Ariana’s POV

One month later...

The room was too quiet. The only sound was the steady beep of the machine. The only movement was the slow rise and fall of his chest.

Dante’s chest.

I sat beside his bed, my hand wrapped around his.

His skin was cold and pale, and he looked so small in that hospital bed.

The strong, powerful Dante Russo is now lying there, his face peaceful, his eyes closed, his body covered in tubes and wires.

One month.

Thirty days.

Seven hundred and twenty hours.

I had sat here for almost every single one of them, holding his hand. I had talked to him. I had begged him to wake up, and every day, the machine beeped the same steady rhythm.

I looked at his face. The bruises were fading now, and the cuts were healing, but the machines were still there. The tubes were still there. The doctors still came every day with the same worried expressions and the same careful words. "We’re doing everything we can. It’s up to him now. He needs to wake up on his own."

I squeezed his hand.

No response.

There was never a response.

The guilt was crushing me every day; it sat on my chest, heavier than the day before.

I couldn’t breathe.

I couldn’t eat.

I couldn’t sleep.

Every time I closed my eyes, I saw his face, the way he looked at me when he threw the papers on the table.

The hurt.

The betrayal.

The disbelief.

Please tell me this is a misunderstanding. Please tell me someone forced you.

And I couldn’t answer.

I couldn’t tell him the truth.

I couldn’t tell him that I had been scared.

That I had been stupid.

That I had trusted Melissa when I should have trusted him.

Tears slid down my cheeks, and I didn’t wipe them away. There was no point cause thy never stopped.

They were always there waiting to fall.

"I’m sorry," I whispered with a hoarse voice. I had been talking to him for hours, days, and weeks. I didn’t know if he could hear me. I didn’t know if any of it mattered, but I couldn’t stop. "I’m so sorry, Dante. This is all my fault, all of it. If I hadn’t signed those papers. If I hadn’t been so scared, if I had just come to you and told you the truth. You wouldn’t have left. You wouldn’t have been driving so fast. You wouldn’t have—"

I stopped.

The words caught in my throat.

I couldn’t say it.

I couldn’t say the words that haunted me every second of every day.

You wouldn’t be here.

You wouldn’t be lying in this bed. You wouldn’t be dying because of me.

Melissa.

Her face flashed in my mind. Her smile. Her laugh. The way she said, "You don’t have a choice." I had believed her.

I had trusted her and had signed those papers because she promised Dante would never find out.

She promised that if I did what she wanted, she would disappear.

She would leave us alone.

She would never tell Dante about Asher.

She lied, of course, she lied.

She was Melissa.

Lying was what she did, and she had played me, and I had let her. I had been so scared of losing Asher, of losing Dante, of losing everything, that I had walked right into her trap.

And now Dante was here. Lying in a hospital bed, fighting for his life because of me.

I put my head down on the bed, my forehead resting against his arm.

I closed my eyes as the tears kept coming.

They soaked into the white sheets.

"I was so scared," I whispered. "You have to believe me. I was so scared of losing you. Of losing Asher, of losing our family. I couldn’t let her put that poison in your head. So I signed the papers. I signed them because I thought I was protecting our son. I thought I was protecting us."

I lifted my head, looking at his face.

"But I was wrong, I was so wrong. I should have told you. I should have come to you and told you everything. You would have known what to do. You always know what to do, but I was scared. I was so scared of losing you and now—" My voice broke. I couldn’t finish.

I reached out and touched his face. My cheek was cool under my fingers. His jaw was rough with stubble.

The nurses shaved him every few days, but it always grew back.

"Please wake up," I whispered. "Please, Dante. I can’t do this without you. The kids need you, I need you."

I wiped my face with my sleeve.

The tears wouldn’t stop.

"I need you to wake up so I can tell you everything. So I can tell you about the papers about Melissa, about how sorry I am. So I can tell you—" I stopped. Swallowed. "So I can tell you about Asher... even though it’ll hurt."

I squeezed his hand again.

Nothing.

No movement.

No response.

The door opened.

I jerked back, wiping my face quickly with my hands.

My heart was pounding.

I turned.

Marcus walked in, his face was tired. He had been here almost as much as I had.

Every day.

Every night.

Sitting with me and bringing me coffee, making sure I ate.

Making sure I slept.

He was a good friend.

The best.

He stopped when he saw me. His eyes softened. "Ariana. You’re still here."

I stood up, and my legs were shaky. I hadn’t moved in hours. "I’m always here."

"I know." He walked over to the bed. Looked at Dante. The same look he gave him every day. Hope and fear mixed together. "Any change?"

I shook my head. "No. The same."

"Ariana," he said finally. "We need to talk."

My stomach dropped. "About what?"