Jade heard Dr. Newman's voice, but it felt distant. She didn't respond—she just listened... Robinson took the phone and answered for her.
They got into a taxi in complete silence. The blonde stared out the window, biting what little was left of her nails, while tears of anguish rolled down her cheeks.
Robinson placed a hand on her thigh and gave it a slight squeeze. She looked at him, and he offered her a small smile to try and comfort her.
Some time later, they arrived at the hospital. Jade jumped out of the cab the moment it stopped, leaving Robinson behind, just like last time.
She rushed to the elevator and waited anxiously for it to reach her floor. When the metallic doors opened, the blonde stepped out without waiting. Dr. Newman was just exiting her father's room, still in surgical scrubs and looking exhausted.
Her eyes welled up even more.
"Doctor…" she called out, trying not to think the worst.
"Jade," the older man looked at her with pity, "your father suffered another serious relapse. We had to operate on him urgently. We managed to stabilize him this time…"
"But if it happens again, it might be too late, right?" a tear fell, followed by many more.
"That's right. He urgently needs a heart. I managed to get him on the transplant waiting list, but it's not guaranteed. There are many people ahead of him. The best option is to find a donor by youry. And Jade... Lucas doesn't have time. Without a heart, it would take a miracle for him to make it through the month."
"Don't worry, doctor," Jade wiped away her tears. This wasn't the time to cry. "I'll do whatever it takes to get that money. I'll take out another loan if I have to, but I won't let my father die because of money."
"I'll keep doing everything in my power to prevent another relapse," he assured her. "I have to go now."
The doctor left, and she stood there, weighing the situation. She was screwed. She had no idea what she was going to do. She ran her hands through her hair, messing it up.
Robinson reached her and hugged her tightly when he saw her pained expression.
"Is he okay?" he asked.
"He had a relapse, but they were able to stabilize him." She pulled away. He wiped her cheeks and took her hand.
"Do you want something to eat?" he asked, but she shook her head.
"I just want to be with my father. Do you mind if I stay with him? I know we had plans…"
"Don't worry," he interrupted her with a smile. "This is more important. Go be with your dad. Do you want me to wait for you?"
"No. Go back to the hotel. Tomorrow is Sunday, and you're visiting your sister and your mom. I'll stay here tonight."
"Are you sure? I can stay, it's no problem at all…"
Jade shook her head.
"Go, Robinson. There's no need for you to stay. Remember, your mom needs your support too…" she smiled.
"Alright, only because you insist," he agreed, smiling back. He kissed her forehead, and she closed her eyes, savoring the sweet gesture. "Goodbye, Jade. I'll call you tomorrow to see how you're doing and how your dad is."
"I don't have my phone with me," she remembered, pinching the bridge of her nose. "I left it at home yesterday. I need to go get it as soon as I can."
"Alright. Then I'll come find you the night after tomorrow so you can update me. Bye," he kissed her cheek and left.
Jade went looking for Dr. Newman. She wanted to beg him to let her see her father. At first, he had refused, saying her father had just gotten out of surgery. But after her insistence, the old doctor finally gave in and allowed her in.
A nurse took her to get changed, and once she was ready—her heart pounding in her chest—she entered the room. Her heart broke at the sight of him, connected to so many wires, with a tube to help him breathe.
She pulled up a chair and sat beside him, gently taking his hand.
"Hi, Dad," she whispered, tasting her own tears. "I wish I could tell you so many things…" a small sob escaped her. "But I don't know how. I feel so alone sometimes, carrying so much, always pretending to smile so no one notices—pretending everything will be okay. But you're here, lying in this bed, and for the first time in a long time, I'm doubting my ability to help you get up again.
"But I'll try the impossible. You deserve it, Dad. I'm going to find a way to save you, and this will all just be a bad memory." She rested her head on the bed. "Very soon, you, Alicia, and I will be okay again. We'll go on vacation somewhere... Please, don't leave me alone. I wouldn't know how to live without you."
The girl poured her heart out, sharing her fears and opening up about all her worries. Even though she knew he was sedated, she wanted to believe he could hear her.
She kept talking for hours, telling her father to get better and promising to take care of everything else. She had no idea how, but she would find a thousand and one ways.
She fell asleep in the early hours of the morning, and it was a nurse—who had come to check her father's vitals—who eventually woke her up.
Around nine in the morning, she had to leave the hospital. She needed to return to the hotel to shower, request the next day off, talk to her friend, and do the math… She didn't have any cash on hand, nor a phone to call anyone, so she had to walk for over an hour to get back to the hotel. And when she did, she was exhausted, her feet ached, she was soaked in sweat, and terribly thirsty.
She entered her workplace and headed straight to her room. It was eleven a.m., and she only wanted one thing: to rest for a bit. She walked into the room and stripped off her clothes. She looked at herself in the mirror—her makeup was smudged, and her bruises were more visible. She sighed, feeling defeated.
She tied up her hair to shower, letting the water carry away her tears, her frustrations—everything that had recently overwhelmed her. When she finished, she stepped out naked, grabbed a towel, and gently dried herself off. She went to her small, old wardrobe, searched until she found clean underwear, put it on, and laid down to sleep.
