PART 2
Adrian Cross noticed the change in my face. His eyes narrowed slightly, not in suspicion, but in recognition. Perhaps he understood that a woman who had been left to disappear beneath the snow did not need to be told what betrayal meant. Perhaps he understood because betrayal had been written into his own life long before I was born.
“You need to rest,” he said.
His voice was low, carefully controlled, as if too much feeling might crack something open in him.
I turned my head against the pillow. The hospital room was dim except for the soft glow of monitors and the pale blue wash of snowlight against the window. Beyond the glass, Aspen was still buried under storm clouds. Somewhere out there, Victor was likely pouring champagne. Somewhere, Serena was likely pretending to mourn.
My hand moved to my stomach again.
“Is he really okay?” I whispered.
Adrian’s expression softened. “The doctors are cautiously optimistic. His heartbeat stabilized. They’re watching both of you closely.”
“Cautiously optimistic,” I repeated.
The words felt too small for the life inside me.
A nurse entered quietly and checked the monitors. She smiled at me with the careful gentleness medical workers use when they know you have survived something terrible but are not allowed to ask how.
“Your baby is strong,” she said. “So are you.”
I wanted to believe her.
When she left, I looked back at Adrian. “Victor can’t know.”
“He won’t.”
