Five Million Dollar Goodbye

When Declan got completely trashed last night, he shoved his family’s multimilliondollar heirloom diamond bracelet onto my wrist.

He buried his face in my neck, his eyes redrimmed and desperate, his breath hot and ragged as he begged me not to go. The very next morning, the alcohol wore off.

His jaw ticked as his cold, sober eyes locked onto me. "Take it off.

That doesn’t belong to you." I slipped the heavy diamonds off my wrist, flashing him a soft, compliant smile with no tears, no begging, and not a single trace of the heartbreak he expected.

He didn't know the truth. My mind was already racing, counting down the days. Just one more month. One more month until the contract expired.

That fivemilliondollar final payout was the only thing that could keep my fiancé, Levi, on life support at Mount Sinai.

Chapter 1 He sat on the edge of the mattress, digging his knuckles into his temples.

His bloodshot eyes didn't even glance my way, staying glued to the glittering diamond bracelet I had just placed on the sheets.

It was the heirloom he was saving, the engagement piece for his golden girl, Natalia. "Forget about last night," his voice grated like crushed gravel—a command, not a request.

I knelt on the plush rug, gathering his discarded suit jacket and tie.

I tipped my head up, offering him the gentle, flawless smile I had spent years perfecting. "Don't worry, Declan. You passed out the second you hit the mattress. Nothing happened.

You didn't say a word." This was exactly why he kept me around. I played the game perfectly, never prying or crossing boundaries, and erasing whatever didn't fit his narrative.

The tension bled out of Declan's shoulders as he pushed himself up and walked into the master bathroom.

I let out a slow exhale, grabbing the heavy, icy diamonds to tuck the priceless piece into its velvet box before placing it dead center on the nightstand where he couldn’t miss it.

Once the bedroom was immaculate, I headed down to the kitchen to blend his usual postbender detox smoothie.

I slid the glass across the marble island just as his executive assistant walked in, dropping off a fresh suit and a massive bombshell. "Declan, Natalia's flight back to New York is booked.

She lands on the fifth of next month." Declan’s fingers froze on his silver cufflink.

The permanent ice in his eyes thawed instantly, replaced by a flicker of raw, unrestrained panic. "The fifth…" He muttered, the syllable catching in his throat. "That's less than a month." His head snapped toward me, his gaze dragging up and down my body, sudden and hypercritical.

I knew exactly what that look meant. The real deal was coming home. The knockoff had to go. For five grueling years, I morphed into whatever he demanded.

I wore the minimalist silk dresses Natalia loved, kept my hair dyed pitchblack and pinstraight, and even tweaked the muscle memory of my smile to match hers.

I was a flawless mirror image. But an illusion shatters the second the lights come on. "Hazel," Declan snapped, his tone dripping with dismissive charity. "Pack your things.

Move into the Brooklyn penthouse for the rest of the month.

Stay out of my way." "Of course." The words slipped out of my mouth so effortlessly, so quickly, that his dark brows pulled together into a sharp frown. "And when this contract ends," he added, his voice dropping an octave, "I don't want to see your face anywhere near Manhattan." I kept my hands folded neatly in my lap, not letting a single muscle in my face twitch. "Understood.

I'll disappear completely, and won't cause any trouble for you or Natalia." I nudged the cold glass closer to his knuckles, tapping the condensation away. "Drink up before you head to the office.

It'll settle your stomach." Declan stared down at me, a muscle feathering along his jawline. He looked almost entirely offbalance.

In his warped reality, I was supposed to drop to my knees, sob, claw at his shirt, and beg him not to throw me away. Instead, my pulse was steady.

My brain was already crunching the numbers. The fifth of next month. That was the exact date our fiveyear NDA and standin contract would go up in smoke.

The second that fivemilliondollar wire transfer hit my bank account, I was done babysitting this walking red flag.

Declan downed the drink and tossed a sleek black Amex onto the kitchen counter, the heavy metal clattering against the marble. "Buy yourself something decent.

I'm dragging you to a private party in three days.

Your final appearance." He paused, his eyes narrowing as he took in my relaxed posture, a cruel sneer twisting his lips. "Don't embarrass me. And drop the pathetic doormat act.

Natalia never looks this desperate." I picked up the heavy black card, my lips stretching into a bright, sickeningly sweet curve. "Thanks, Declan.

I'll make sure to practice." For five million bucks? I wouldn't just act like Natalia. I'd wrestle a damn grizzly bear if he asked.

