Genesis watched as Kieran's hand trembled on the car wheel and the way his jaw clenched tight. The tension in the car was so thick that it could be cut with a knife, it was so hard to even breathe well.
She looked at Donald from the rear view window and heart constricted at the pallour of his face. He was so pale that he looked like there was no flow of blood on his face and not just that, he looked so sick.
Then she turned back to Kieran and her hand itched to touch his and tell him that it would be fine but that would be a lie, they had just heard it from the doctor, he had a few months unless they….
Donald's voice cut through the heavy silence. "I'm not doing it."
Genesis's breath caught, her hands tightening in her lap.
Kieran's head snapped toward his father, his knuckles white on the steering wheel. "The hell you're not." His voice was low, lethal. "You're taking that treatment. You're fighting."
Donald leaned back in his seat, exhausted eyes closing. "And for what? To drag myself through agony? To spend my last days strapped to machines while my body rots? No, Kieran. I won't."
Kieran's voice broke, the steel cracking. "You think I give a damn about machines? About pain?" His chest heaved, his jaw clenched so tight it trembled. "I just need you alive. I'm not…" his voice caught, raw and unsteady, "..I'm not ready to bury you."
Donald turned his pale face toward him, quiet but firm. "It's not your choice. It's mine. And I want to spend whatever time I have left with my family. Not locked in a hospital fighting a battle I can't win."
The car filled with silence that screamed louder than any argument. Genesis's tears slid down her cheeks, her chest aching like it would split. First her father. And now Donald. Why was life so cruel to keep taking and taking?
The car rolled into the estate. No one spoke as Kieran slammed the brakes, cutting the engine. He was out first, shoulders stiff, storming through the doors like a man hunted by his own demons.
Genesis hurried after him, heart pounding. She found him in their bedroom, sitting at the edge of the bed, his elbows on his knees, face buried in his hands. His broad frame shook once—barely—but it was enough to shatter her.
"Kieran…" Her voice broke as she dropped to her knees in front of him. She reached out, gently pulling his hand from his face, and her breath hitched when she saw it—tears streaking his eyes.
Her steady, terrifying, untouchable husband. Crying.
Her hands cupped his face, thumbs brushing the wetness away. "Please don't," she whispered, her own tears falling. "Don't break like this. I'm here. I won't leave you. We'll be together through this… always."
Kieran's eyes locked on hers, wild and devastated all at once. "I can't lose him," he rasped. "Genesis, I can't…" His voice cracked, the words strangled, as if saying them made the fear real.
She pressed her forehead to his, their tears mingling. "You won't lose yourself either. Not to this. Not to fear. We'll face it together, no matter how much it hurts."
And for the first time, Knight Blackwood—the ruthless man who ruled empires—leaned into his wife's arms, breaking, shattering, allowing her to hold the pieces.
A few minutes later, genesis covered the duvet over Kieran's body, her hand smoothing down his hair over and over, murmuring a tune under her breath, her eyes were red and puffy, she has cried so much, watching her husband cry to bed and she couldn't stop crying herself.
She stared at him and then leaned down and a tear drop, dropped down on his face and she pressed a kiss to his cheeks and after a few seconds, she pulled away.
She stood for a few minutes staring at the wall and then she suddenly rushed over to the window and then pulled over the curtain, revealing the floor to ceiling glass window and she looked up at the starry night sky.
"Please.." she started, choking on her words for a moment.
"Is anyone up there," she said, her eyes moving around the sky, at that twinkling star light, her chest filled so much pain.
"I have never once come to you, I have been on my own but I have this now," her eyes flickered over to Kieran and then at the front door, meaning the people downstairs that she had called family.
"I have this now," her voice cracked, barely a whisper. Her hand pressed flat against the glass as if she could reach through it, reach higher. "And I can't… I can't do it alone. Please don't take him from me. Don't take any of them."
Her shoulders shook as she forced the words out, hot tears streaking down her cheeks. She swallowed hard, her throat raw. "If you're there, if you're listening… I'll give anything. Just don't let me watch him die."
She stood there, trembling under the weight of her own plea. The stars blinked back in silence, cold and endless. No answer came. Only the sound of her own uneven breathing, and the faint rhythm of Kieran's breath behind her.
Genesis turned, her chest aching as she looked at him—her husband, the unbreakable Knight Blackwood—sleeping with dried tears on his face. The sight tore her apart.
She moved back to him, crawling into bed beside him, curling into his side. Her fingers slipped into his, clutching tight, as if she could anchor him to this world by sheer will.
"I'll fight for you," she whispered into the dark, her lips brushing his knuckles. "Even when you can't fight for yourself. I'll carry it. I'll carry all of it if I have to."
Her eyes burned, but she refused to close them. She stayed awake, guarding him, watching the shadows shift across the room as the night bled on.
For the first time, Genesis realized this wasn't about empires or power or the throne they were building together. This was about survival, not just Donald's, but Kieran's.
And hers.
Because if he fell apart, she knew she'd follow.