We spend three days in the cabin.
Three days of bed rest and satellite internet and digging through Richard's empire looking for cracks.
Three days of falling deeper in love with Damien Cross while trying to destroy his father.
It's surreal. Beautiful. Terrifying.
On the third night—Night Fourteen—Damien makes dinner. Pasta. Garlic bread. Nothing fancy but it smells like home.
"You can cook," I say, surprised.
"One of the few things my mother taught me before the MS got bad." He brings me a plate. I'm still in bed, doctor's orders. "She said a man who can't feed himself is at everyone's mercy. She wanted me independent."
"She sounds wonderful."
"She was. Is. I don't know anymore." He sits beside me. "I need to visit her. After this is over. Make sure she knows I'm okay. That I'm—" He stops. "That I'm going to be a father."
"You think she'll be happy?"
"I think she'll be relieved I finally found something worth living for besides my father's approval."