Chapter 2 The Zenith was Manhattan's most exclusive playground for the filthy rich. I looped my arm through Declan’s as he pushed open the heavy mahogany doors to the VIP lounge.

The bassheavy music didn't stop, but the conversation instantly flatlined before the catcalls erupted. "Well, look who it is. Declan brought the wifey." "Wifey? Please.

That's just Hazel. Our little Hazel." "Gotta admit, in that dress, she's a dead ringer for Natalia.

No wonder Declan kept the cheap knockoff on his payroll for five years just for laughs." The loudest voice belonged to Chase, Declan’s childhood best friend and the guy who despised my guts.

To him, I was just a gold digger, a cheap placeholder warming Declan’s bed until the real thing came back. Declan didn't defend me.

He just guided me toward the center leather sofa, claiming his throne.

I slipped into my role, grabbing the frosted bottle of Dom Pérignon, my hands steady as I poured the liquor into their glasses without spilling a single drop. "So, Hazel.

Word on the street is Natalia's coming back. What's your game plan?" Chase swirled his bourbon, watching me with a highly amused, expectant smirk.

Every pair of eyes in the lounge locked onto me.

They lived for this kind of drama—watching the pathetic knockoff get shoved aside, waiting for the inevitable breakdown. "That's Declan's business.

I just do what I'm told." Chase scoffed, a harsh, grating sound. "Drop the act. You're probably cursing us out in your head right now.

Five years of unlimited black cards and luxury penthouses.

You expect us to believe you're just going to walk away?" He reached out, hooking a lock of my jetblack hair around his index finger, his tone turning sleazy. "Tell you what.

When Declan throws you out with the trash, why don't you come warm my bed?

I can't match his net worth, but a hundred grand a month should be enough to buy a stray like you." The entire lounge erupted into howling laughter.

Declan leaned back into the leather cushions, taking a slow drag from his cigarette as the thick smoke masked his expression.

He didn't shut it down because he was inhaling the power trip, loving the knowledge that I belonged completely to him. I wanted to shove the liquor bottle down Chase's throat.

Instead, I widened my eyes, forcing a panicked tremor into my voice as I shrank closer to Declan’s broad chest. "Chase, please don't joke like that." That tiny, desperate shift toward him did the trick, flaring Declan’s ego as he casually swatted Chase’s hand away. "Knock it off.

You're scaring her." He tapped his cigarette over the crystal ashtray. "She’s been good to me for five years. We're ending this cleanly.

Don't make it ugly." Chase threw his hands up in mock surrender. "Alright, alright. You always were soft on her. But hey, Hazel—know your place. Take the payout and disappear.

Don't go full stalker on us." I dipped my head, offering a meek nod. "You're absolutely right, Chase." Halfway through the night, Declan’s phone buzzed.

He checked the screen and immediately stepped out onto the terrace. It didn't take a genius to know who was calling. Natalia.

The second the terrace door clicked shut, the vibe in the room went toxic. Chase started snapping his fingers, ordering me to fetch his bourbon and light his cigars.

He even intentionally flicked his cigarette ash onto the pristine white silk of my couture gown.

I didn't say a damn word, just sat there and took it—not out of weakness, but because Declan paid for this dress, meaning I didn't owe him a cent for the dry cleaning.

Every insult I swallowed was just fuel. I was padding that fivemilliondollar finish line. Then, my phone buzzed against my thigh.

A text from Mount Sinai. [Levi’s vitals are crashing. His organs are showing signs of rejection. We need to prep for a secondary transplant immediately.

Estimated shortfall for the surgery and imported immunosuppressants: $500,000.] Half a million dollars just for the deficit.

That didn't even touch the mountain of medical debt we already owed, nor did it cover the specialized rehab he needed just to open his eyes again.

Every single cent of that fivemilliondollar payout. I needed it all. My throat closed up as the air in the VIP lounge suddenly felt too thin to breathe.

A sharp, jagged ache flared directly behind my ribs. I stared at the glowing screen, my fingernails biting so hard into the meat of my palms that the skin threatened to split.

Chapter 3 "What are you staring at? Declan left. Shouldn't you be figuring out how to entertain us?" Chase’s leather loafer connected hard with my shin.

I shoved the phone into my clutch and snapped my gaze up. I couldn't mask the pure, glacial hatred fast enough.

Chase flinched, reeling back slightly. "The hell is that look for?" I blinked, instantly slipping back into the pathetic, compliant shell he expected. "Nothing.

I was just wondering when Declan would be back." The heavy door flew open.