[...]
3:54 p.m
She woke up startled, drenched in sweat from the terrible nightmare she'd had. Her cheeks were wet with tears. She got out of bed and checked the time on the small clock on the nightstand. She was surprised at how long she had slept.
Yawning, she walked into the bathroom for another shower. Once she was done, she changed and headed to Maximiliano's office. She knocked on the door, and within seconds, she was given permission to enter. She opened it and gave her friend a weak smile.
"Hi, how are you?" she asked, sitting across from him.
"Excellent, and you?"
"Surviving," she murmured.
Maximiliano smiled, but he frowned slightly upon noticing new bruises on her face.
"What happened to you?" he asked, resting his chin on his fists.
Jade took a deep breath—the memory of what had happened at her house left a bitter taste in her mouth.
"I thought Dominick told you," she said, closing her eyes.
"Dominick did this to you?" the brunette asked, alarmed.
Maximiliano didn't distrust his best friend, but when Dominick drank, he became someone else—a man to be feared.
"No, no," she quickly clarified. "Elías tried to…" she lowered her head and looked at her palms resting on her lap, "he tried to abuse me. Dominick showed up and saved me."
Her beautiful green eyes filled with tears. Maximiliano stood and rushed to hug her.
"Oh, Jade," he whispered, caressing her blonde hair. "I'm so sorry. That bastard— I hope Dominick beat the hell out of him. I wish I'd been there to defend you. But... are you okay?"
She nodded, still in his arms.
"I was so scared," she confessed. She hadn't had a chance to talk to her friend about everything that had happened. "I feared the worst."
"You're safe now," he assured her.
He pulled away and wiped the tears from her cheeks.
"I wanted to ask you for a favor," she murmured.
"Anything. Tell me."
"I have something tomorrow. I need at least the morning off, do you think that's possible…?" she asked.
"Of course, of course. Let me notify the head of HR. I'll have to do it today since I'm leaving for Aspen tomorrow. I'll be back in a few days—Armand will help me with work while I'm gone."
"I understand. I only came to ask you that. I have to find Nerea. Have you seen her?"
"No."
"Okay. I'll be going, then."
She said goodbye to her friend and took the elevator down to the lobby, looking for her friend. Instead, she spotted Armand, speaking with Etienne.
"The lovely Jade," the blond greeted her with a smile.
"Etienne, how are you?" she asked.
"Better, now that I've seen you," he said, with his usual flirtatious tone.
"You're always so flattering. And you, Armand, how are you?"
Unlike his cousin, the dark-haired man had remained silently studying her, analyzing every part of her face.
"Fine," he said simply. "Etienne, go speak to Maximiliano. Jade and I need to talk."
The blond frowned but nodded. He knew his cousin was an enigma, and trying to figure him out was a waste of time. He left.
"What do you want to talk about?" she asked.
"What happened to your face?" he replied with another question. "Those bruises are new."
She felt embarrassed to tell him the reason. Sure, she had told Maximiliano because he was like a brother and had known her for a long time. But things were different with Armand. Even though she considered him a friend, he barely knew anything about her.
"It's nothing important," she said, waving it off. "I think I have—"
"It's fine if you don't want to talk about it," he interrupted, "but please, don't lie to me. It makes me feel like you think I'm stupid. A simple 'I don't want to talk about it' would be enough, Jade. We're adults," he muttered, his expression stone-cold.
The blonde felt out of her comfort zone—Armand was a no-nonsense kind of man. Serious, direct, and never one to beat around the bush.
"I'm sorry… It's just that I feel… embarrassed," she admitted, looking away.
"You don't have to be. We're friends, aren't we?" His face gave nothing away—expressionless, cold, with a composure as solid as stone. "You seemed very proud the other day, telling me how you stood up to your sister. What changed? Was it someone else?"
Jade nodded.
"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked.
She nodded again.
For the first time since she'd known him, Armand offered her his hand. For her, that was an intimate gesture, but she reminded herself that they were just friends, and she doubted he'd be interested in someone like her. Not that she saw herself as less, but Armand didn't seem like the kind of man who went for women like her… simple.
His hand was large, but it felt warm—his touch was comforting. He gently pulled her along, and in silence, they headed outside. They crossed the street and entered a café.
He didn't let go of her hand until they were seated at a table. They sat down and ordered coffee.
"Tell me, what happened?" Armand stirred his coffee slowly with the spoon.
He looked expectant.
Jade began telling him everything that had happened at her house, holding back her tears for another time. Armand listened closely, his expression unreadable. He encouraged her to open up, to let out everything weighing on her… and she did.
She spoke of her family's precarious situation, her father's illness, and finally—though with a few details left out—she confessed everything she had lived through with Dominick since arriving. She made a superhuman effort not to cry, confessing that sometimes it felt like her strength was slipping away, that she couldn't go on. But the image of her father always came to mind and somehow, that kept her going.
Once she finished her story, she fell silent for a few moments.
"How do you feel, Jade?" Armand asked, watching her closely.
"Relieved…"