Sweet Hatred-Chapter 479: Hospital

The words echoed in my head, distorted and meaningless.

Your father is awake.

I stood there, phone pressed to my ear, staring at nothing. Around me, the crime scene continued its choreographed chaos, forensics teams moving in and out of the building, investigators taking measurements, Hayes barking orders into his radio.

But I couldn’t process any of it.

My father was awake.

After weeks in a coma. After the crash that should have killed him. After I’d stood over his hospital bed, refusing to let them pull the plug even when every doctor told me there was no hope.

He was awake.

And all I could think about was Aria.

"Mr. Roman?" Dr. Martinez’s voice pulled me back. "Did you hear me? Your father is conscious and asking for you."

"I..." My throat felt tight. "I can’t. Not right now."

"Sir, I understand you’re busy, but he’s been asking for you repeatedly."

"I said I can’t." The words came out harsher than intended. "My fiancée is missing. Someone kidnapped her. I need to find her."

A pause on the other end. "I... I’m very sorry to hear that. But—"

"Will have to wait."

I ended the call before he could respond.

The phone felt heavy in my hand. Or maybe that was just the weight of everything crushing down on me at once.

My father was awake.

My brother had kidnapped Aria.

Sarah was dead on a hallway floor three stories above me.

And I was standing here, paralyzed, unable to do a goddamn thing about any of it.

"Kael."

I turned. Ash stood a few feet away, her expression carefully neutral. But I could see the concern in her eyes.

"What is it?" she asked quietly.

I opened my mouth. Closed it. The words stuck in my throat.

"My father’s awake," I finally managed.

Her eyes widened slightly. "That’s... that’s good news, isn’t it?"

"I don’t know." I laughed, a bitter, hollow sound. "I don’t know what the fuck it is. All I know is Aria is out there somewhere, and I’m standing here—"

"You should go."

"What?"

Ash stepped closer, her voice firm but gentle. "Go see your father. Sylas and I will keep coordinating the search. We’ve got teams tracking the van, checking every possible location. You standing here watching forensics dust for prints isn’t going to bring her back faster."

"I can’t just leave, "

"You’re not leaving. You’re following a lead." She held my gaze. "Think about it, Kael. Your father just woke up. Andrew is his son, well, the son he raised. If anyone might know where Andrew would go, where he’d hide, it’s Ewan."

The logic cut through my panic.

She was right.

Ewan might have information. Might know something about Andrew’s contacts, his resources, the places he’d feel safe.

It was a long shot.

But it was more than I had right now.

"Okay." I nodded, already moving toward my vehicle. "Call me the second you have anything. Anything at all."

"I will. Now go."

The drive to the hospital took thirty minutes.

Thirty minutes of my mind racing through every possible scenario.

What if Ewan didn’t know anything?

What if he did know something, but refused to tell me?

What if Andrew had already hurt Aria?

What if,

I cut off that thought before it could fully form. I couldn’t go there. Couldn’t let myself imagine what Andrew might be doing to her.

Focus on what I could control.

Find information. Use it. Get her back.

The hospital’s parking garage was nearly empty at this hour. I pulled into a space near the elevator, not bothering to straighten out, and headed inside.

The fluorescent lights felt too bright after hours in the darkness. Everything here was sterile and cold, the opposite of the warmth I’d felt with Aria just days ago.

Days.

It had only been days since we’d been snowed in together, cooking breakfast and making love on the kitchen counter. Since we’d looked at houses and planned our future.

Since she’d told me she was pregnant.

My hand went to my pocket, fingers closing around her broken necklace.

I was going to get her back.

Whatever it took.

The ICU ward was quiet, most of the rooms dark except for the glow of monitors. A nurse looked up as I approached, recognition flashing across her face.

"Mr. Roman. Your father is in room 347. Dr. Martinez said you’d be coming."

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak, and headed down the hallway.

Room 347.

The door was partially open, soft light spilling into the corridor.

I stopped just outside, my hand on the doorframe.

This was it.

After weeks of watching him lie motionless, machines breathing for him, not knowing if he’d ever open his eyes again,

I stepped inside.

The first thing I noticed was how small he looked.