Declan pushed back into the lounge, his face dark and his energy visibly agitated. "We're leaving." His large hand locked around my wrist, hauling me to my feet with a sudden pressure that bruised my skin. "Declan, what's wrong?" I asked as he shoved me into the passenger seat of his Aston Martin.

He slammed his foot on the gas, the tires screeching against the asphalt as we tore out of the parking garage. "Natalia bumped her flight up.

She lands tomorrow," he ground the words out through his teeth. "You're moving out tonight." We drifted into the driveway of the estate.

He didn't even kill the engine, his cold, dark eyes pinning me to the leather seat. "Go upstairs and pack. Take your own garbage.

Leave everything I bought." He tapped his knuckles against the steering wheel. "You have exactly one hour." Any other woman who had given him five years of her life would have shattered right there in the passenger seat.

All I felt was relief. "Understood. I'll be quick." I pushed the car door open, my boots hitting the pavement, and I practically sprinted up the marble steps.

This multimilliondollar mansion wasn't a home. It was a suffocating, velvetlined cage.

Every room reeked of Natalia's memory, and I was just the glorified maid paid to dust her ghost.

I walked into the master suite and yanked a battered duffel bag from the back of the closet. The racks were stuffed with Chanel tweed, Hermes Birkins, and Cartier boxes.

I didn't touch a single piece. I threw in the cheap cotton tshirts I had brought with me five years ago and a frayed canvas toiletry bag.

Then, I slid open the hidden compartment in the mahogany nightstand. I pulled out a faded, creased Polaroid. Levi stared back at me.

He wore a crisp white buttondown, holding two melting vanilla cones, flashing a smile brighter than the July sun. We had taken it back at NYU.

Before the drunk driver had crossed the center line. Before I sold my soul and my face to a billionaire to keep his heart beating.

Staring at his face, the toxic, nauseating residue left by Declan and Chase finally started to burn off. "Just hold on, Levi.

We're almost out." I brushed my thumb over the glossy paper and tucked it safely into my worn leather wallet.

I packed my entire life in under twenty minutes and dragged the duffel downstairs.

Declan was standing in the center of the sunken living room, aggressively dragging on a cigarette as a pile of crushed butts littered the pristine Persian rug.

His dark eyes locked onto my pathetic canvas bag. A deep groove formed between his brows. "That's it?" "Yes. Everything else belongs to you.

It wouldn't be right to take it." I stopped at the foyer, placing the heavy brass house key onto the marble console table.

My attitude was perfectly respectful, leaving no room for him to find fault. A muscle leaped in his jaw. My utter lack of resistance was clearly messing with his head.

He wanted a fight, and I was giving him nothing but air. "There's a million on this card. Severance." He flicked a sleek platinum card onto the table.

I didn't reach for it. "That won't be necessary. An Amex is a line of credit tied to your name, and I want a clean break.

The contract explicitly outlines the final fivemilliondollar wire transfer, and I won't risk a breach over this." I wasn't about to play games with small change.

I wanted the five million. The hard, legally binding payout. If I touched his severance, he could twist it, claim breach of contract, and withhold my final wire.

When it came to keeping Levi alive, my mind operated like a ruthless Wall Street auditor.

Chapter 4 Declan’s features hardened into a lethal scowl. "Take the damn plastic and shut up!" He slammed his hand against the console table, making the brass key jump. "I don't need the cash, Declan," I lied smoothly, sliding the platinum card back across the polished marble.

A dark, humorless laugh ripped from his throat. "Don't need the cash? You sold yourself for five years to play dressup.

Drop the righteous act, Hazel." I kept my chin tucked, staring at the floorboards. I didn't offer a single syllable of defense. "Fine.

If you want to play the martyr, get the hell out." He pointed a rigid finger at the heavy front doors. I felt the invisible collar snap off my neck.

Feeling like a prisoner finally granted parole, I grabbed the handle of my duffel bag and turned on my heel.

Just as my hand hit the brass doorknob, Declan’s voice lashed out, venomous and low. "Walk out that door, Hazel, and there's no turning back.

Don't expect me to chase you down and coddle you like before." Coddle me? My mind flashed back to my first month here.

I had hidden in the closet, silently crying over his toxic mood swings until he had found me, complained about the noise, and launched a limitededition Prada bag at my chest. "Stop crying.

It's giving me a migraine," he had snapped. That wasn't coddling. That was a billionaire paying a nuisance to shut up. I stopped dead in my tracks.

I didn't look over my shoulder, but I locked my knees and snapped my spine perfectly straight. "Don't worry, Declan.

