark Revenge Of A Jilted Bride: Till Life Do Us Part!-Chapter 92: Truce?

Zane had been standing for so long that the chair behind him felt like an accusation.

When Athena and the others stepped out of the inner room into the quieter outer space, he straightened immediately, nerves snapping tight beneath his skin. His gaze flicked over their faces, searching for answers before his mouth could catch up.

"How is she?" he asked, the words coming out rougher than intended. "Her injuries—"

Athena sighed, the sound tired, weighted. "Gianna is fine."

Relief hit him so hard it nearly buckled his knees.

"And," Athena added, almost casually, "she wants to see you."

What?

Zane stared at her, genuinely stunned. He hadn’t expected that. Hadn’t planned for it. Hell, he hadn’t even hoped for it.

Showing up every day, hovering on the edge of the hospital like a ghost, had been his limit. Make sure she was breathing. Make sure she was safe. Then leave and handle the fire swallowing his company whole.

His assistant’s voice echoed in his head—shareholders are rebelling, sir... emergency meetings... Whitman Jewels stock has dropped another point...

"I didn’t say I wanted to see her," he said slowly, eyes narrowing on Athena. "Why would you tell her that?"

Athena shrugged, utterly unbothered. "I didn’t throw you under the bus, Whitman. I only told her you were outside. She made the decision herself."

That felt worse somehow.

She stepped aside, already turning away. "Go in," she said. "I’m going to speak with Doctor Kent."

And just like that, she left him there.

Zane inhaled deeply, then let it out in a controlled exhale, aware—too aware—of Chelsea and Areso’s eyes on him. The silence stretched.

"That bad?" Areso finally asked, brows lifting.

Zane gave a curt nod. "Worse."

He blew out another breath, squared his shoulders, and walked toward the door.

Inside the room, everything stopped.

His fists clenched at his sides as his gaze locked onto her.

Gianna lay propped against white pillows, smaller than he remembered, her skin too pale against the sterile backdrop. Bruises bloomed darkly along her cheekbones. A thin cut split her lower lip. Her cheeks looked hollow, as if something vital had been siphoned out of her. 𝘧𝑟𝑒𝑒𝘸𝘦𝘣𝑛𝑜𝘷𝑒𝓁.𝘤𝘰𝓂

Rage surged, hot.

When he found whoever was behind this—behind the staged emblem, the attack on her life, the calculated attempt to burn his name into the wreckage—he would make it slow.

No mercy. No quick death. He would carve the lesson into them piece by piece.

"Are you so pleased with my state that you’re speechless?" Gianna asked coolly.

Her voice sliced cleanly through his thoughts.

Zane exhaled, grounding himself, then stepped forward and sat on the edge of the bed. He didn’t miss the way she frowned immediately, tension tightening her shoulders at the sudden closeness.

He didn’t care. Not right now.

Not when the image of her broken at the crash site still haunted him. Not when something inside him had cracked open the moment Athena’s voice had carried the words she’s hurt.

Hate had fractured then. Splintered into something messier. Something far more dangerous.

It hadn’t been hatred that drove him that day, five years ago, he had realized—not fully. It had been hurt.

Spider had been right, damn him. There were feelings here, buried and ugly and unresolved.

So what if she was a golddigger? He had gold in excess.

"Gianna," he said quietly. "How are you doing? Any pain anywhere?"

She studied him for a moment, as if reassessing an equation she thought she already understood. Then she shook her head. "I’m better."

He searched her face, eyes catching on every mark, every shadow.

Before he could speak again, she cut in. "I’m sorry about your company."

The words startled him.

He blinked. "You are?"

She shrugged faintly. "You’re taking hits you shouldn’t be."

Understanding dawned slowly. "You believe I’m not behind it."

"Of course," she said, like it was obvious. "As much as we hate each other, there’s a limit to your foolishness."

A sound escaped him before he could stop it—a short, surprised chuckle.

And just like that, her expression hardened. The truce evaporated.

"Don’t laugh," she snapped. "And don’t sit there looking at me like this means something."

He sobered instantly, amusement draining from his face. "Gianna—"

"Leave," she said sharply, suddenly.

The word hit him harder than any accusation.

He froze, staring at her. "What?"

"I said leave." Her jaw tightened. "I don’t need this. Not now."

Silence settled between them, brittle.

But Zane didn’t move.

It made the silence stretch, taut and uncomfortable, and it only sharpened Gianna’s irritation when she realized his eyes were still on her like he hadn’t just been dismissed.

Her fingers curled into the sheets. "Why are you still here?"

He hesitated, then slowly tucked his hands into his pockets, the gesture casual but anything but. Instead of leaving when he stood up, he crossed the short distance to the chair by her bedside and sat.

Gianna’s jaw clenched. Regret bloomed immediately. She should never have agreed to see him.

"What do you want, Zane?" she asked, voice thin with restraint.

He leaned back slightly, gaze never leaving her face. "I’m not sure," he admitted. "But seeing you like that—"

He paused, eyes flicking briefly to the bruises, the bandage, the fragile way she was propped up. "Seeing you almost dead... it shifted something."

She was already shaking her head.

"Don’t," she said flatly. "Don’t take this for anything it’s not. I feel bad for your company. That’s it. I’ll make a statement. I’ll get Arthur to rebuff the rumors. I won’t let a lie destroy what you’ve built."

Her eyes sharpened. "But don’t start down whatever path you think this is."

He watched her for a long second, then spoke again—like she hadn’t said a word.

"Seeing you lying there, cracked something within me."

Her lips parted on instinct, a retort already forming—but she stopped herself. Closed her mouth.

Fine. Let him talk. Let him spill whatever rubbish he needed to get out of his system.

"I don’t want this war anymore," Zane continued, restless now, shifting in the chair. "I want us to be... civil."

Gianna let out a short, incredulous laugh. "We already are."

"No," he countered immediately. "We’re polite. That’s not the same thing."

She frowned. "What exactly do you want from me?"

"Peace," he said. "Some kind of truce."

She scoffed, the sound brittle, not believing what she was hearing. "You want a truce now?"

"Yes."

Something inside her snapped.

"Oh, get out!" she shouted. "Get out of my room!"

Zane shot to his feet, frustration flashing hot across his face. "Why do you... You hurt me first!"

Gianna froze.

"Why do you act like you had no part to play in our breakup?" he demanded. "Like I woke up one day and decided to burn everything down?"

Her eyes stung before she could stop it. Wetness blurred her vision, humiliation and anger twisting tight in her chest.

"Get out!" she screamed, voice breaking. "Get out!"

The door opened abruptly.

Chelsea poked her head in, brows knitted tight as she took in the scene—the tension, the way Gianna was shaking.

Her gaze flicked to Zane, then back to Gianna.

"Noah is here," she said quietly.