Chapter 4
“It’s nothing. Jamie just had to run–work stuff,” Marissa said softly, lowering her gaze to avoid Declan’s probing eyes.
Jamie hesitated, glancing back at her with a flash of worry–but didn’t expose her. Instead, she shot
Declan a sharp glare.
“Call me if you need anything, Marissa. Anything.”
Once the door clicked shut behind her, Declan stepped up to the bedside, a hint of guilt in his voice. “There were so many people that day… I didn’t see you fall.”
“It’s fine,” Marissa cut him off quietly, reaching for the glass of water on the nightstand.
As she shifted, the neckline of her hospital gown slipped slightly, revealing the raw, angry burns
just below her collarbone.
Declan’s expression darkened instantly. “What the hell-? They told me it was just smoke
inhalation.”
Marissa glanced down at her injury, then calmly adjusted her gown. “It’s not a big deal.”
His brows drew tight. “I didn’t know it was this bad. I thought you just passed out from the
smoke…”
She let out a dry breath. Of course he didn’t know.
How could he?
When his eyes never left Celeste?
Marissa said nothing, only took a sip of water.
“I’ll take care of you for the next few days,” Declan offered suddenly.
“That’s not necessary,” she replied, shaking her head. “You’ve got work to deal with. Don’t worry
about me.”
He opened his mouth to argue–but his phone rang.
“Declan…” Celeste’s voice leaked through the speaker, soft and weepy. “My hand… it hurts so much. The doctor said it might be infected…”
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Declan hesitated, torn.
Marissa looked at him, lips curling into the faintest smile. “Go ahead.”
“I…” He hesitated again, still holding the phone. “I’m not really great at this kind of thing anyway. I’ll arrange for a private nurse to help you.”
She nodded. “Okay.”
He was gone within seconds.
And the room fell into silence again.
Marissa stared up at the ceiling–and laughed.
122
He said he’d take care of her. And yet, at the first sound of Celeste’s tears, he ran.
Just like that day in the fire.
He didn’t even glance back.
She slowly closed her eyes. Her chest ached so sharply she could barely breathe.
Some promises… were never meant to be believed.
On the day of her discharge, Declan showed up in person to pick her up.
“There’s a charity auction tonight,” he said, handing her a brand new cashmere coat. “You’re coming with me.”
Marissa instinctively shook her head. “You don’t have to-”
“Still mad?” he asked, frowning slightly. “I told you, I didn’t see you fall. The moment I realized you were missing, I sent people back in to find you.”
She opened her mouth, then closed it. In the end, she simply took the coat in silence.
It wasn’t until she slid into the car that she noticed someone else already in the front seat.
Celeste.
“She wanted to come too,” Declan said casually, like it was the most normal thing in the world.
Marissa said nothing. She sat quietly in the back, watching the city blur by outside the window like she wasn’t even part of the picture.
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On the drive there, Celeste chattered nonstop–stories from their childhood, funny little memories from her time abroad. Declan didn’t say much, but he responded to every word with a quiet ease that made Marissa’s chest tighten.
At the auction, the three of them entered together.
Celeste clung to Declan’s arm like she belonged there.
Every item she so much as glanced at, he bid on. Without hesitation.
His over–the–top generosity quickly drew attention.
“Isn’t that Declan Hawthorne? He’s really spoiling his date tonight.”
“Must be the girlfriend who stayed with him through his recovery. I heard she took care of him for
years.”
“No, that doesn’t look like her… isn’t that the ex who dumped him before his accident?”
The murmurs reached Declan’s ears. He paused for a second–then turned to Marissa, like something just occurred to him.
“What do you want? I’ll get it for you.”
Right then, the auctioneer presented a stunning sapphire necklace. Under the lights, it gleamed like
ocean tides at midnight.
Marissa’s eyes lingered on it–just for a second too long.
Declan raised his paddle immediately. “Ten million.”
The crowd gasped.
“This necklace has quite a story,” Celeste suddenly chimed in, her voice sweet and lilting. “It was once a gift from a European king to his queen. Symbolizes loyalty. Everlasting love.”
She gave Marissa a long, knowing look. “Seems like a perfect gift for Marissa.”
Declan’s hand stilled for a beat.
When the necklace was finally brought over, he didn’t hesitate.
He handed it straight to Celeste.
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“This suits you more.”
Celeste blinked, pretending to protest. “Wait… wasn’t that the one Marissa liked?”
“I’ll get her something else,” Declan said, turning to Marissa. “What do you want?”
She looked down, lips tugging into a soft, self–deprecating smile–so painfully aware that he couldn’t offer her the symbol of loyalty and forever, yet gave it to Celeste without a second thought, the cruelly clear difference between love and mere obligation.
“I don’t need anything,” she said quietly.
