Chapter 48 Primal Fear
**Kyle’s POV**
+25 BONUS
I heard the crash of breaking glass followed by Mia’s cry, sharp with fear. Something in her voice made my blood run cold. Not her usual quiet distress, but raw panic.
My feet were moving before conscious thought kicked in. Taking the stairs two at a time, I reached her room just as another cry echoed through the darkness.
“Help! Somebody help!”
The sight that greeted me stopped my heart. Mia was on the floor, surrounded by glittering shards of what must have been the crystal vase from her nightstand. Blood seeped from her foot where she’d stepped on broken glass, but it was her face that caught me–the unfocused eyes, the desperate way her hands reached out into empty air.
“Mia?” I moved carefully through the glass. “What happened?”
“I can’t-” Her voice broke, tears streaming down her cheeks. “I can’t see. I can’t see…anything.”
In twenty years of running K.T. Enterprises, through mergers and crises and billion–dollar deals, I’d never felt anything like this primal fear.
*Control yourself*, I commanded silently. She didn’t need my panic on top of her own.
“Let’s get you away from this glass.” I lifted her carefully, noting how light she felt in my arms. Had she always been this fragile? “Are you hurt anywhere else?”
“Just my foot, I think.” Her fingers clutched my shirt, knuckles white with tension. “The vase broke, and I couldn’t—I couldn’t see where-”
“Shh.” I carried her to the bathroom, settling her on the marble counter. “Let me look at that cut.”
Under the bright bathroom lights, I could see how pale she’d become. Dark circles shadowed her eyes–eyes that normally sparked with quiet determination, now unfocused and filled with fear.
“This might sting,” I warned, pressing a damp cloth to the cut. She hissed, her hand finding my shoulder.
“Sorry,” I murmured, cleaning the wound as gently as possible. “I don’t think you need stitches, but we should have John look at it. This can’t wait.” I pulled out my phone, hitting his speed dial. He answered on the first ring.
“Kyle? What’s wrong?”
“Get to Metropolitan. Now.” My voice came out sharper than intended. “It’s Mia. She can’t see.”
A brief pause. “Symptoms? When did it start?”
“Just now. She was fine earlier-“I glanced at Mia, who was biting her lip hard enough to draw blood. “Look, just meet us there.
“On my way. Try to keep her calm.”
Hended the call, turning back to Mia. She sat perfectly still, tears rolling silently down her cheeks.
“Hey.” I touched her face gently, wiping away tears with my thumb. “We’ll figure this out.”
“I’m scared,” she whispered, the admission clearly costing her.
“I know.” I lifted her again, careful of her injured foot. “But I’ve got you. Trust me?”
She nodded against my chest, and something in my heart twisted painfully.
The drive to the hospital was endless. Every red light felt like a personal attack. Mia sat silently beside me, flinching at every
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Chapter 48 Primal Fear
+25 BONUS
turn.
“I’m going to fasten your seatbelt,” I told her, leaning across. My hand brushed her arm, and I felt her trembling. “Cold?“. “A little.” She whispered.
I shrugged out of my suit jacket, draping it around her shoulders. The gesture felt inadequate, but her fingers curled into the fabric.
“You’ll get cold,” she protested weakly.
“I’m fine.” I adjusted the car’s temperature. “Try to relax.”
“I can’t see, Kyle. What if–what if it’s permanent?”
“Don’t.” I reached for her hand, finding it ice–cold. “Let’s wait for ohn’s assessment before we worry about that.”
We drove in silence for a few minutes, her fingers gripping mine like a lifeline.
“I was working on the children’s center designs,” she said suddenly, her voice small. “If I can’t see-”
“Mia, stop.” I squeezed her hand. “One thing at a time.”
The emergency room erupted into controlled chaos when we arrived. John was already waiting, his usual calm efficiency taking charge.
“Mrs. Branson.” He approached with measured steps. “Can you tell me exactly what happened?”
“I woke up and everything was dark,” Mia explained, her voice steadier now. “I thought maybe the power was out, but-” She gestured helplessly. “Nothing. Just complete darkness.”
“Any headaches? Dizziness?”
“Some. I’ve been tired lately…”
“Tired?” John’s tone sharpened slightly. “How long?”
“A few weeks, maybe? I’ve been busy with work, and Mom’s surgery-”
“When did you last eat?”
Mia hesitated. “I had coffee last morning.”
“Coffee isn’t food.” John made a note on his tablet. “Kyle, a word?”
We stepped away from the bed, though I kept Mia in my line of sight.
“Her blood pressure is through the roof,” John said quietly. “Combined with severe exhaustion and what appears to b significant malnutrition-” He paused, choosing his words carefully. “This isn’t just stress, Kyle. This is systematic neglect.”
The words hit like physical blows. “Will she-”
“The blindness is likely temporary, caused by hypertensive crisis. But Kyle,” his voice hardened slightly, “if something doesn’t change…”
He didn’t finish. Didn’t need to.
A nurse appeared with admission forms. I took them automatically years of signing documents making the motion natural. But my hand froze over the “relationship to patient” field.
*Husband*, I wrote finally.
“Mr. Branson?” Emma, the head nurse, touched my arm gently. “We need to run some tests. It might take a while.”
Chapter 48 Primal Fear
+25 BONUS
I nodded mechanically, watching as they wheeled Mla away. She looked small against the white hospital sheets, my jacket still draped around her shoulders.
“Kyle?” Her voice, suddenly uncertain. “Will you-
”
“I’m not going anywhere,” I assured her. The promise felt different this time. Weightier.
Hours passed in a blur of tests and consultations. I paced the waiting room, ignored calls from the office, from Taylor, from everyone except John.
“Your wife’s anxiety isn’t helping her blood pressure,” he said when he found me by the window. “Maybe you could sit with her between tests?”
I found her in a private room, curled on her side away from the door. Monitors beeped steadily, measuring vitals I should have been monitoring myself.
“Mia?”
She turned at my voice, her unfocused eyes searching. “I thought you’d left.”
“I told you I wouldn’t.” I moved closer, taking the chair beside her bed. “How are you feeling?”
“Tired.” She reached out hesitantly, and I caught her hand without thinking. “They gave me something for the headache.”
“Good.” I ran my thumb over her knuckles, noting how delicate they felt. “Try to rest.”
“Kyle?” Her voice was barely a whisper. “I’m sorry about the vase.
Something in my chest cracked. Here she was, hospitalized and blind, apologizing for breaking a piece of crystal that probably cost less than my watch.
“The vase doesn’t matter.” I squeezed her hand gently. “None of that matters.‘
”
She was quiet for a long moment. “What happens now?”
“Now you rest.” I adjusted her blanket with my free hand. “Let the medication work.”
“And then?”
“Shh.” I brushed hair back from her face. “We’ll figure everything out. Just rest now.”
She drifted off eventually, her hand still clasped in mine. I watched her sleep, really looked at her for what felt like the first time
in years.
Dark circles shadowed her eyes. Her cheekbones were too sharp, her wrists too thin. When had she stopped eating properly? When had she started working such long hours? “God, Mia,” I whispered, though she couldn’t hear me. “What have I don you?”