I'd never look back." I dragged my battered bag out of the gated estate. I didn't head to the Brooklyn penthouse he ordered me to use.

I hailed a yellow cab and gave the driver the address for the downtown hospital. The midnight ICU ward was a dead zone.

The only sound was the rhythmic, hollow beep of the life support monitors. I pressed my palms flat against the freezing observation glass.

My eyes devoured the man lying in the sterile bed. Five years. Levi was a ghost of himself.

His skin was translucent, his chest rising and falling only because the thick plastic tubes forced air into his compromised lungs. But his heart was beating.

As long as he breathed, I had a reason to fight. The head nurse walked out of the double doors.

She spotted me and let out a heavy sigh. "Hazel, you're here this late?" "I just needed to see him." "His vitals crashed again yesterday," she murmured, her eyes full of pity. "The attending physician was clear.

If we don't prep him for the second transplant immediately, we're going to lose him." "I know." I turned away from the glass.

I locked eyes with her, my gaze hardening into solid steel. "The funds are secured. Prep the OR for the fifth of next month." I checked into a seedy, fiftydollaranight motel.

My days blurred into a strict routine: sit by Levi's bed, then stare at the peeling wallpaper and count down the hours. Three days left.

Three days until Declan’s wire transfer hit my account and bought my absolute freedom. But reality never played fair. At 11:00 PM on the penultimate night, my burner phone lit up.

Declan’s name flashed on the cracked screen. "Where the hell are you?" His voice was slurred, thick with liquor.

A heavy bassline and the clinking of expensive crystal echoed in the background. "I moved out, Declan.

Just like you ordered," I replied, keeping my tone perfectly flat. "I asked for an address!" He roared into the receiver. "Natalia wants to meet you." The bottom dropped out of my stomach.

Natalia wanted to see me? The real deal wanted to inspect the cheap knockoff?

That was a guaranteed bloodbath. "Declan, that violates the terms of the NDA—" "Shut up!" he snarled. "Be at The Obsidian Room in thirty minutes.

If you aren't here, you can kiss that five million goodbye!" The line went dead. My knuckles bleached white against the plastic casing of my phone.

He wasn't just threatening my payout. He was holding a loaded gun to Levi’s head. I dragged a ragged breath into my lungs.

I zipped myself into a pale blue silk gown—Natalia’s absolute favorite color—and hailed a cab. I shoved the heavy mahogany doors of the VIP suite open.

My eyes immediately locked onto the woman sitting thightothigh with Declan. Chapter 5 She was stunning.

That kind of effortless, bonedeep confidence wasn't something I could fake, even with five years of practice. But she was wearing a bloodred slip dress. Bold. Loud.

Nothing like the minimalist, pastelobsessed phantom I'd been forced to play. Declan hadn't been dressing me up as Natalia. He'd been dressing me up as a ghost.

The real Natalia had moved on. Natalia's eyes dragged over me, dissecting me from head to toe.

The look was a toxic mix of morbid curiosity and sheer contempt. "So you're Hazel." She tilted her head, her lips curving into a smirk. "You actually do look a little like the old me." I stood completely still in the doorway. "Natalia." Declan slouched into the leather sofa, swirling the amber liquid in his rocks glass.

His dark eyes flicked between us, waiting for the bloodbath. Natalia looped her manicured fingers around his bicep.

She leaned in, her voice dropping into a sickly sweet purr. "Five years, Declan? How much did it cost to keep a pet this obedient?" Declan didn't even blink.

His gaze dragged over me, cold and indifferent. "Pocket change. She's just a toy." A toy. The syllables felt like physical slaps. A sharp, icy prick dug straight into my eardrums.

I kept an appropriate, polite smile on my face, refusing to show a single trace of humiliation. I wouldn't bleed for them. Natalia pushed off the sofa.

She sauntered right into my personal space, a full glass of Merlot swaying in her hand. "Word is, you'll do absolutely anything for a paycheck." She stopped inches from my face. "So get on your knees.

Apologize. Say out loud that you're just a pathetic, cheap knockoff. Let's see if you'll do it." The heavy bass thumping through the floorboards suddenly felt deafening.

The entire VIP suite went dead silent. Every pair of eyes locked onto me. Declan’s jaw flexed. A shadow crossed his face. He didn't tell her to back off. He just watched.

He was waiting for me to break. He wanted me to beg him for mercy. I dragged my gaze from Declan’s face to the dark red liquid sloshing in Natalia's glass. Five million dollars.