Ewan Roman had always been a larger-than-life presence. Commanding. Powerful. The kind of man who walked into a room and everyone else instinctively deferred to him.

But lying in that hospital bed, still hooked up to machines, still weak from the crash and the coma, he looked diminished. Fragile.

Human.

His eyes found mine immediately.

"You’re here," he said. His voice was rough, unused, but alert. Aware.

I moved closer, hands in my pockets, keeping my expression carefully blank.

"Good to see you’re not dead yet."

A smile tugged at his lips, that familiar, knowing smile that had infuriated me my entire life.

"Takes more than a plane crash to kill me, apparently." He shifted slightly, wincing. "Though it came damn close."

Silence settled between us.

I didn’t know what to say. Didn’t know what I was supposed to feel.

Relief that he was alive?

Anger at everything he’d done?

Both?

"You should have just let me go," Ewan said quietly.

I looked at him. "What?"

"The doctor told me." His gaze held mine. "Told me you refused to pull the plug. Multiple times. Even when they said I wouldn’t wake up. That my brain activity was minimal. That I was essentially gone."

"You weren’t gone."

"But I could have been." He took a careful breath, the machines around him beeping softly. "You could have ended it. Should have ended it. Why didn’t you?"

The question hung in the air.

Why hadn’t I?

It would have been easier. God knows part of me had wanted to. Wanted to be done with him, done with the years of being overlooked and dismissed and treated like I didn’t matter.

But I couldn’t.

"I couldn’t just give up on you," I said finally.

Ewan’s expression softened.

"Besides," I continued, my voice hardening, "I need you to suffer for what you’ve done. Death would be too easy for you."

His smile faded.

"You have to live with your decisions," I said. "Live with the knowledge that you destroyed your family. That you chose pride and appearances over your own son. That you let Sabrina manipulate you for decades while your actual child watched from the sidelines."

Each word was a blade, and I could see them landing.

Good.

"I’m sorry, son."

The words were so quiet I almost didn’t hear them.

I stared at him, searching his face for any sign of manipulation, of strategy.

But all I saw was an old man, broken, tired, and genuinely regretful.

"That’s all I can say," Ewan continued, his voice cracking slightly. "I’m sorry. For everything. For not seeing you. For not fighting for you. For letting myself poison everything good in our lives."

His eyes were glassy now, tears threatening to spill over.

"I was a terrible father. And I don’t expect you to forgive me. I just... I needed you to know that I know. That I see it now. And I’m sorry."

Something twisted in my chest.

I’d wanted this for so long. Wanted him to acknowledge what he’d done. Wanted him to see me, really see me, and understand the damage he’d caused.

And now that I had it,

It didn’t feel like I’d thought it would.

It didn’t fix anything.

Didn’t undo the years of neglect.

Didn’t make the pain disappear.

But it was something.

I took a breath, forcing down the emotions threatening to surface.

"How long have you decided?" I asked.

Ewan blinked, confused by the sudden shift. "Decided what?"

"The will. About giving me everything. About cutting Andrew and Sabrina out completely."

Understanding dawned in his eyes.

"Since I saw the DNA test."

The words hit like a physical blow.

"Andrew isn’t my son," Ewan continued. "Sabrina lied to me. For over thirty years, she lied. Made me believe I had a responsibility to him, that I owed him my legacy. But he was never mine."

I felt a bitter laugh building in my chest.

"So that’s what it took." The words came out colder than I’d intended. "It took you getting fooled by a woman to finally acknowledge you had a son who actually cared."

Ewan flinched as if I’d struck him.

He opened his mouth, then closed it.

What could he say?

It was the truth.

He’d spent my entire life treating Andrew like the golden child, grooming him to take over the company, while I’d been the afterthought. The disappointment. The son who’d chosen the military over the family business.

And now, only now, when he’d discovered that Andrew wasn’t actually his blood, only now did he decide I was worth his legacy.

"You’re right," Ewan said quietly. "You’re absolutely right. And I hate that it took that to make me see clearly. But it did. And I can’t change that now."

I turned away, unable to look at him anymore.

"Just recover," I said, heading for the door.

"Kael, wait."

Something in his tone made me stop.

When I looked back, Ewan was reaching for something on the bedside table, a manila folder.

"I heard what happened to Aria," he said.