Chapter 27
Jul 18, 2025
Landon’s POV
I wasn’t sure if I should walk in holding proof or flowers, but the folder was already in my hand.
It was thick, printed emails, security logs, surveillance screenshots, all laid out like cold, hard evidence that Marian had staged every part of what Emery saw that night.
This wasn’t just some petty betrayal; it was a carefully planned setup. I hadn’t slept or eaten since I found it, and I’d driven straight to the hospital, fueled by adrenaline and a single purpose: to make sure Emery and our child were safe.
Because I meant every word I said. If anything happened to either of them, I was ready to destroy everything.
At the nurses’ station, a doctor spotted me immediately and came over. His face was tired but steady.
“How’s my wife? Our child?” he asked quietly.
“They’re both safe,” he said. “The bleeding stopped. No signs of early labor. She’s still under observation, but stable.”
Relief hit me harder than I expected. It almost knocked me to my knees, but I stayed standing. “Can I see her now?” I asked.
He nodded and pointed down the hall. I started walking, but every step felt heavy. It wasn’t just a hospital room. It was where everything had changed and where I needed to fix what I could.
When I entered, Emery was awake, sitting up in bed.
An IV dripped slowly into her arm, and her eyes were open but distant. She didn’t look at me. I closed the door gently behind me and crossed the room, setting the folder down on the table beside her.
“I know you’re mad at me,” I said, breaking the silence, my voice low but steady. “But please, just hear me out.”
She stayed quiet, eyes fixed somewhere beyond me. I swallowed the lump in my throat and kept going.
“I brought proof. Everything that happened with Marian… it was a setup. I have emails between her and my mother, security footage, time stamps. It’s all in this folder.”
She didn’t say a word. I pulled up a chair and sat down beside her, careful not to crowd her space but close enough to be there. The quiet between us stretched longer than I thought it would.
The machines beeped softly in the background. The steady hum of fluorescent lights filled the room. It was a far cry from the chaos of what we’d been through, and yet, the weight of it pressed on both of us.
“I haven’t touched anyone since you left,” I admitted. “Not even once.”
Still no response. I glanced down at the folder, then back to her.
“I’m not here to argue or to win. I’m not asking for anything. I came to stop you from hurting more. To stop me from hurting you.”
Her hand moved just a little. A faint twitch. Then it rested on the folder. She didn’t open it, not yet.
We stayed like that for a long moment, locked in silence. I wanted to say so much, but I held back. I realized this wasn’t about forgiveness, or even about explanations. It was about her being seen, being heard, and feeling protected.
Things I had failed to give her before.
The truth was clear. Emery needed more than words. She needed me to stay.
Not because I was asking for another chance, but because I was willing to be there, fully and without conditions.So I stayed quiet. I didn’t beg. I didn’t make promises I couldn’t keep. I just stayed.
Finally, I said softly, “I’m here, Emery. I’m not going anywhere. Not now, not ever.”
Her eyes finally found mine, and for the first time in a long while, I saw something flicker, maybe hope, maybe trust. It was fragile, but it was there.
The room felt smaller then, but somehow lighter. We both knew the road ahead wouldn’t be easy. There were still battles to fight and scars to heal.
But for now, I was present. That was the start.
No grand declarations or sudden fixes. Just the simple truth that I was here, fully and completely, for her and for our child.
