The silence in the car was loud.
Too loud.
I sat curled up in the passenger seat, knees drawn to my chest, still wearing silk pajamas and a broken heart. My hands trembled in my lap, clenching and unclenching as if the grief might bleed out of my fists if I let go for too long.
Sebastian didn't speak. He just drove.
His hands were steady on the wheel, but his knuckles were pale from the grip. His jaw clenched, his eyes locked on the road like if he focused hard enough, maybe this would all disappear. Maybe it was just a dream.
But it wasn't.
I turned my head slowly toward him. "No one else knows?"
He glanced at me, his face softening. "No. Not yet."
My throat burned. "Why?"
"Because your father was smart, Miss Aliana," he said gently. "He knew the second this news breaks, the sharks will start circling. Everyone will want a piece. Of the empire. Of you."
"I don't care," I whispered. "They can have it all. I just want him back."
His fingers twitched on the steering wheel.
"You're strong," he said quietly. "He always said that. Said you had more fire than most men he's ever met. He was proud of you."
I swallowed hard, blinking away the tears that wouldn't stop falling. "Then why did he keep pushing me away?"
Sebastian didn't answer.
The streets blurred outside the window. Everything looked so normal. A jogger. A coffee shop opening its doors. A woman walking her dog.
Didn't they know the world had ended?
Didn't they feel it?
I let my head fall back against the seat, biting my lip to hold back another sob. "We fought last night."
He glanced at me again.
"I told him I hated him. I screamed at him. He just sat there… said he was doing what needed to be done. I stormed out like a child. I didn't even say goodbye."
Sebastian's voice was low. "He knew you didn't mean it."
"But what if that's all he remembered?"
He pulled into the hospital's underground parking garage.
"I can't do this," I whispered, heart thundering. "I'm not ready."
"No one ever is," he said, cutting the engine. He turned to face me, his expression gentler than I'd ever seen it. "But he's waiting, Miss. This is the last time you'll see him. Don't let it be something you regret."
I wiped at my face, nodding, even though my body screamed in protest. Every bone in me ached with sorrow.
He walked beside me through the stark white corridors. It smelled like antiseptic and grief. Cold and sharp. Like death had walked these halls too many times.
"Only authorized access," the nurse said when we reached the private room.
Sebastian flashed his ID. "I'm his head of security. This is his daughter."
The nurse hesitated, then nodded solemnly. "Room 308."
I almost threw up.
Each step felt heavier than the last. Like walking through water. My breath came in short gasps, like my lungs couldn't expand with the grief pressing down on them.
When we reached the door, Sebastian paused.
"You sure?" he asked, his voice rough.
I nodded.
But I wasn't sure.
I'd never been more unsure of anything in my life.
Still, I pushed the door open.
And there he was.
My father.
James Rivera.
A king in a hospital bed, stripped of all his power, of all his command. He looked… smaller. Paler. So still it didn't feel real.
"Daddy…" I whispered.
I stumbled forward, my knees hitting the cold floor beside the bed.
"I'm here. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."
My hands shook as I reached for his. Cold. Too cold.
"I didn't mean it. I didn't mean any of it. I was just mad," I cried, pressing my forehead against his hand. "You're not allowed to leave me like this. Not like this."
Sebastian stepped back, giving me space. I heard the door quietly close behind him.
The room felt too empty.
I sobbed into the silence.
"I need you," I whispered. "I don't care about the empire. I don't care about being the heir. I just need my dad."
I stayed there, clutching his hand, long after my tears had soaked the thin hospital blanket. The world spun without him, and I wasn't ready for it.
Not now.
Not ever.
I didn't know how long I stayed like that.
The silence wasn't peaceful. It was deafening. A hollow, echoing kind that rang in your bones and reminded you that someone who used to fill up entire rooms with their presence was gone.
I stayed on the floor, knees aching, back curled, head buried in the blanket as if I could still catch a whiff of his cologne—the rich, earthy blend of sandalwood and something darker. Something him.
My fingers threaded with his—so cold, too cold. But I held on anyway.
I didn't cry anymore. I think I ran out of tears. Now it was just a gaping, aching emptiness sitting on my chest like a weight I couldn't throw off.
My eyes drifted to his face.
"Can I…?" I whispered to no one.
I reached out with trembling fingers and gently touched his cheek. It was stiff beneath my touch, but I didn't flinch. I needed to feel him. Needed to memorize every line of his face. The sharp jaw I'd inherited. The faint crease between his brows that always deepened when he was thinking. The little scar above his eyebrow from a knife fight when he was twenty-two, one he used to joke about like it wasn't born from something violent.
"You didn't even wait," I whispered, brushing his dark hair back. "I was gonna come back and apologize this morning. I was gonna tell you I'd marry whoever you wanted if it just meant we could fix things."
I swallowed hard.
"But you're not here now. And I don't know what the hell I'm supposed to do."
I leaned in and pressed a kiss to his temple. "I hope you knew. I hope you knew how much I loved you, even when I was screaming."
My hand slid down to his chest, where the sheet covered him. The fabric was clean, tucked tight, just like he liked things. Always neat. Always proper.
But then I saw it.
A thin line where the sheet had shifted, exposing a glimpse of his torso.
I froze.
Blood.
Dried—but not red.
It was… dark. Almost black. And thick.
My brows furrowed. Something inside me twisted, but my mind refused to connect the dots.
Not now. Not here. Not when I was barely breathing through this.
I looked away quickly, pressing my forehead back to his arm. Maybe it was the lighting. Maybe it was a trick of my grief.
I didn't care.
He was still gone.
A creak from behind me made my head snap up. I turned slowly to find Sebastian standing in the doorway. Not inside. Not speaking. Just… there. Watching me.
His face was unreadable, but his eyes—
God, his eyes looked like someone had ripped his soul out too.
For the first time since I'd known him, Sebastian didn't look composed. He looked… older. Tired. Like the world just became heavier on his shoulders.
I wiped my cheek with the back of my hand.
"You can come in," I croaked, my voice hoarse.
He hesitated, then stepped in slowly, careful not to disturb the silence too much.
I turned back to my father, brushing my fingers through his hair again. "He always said you were the most loyal person he ever met."
Sebastian didn't speak, but I felt him near.
"He trusted you more than anyone," I said softly, staring down at my father's lifeless face. "And I know he would've wanted you here now."
I laid my head on the edge of the bed, hand still in his, trying to burn this moment into my memory.
The sound of the heart monitor was long gone. All that remained was the soft hum of the air conditioning and the emptiness of goodbye.
"I'm not ready," I whispered.
Sebastian stepped closer, kneeling beside me. I felt his hand on my back, steady and warm.
"You don't have to be," he said, voice rough.
I stayed there for what felt like forever, waiting for the strength to say goodbye.
But it never came.
And still—I had to.