Chapter 27
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urgency.
Her breath hitched. “What about him?” Her eyes darted toward the wreckage behind them.
“We can’t just leave him.”
“I called the cops.” Tristan said, tightening his grip on her arm. “They’ll be here any minute, We have to move now, or we’re not getting out of here in one piece. Don’t you still want to see Brielle?”
Her daughter’s name cut through the haze clouding her mind like a whip. Sloan’s knees buckled, but Tristan steadied her, his arm firm around her waist as he pulled her toward the door.
Behind them, Carol screamed. A blur of movement, then Carol lunged for them, her face. twisted with rage.
Tristan reacted instantly. He turned and drove his foot into her chest with brutal force. Carol’s body snapped backward, hitting the ground with a sickening thud.
“Go!” Tristan’s voice was sharp as he tugged Sloan forward.
They sprinted down the road, feet pounding against the pavement. Their breath burned in their lungs, but they didn’t stop, didn’t look back.
Two hundred yards away, the sharp wail of police sirens split the night, closing in fast. Carol and her men were arrested on the spot. All three were charged and sentenced to death.
Wyatt survived – but barely. The attack left him permanently disabled. His legs were paralyzed and the damage to his liver from years of alcohol abuse and stress had already pushed his body to the brink. He emerged from surgery looking like he had aged twenty years overnight.
Sloan and Tristan stood outside Wyatt’s hospital room a few weeks later, but the doctor stopped them at the door.
“I’m sorry,” the doctor said. “Mr. Finley doesn’t want to see you. For the sake of his recovery, we can’t allow anything that might upset him.”
Tristan nodded. “That’s fine. Just… tell him we’re stopped by. We just want to thank him for what he did. He saved Sloan and for that, I won’t target the Finleys again. Oh – and this…” Tristan handed the doctor a small stuffed rabbit.
“Tell him it’s from Brielle. She’s grateful because he saved her mother.”
Sloan stood quietly beside him, her hand resting in Tristan’s. She didn’t say a word, letting him speak for them both.
—
–
Wyatt watched them through the narrow gap beneath the door, his breath shallow and unsteady. They walked away hand in hand Tristan’s arm wrapped protectively around Sloan’s waist their figures bathed in the soft glow of the hallway lights. They looked perfect together, a picture of happiness and strength. And he… he was nothing more than a ghost, a thief peering into a life he no longer had a right to.
His scarred fingers tightened around the small stuffed rabbit resting in his lap. His face
Chapter 28
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Tristan nodded. thats fine. Just tell him we te stopped by, we just want to thank him for what he did. He saved Sloan and for that, I won’t target the Finleys again. Oh and this…” Tristan handed the doctor a small stuffed rabbit.
“Tell him it’s from Brielle. She’s grateful because he saved her mother”
Sloan stood quietly beside him, her hand resting in Tristan’s. She didn’t say a word, letting him speak for them both.
Wyatt watched them through the narrow gap beneath the door, his breath shallow and unsteady. They walked away hand in hand – Tristan’s arm wrapped protectively around Sloan’s waist – their figures bathed in the soft glow of the hallway lights. They looked perfect together, a picture of happiness and strength. And he… he was nothing more than a ghost, a thief peering into a life he no longer had a right to.
His scarred fingers tightened around the small stuffed rabbit resting in his lap. His face was gaunt and pale, his arms marred with scars – ugly reminders of his broken body. His legs, useless beneath him, sat limp in the wheelchair. He couldn’t stand. He couldn’t even
walk toward her anymore.
How could someone as broken and hideous as him ever deserve someone as radiant as
Sloan?
A single tear slipped down his cheek and soaked into the plush fabric of the rabbit.
Epilog:
Months passed. Sloan rebuilt her life from the ground up, reclaiming her place in the world of fashion. She became one of the most sought–after designers in the country, her collections headlining every major runway.
One evening, Sloan stood on a grand stage in a stunning red gown, a soft smile lighting up her face. Cameras flashed and the audience held their breath as she stepped up to the mic. “I’d like to thank my late mother, my beautiful daughter and my incredible husband, who’s stood by me through everything – Tristan Grant.” The crowd erupted into applause as Tristan smiled back at her.
Half a world away, Wyatt lay in a hospital bed, his body thin and frail. A muted TV flickered above him, showing Sloan’s radiant face as she accepted her award.
A faint smile tugged at the corner of Wyatt’s lips. His hand brushed against the worn fur of the stuffed rabbit resting on his chest. His scarred fingers curled around it as his breathing slowed. His chest rose and fell once… then twice…
The heart monitor gave one last fragile beep before flattening into a single, endless tone. The rabbit slipped from his lifeless grasp and hit the cold floor with a soft thud.
