They kept Killian in the hospital for five days.
Five days of him fighting the doctors about bedrest. Five days of nurses trying to enforce medication schedules while he insisted he was fine. Five days of Isla watching him struggle with being vulnerable.
He hated it.
Hated being weak. Hated needing help. Hated that he couldn't just walk out and return to running his empire.
But his body had other plans.
The blood loss had been severe. The bullet wounds required time to heal. The concussion needed rest.
So he stayed. Under protest. Making everyone's life difficult.
Isla stayed too.
She slept in the chair beside his bed. Ate meals from the cafeteria. Ignored Luca's suggestions that she go home and rest properly.
"I'm not leaving him," she said on day three.
"Mrs. Archer, you need actual sleep. In an actual bed."
"I'm fine."
"You're exhausted. And Mr. Archer would want you taking care of yourself."
"Then Mr. Archer can tell me himself when he wakes up."