Levi’s heartbeat. My pride was worthless. My dignity didn't pay hospital bills.

I let gravity take over, letting my knees buckle and hit the floor with a dull, vibrating thud that sent an ache straight up my shins.

Declan’s pupils blew wide open as he shot up from the leather sofa, his chest heaving. I tipped my chin up, deadlocking onto Natalia's wide eyes.

My voice was eerily flat, devoid of a single ounce of oxygen. "I apologize, Natalia. I'm a cheap knockoff. I never should have copied you." Natalia froze.

She probably hadn't expected me to drop to my knees so quickly, without a single ounce of hesitation. She wanted a fight. She wanted to shatter me and bathe in the power trip.

Instead, I gave her a robotic, transactional surrender.

It suffocated her high. "You crazy bitch—" Natalia's face flushed with ugly, irrational rage as she jerked her arm back, aiming the Merlot directly at my face. "Enough!" Declan cleared the space in a split second, his large hand clamping down hard over Natalia's wrist.

The glass tipped. The dark red wine sloshed across the floor, splashing violently over the hem of my pale blue silk. "Declan?" Natalia gasped, the glass slipping from her fingers.

Declan’s face was an ashen mask of barely contained fury, his chest pumping rapidly.

His dark eyes drilled into me, completely unhinged by the sight of me on the floor. "Hazel, what the hell are you—" He choked on the words. He wanted to tear into me. But how?

For doing exactly what I was paid to do? For having no backbone? I stayed planted on the rug.

I didn't even flinch at the wine stains. "Do you need anything else, Declan?" I asked, my voice chillingly steady. "If we're done here, am I dismissed?" "Get out!" Declan roared.

He ripped his hand through his hair, his control snapping. "Get the hell out!" I pushed myself off the floor. Smooth. Calculated. I brushed the dust from my kneecaps.

I offered them both a slight, respectful bow. "Wishing you both a lifetime of happiness." I turned on my heel and walked out the heavy mahogany doors. I didn't miss a single step.

Chapter 6 The biting New York wind slammed into my face as I pushed through the club's heavy doors. A violent shiver ripped through my spine.

My silk dress was drenched in cold sweat. My phone vibrated against my palm. 12:01 AM. It was the fifth. The contract was dead.

A banner notification flashed across the cracked screen from Chase Bank. [Account ending in 8888: Incoming Wire Transfer of $5,000,000.00 has cleared.] The air punched out of my lungs.

My vision blurred as hot, stinging tears spilled over my eyelashes, cutting through the freezing wind. Levi was going to live.

I aggressively swiped my thumb under my eyes, my fingers flying across the glass screen.

I blocked Declan’s number, deleted his iMessage thread, and wiped every single trace of him from my contacts.

I popped the SIM card out with the post of my earring and flicked the tiny square of plastic straight into a streetside trash can. Goodbye, Declan.

I was done babysitting a billionaire toddler with rage issues. I had the cash. I had the man I actually loved. My real life was finally starting.

The deduction alerts lit up my screen, draining the millions into Mount Sinai’s billing department. My pulse steadied. A deep calm finally washed over me.

The red IN USE light flicked on above the OR doors.

I slumped onto the freezing plastic waiting room chairs, lacing my fingers together so tight my knuckles ached, bargaining with any god that would listen.

Take ten years off my life. Just let him open his eyes. The surgery dragged on for ten grueling hours.

My SIMless phone was still hooked up to the hospital’s guest WiFi, and push notifications bled through the lock screen.

Declan had bought out every digital billboard in Times Square. A hundredfoottall welcome home declaration for his golden girl, Natalia.

The glossy paparazzi shots made them look like absolute royalty. A couple of scrub nurses gossiped at the station down the hall. "So romantic.

Didn't he have some lookalike side piece? Bet that cheap copy is crying her eyes out in a bathroom somewhere." A genuine, unscripted laugh bubbled up my throat. Cry?

Why the hell would I cry? Declan just bankrolled my fiancé's multimillion dollar organ transplant.

If I could, I’d send the arrogant bastard an Edible Arrangement with a card reading: Humanitarian of the Year. The red light snapped off.

The lead surgeon pushed through the swinging doors, ripping off his surgical mask to flash a bonetired smile. "The transplant was a success. Levi’s fighting hard.

Barring any rejection spikes, he should wake up within the week." The last ounce of adrenaline drained from my bloodstream.

My knees gave out, and I collapsed back into the plastic chair, burying my face in my hands as silent tears streamed down my face. Five years.

