Chapter 449

Chapter 449:

“Eliza is in 402 — stable, but on bed rest,” Kane said, his voice tight. “The Boss is still in the OR. The knife in his back missed his spine by an inch, but it tore through muscle and caused severe internal bleeding near his lung p>

Azalea’s legs gave out. Kane caught her before she hit the floor.

“This is all my fault,” Azalea sobbed into his chest. “I should have told her sooner. I should have made him stop this stupid game p>

Inside the room, Eliza felt the sedative beginning to take hold. Her limbs grew heavy, as though they were made of lead.

The door opened, and Azalea crept in, her eyes red and swollen.

“He’s out of surgery,” Azalea whispered, sitting on the edge of the bed.

𝘛𝘩𝗼𝘶sаn𝘥ѕ 𝗈𝗳 𝘳𝗲а𝗱𝖾r𝘀 o𝘯 ѕ.𝖼𝗼𝗺

“Is he p>

“He’s alive. He’s in the ICU on the fourth floor. But Eliza — he’s refusing to see you. He told the nurses that as soon as he’s stable enough to travel, he’s going back to New York. Alone p>

Eliza felt a coldness spread through her chest that had nothing to do with the hospital air.

“He thinks I’ll hate him,” Eliza said, her voice flat. “Because of what Yvonne said p>

“He’s a Koch,” Azalea said, a bitter laugh escaping her. “We’re raised to believe that if we aren’t perfect, we’re nothing. He’d rather you remember the man in the suit than see the man in the wheelchair p>

Eliza looked at her.

“He’s not going back to New York alone,” Eliza said, her eyes flashing with sudden, fierce resolve. “If he thinks he can bleed for me and then just disappear, he’s got another thing coming p>

The morning sun was a pale, sickly yellow as it filtered through the hospital blinds. Eliza sat up in bed, her muscles aching from the forced stillness of the night.

She felt different. The fear that had paralyzed her in the park had crystallized into a cold, hard anger.

She reached for the bedside table and grabbed the folder Azalea had left there — a copy of Dallas’s latest medical summary, the one Yvonne had been wielding as a weapon.

Permanent nerve damage. Chronic pain syndrome. Probable infertility.

Eliza traced the words with her thumb. She thought about the night in the limousine, the way he had held her as though she were made of glass. She thought about the way he had pushed her away afterward — the cruelty in his voice that she now understood was nothing more than a mask for his own agony.

“You’re awake p>

Serena walked in carrying a bouquet of bright yellow sunflowers. She looked out of place in the sterile room, her sharp business suit a reminder of the world outside.

“New York is a war zone,” Serena said, setting the flowers down. “Jeannine has the board in a chokehold. The Nortons are being liquidated. But Dallas — Dallas is the problem p>

“He won’t see me,” Eliza said.