I finally dragged him back from the edge of the grave. To save every remaining cent for Levi's rehab, I didn't book a hotel.

I camped out on the linoleum floor right outside the ICU.

I was already hardwired to sleep lightly anyway—five years of jumping out of bed at the slightest noise to fetch water and meds for a billionaire would do that to you.

My spine ached, but my chest felt completely light. I just never expected Declan to snap so fast. It was the morning of the third day.

I was huddled in the corner, chewing on a stale vending machine bagel. A violent commotion erupted at the end of the sterilized hallway.

A wall of suited security guards shoved past the waiting families, violently clearing a path. Declan stalked through the gap. Pure, freezing hostility radiated off him.

He wore a razorsharp black overcoat, but it couldn't hide the bruised bags under his eyes or the erratic, frantic energy humming under his skin.

His eyes locked onto me, taking in my hunched posture, the cheap bagel, the linoleum floor. His heavy boots skidded to a halt.

The anger in his eyes instantly turned into absolute disbelief. "Hazel," he snarled, the name tearing through his teeth. "Are you done throwing this pathetic tantrum?" Chapter 7 I slowly swallowed the dry bite of my bagel, dusted the crumbs off my hands, and pushed myself off the floor. "Declan, this is a hospital.

Keep your voice down." Declan closed the distance in two massive strides.

His hand locked around my wrist, the crushing pressure threatening to snap my bones. "Who gave you the right to block my number? Who gave you the right to leave?

Did you really think I wouldn't track you down just because I was busy with Natalia?" His dark eyes drilled into my face, aggressively searching for a single trace of jealousy, a single tear of heartbreak.

He found absolutely nothing. "The contract expired, Declan." I kept my voice deadlevel. "I disappeared exactly like you ordered.

What exactly are you trying to pull here?" He finally tore his gaze away, his lip curling in deep disgust as he took in the chaotic, overcrowded public waiting area. "What the hell are you doing here?

Are you sick? I just wired you five million dollars, and you're too cheap to book a private suite? I knew you were a gold digger.

I didn't realize you were a pennypincher, too." He let out a harsh scoff, reaching into his tailored jacket.

He pulled out a heavy black Centurion card and chucked it directly at my chest. The metal clipped my collarbone and clattered onto the scuffed linoleum floor. "Pick it up.

Clean yourself up and get back to the Brooklyn penthouse. Natalia is generous. She won't hold your little stunt against you.

As long as you stay in your lane, I can keep paying for you." The surrounding families waiting in the hallway turned their heads, their eyes heavy with judgment and disdain.

I stared down at the black metal on the floor. A laugh ripped out of my throat, bubbling over, loud and unrestrained, until my ribs ached and tears pricked the corners of my eyes.

Declan’s scowl deepened. "What's so damn funny?" "Do you not speak English, Declan?" I choked back the laughter and bent down to pinch the edge of the card.

A smug, arrogant smirk instantly smoothed out his features. He thought he had me. He thought I was crawling right back into my cage.

With a flick of my wrist, the heavy metal card sailed through the air in a perfect arc, clanking straight into the red biohazard bin. "I quit, Declan." I dropped the respectful tone. "I'm not for sale anymore." The smugness shattered off his face, replaced instantly by a storm of fury. "Hazel!

You threw my card in the trash? Do you have any idea what you're rejecting?" He lunged forward. Before his fingers could graze me, the double doors of the ICU crashed open.

A nurse leaned out, her voice cutting sharply through the tension. "Levi's proxy! Is the family proxy for Levi here? He's awake!" Levi. A bomb went off in my skull.

I instantly wiped Declan from my existence, spun on my heel, and sprinted down the corridor. "I'm here!

I'm here!" I slammed my hands against the observation glass, my breath hitching. The man who had been trapped in a fiveyear nightmare was fighting through the fog.

His heavy eyelids fluttered, and his pale fingers twitched against the white sheets. My vision completely flooded.

I pressed my forehead against the freezing glass, sobbing uncontrollably. "Levi… Levi, you're finally awake…" A suffocating, icy pressure materialized right behind my spine as Declan stood over my shoulder.

His dark eyes tracked my line of sight through the glass window.

The second his gaze landed on the man in the bed—emaciated and battered, but undeniably handsome—his entire massive frame turned to stone. "Who is he?" Declan pushed the words through his clenched jaw, the sheer, freezing malice in his tone terrifying. "Hazel.

Did you bleed me dry just to keep this prettyboy parasite breathing?" Chapter 8