Chapter 135: Chapter 135
Two days later:
Celeste lay there, fragile, her face drained of color, and her lips too still. A faint trace of her perfume lingered, but it was swallowed up by the antiseptic tang in the air.
He hadn’t moved for hours. His elbows rested on his knees, and his hand curled into a fist beneath his chin. Every so often his eyes shut, but he never let himself drift away. He refused to close his eyes while hers remained shut.
Rodger stood by the window, his posture stiff, as if even breathing too loudly would shatter the fragile thread keeping the woman in the bed tethered to life.
His phone vibrated in his hand, but he silenced it with a thumb. He had been debating for hours when to bring up the letter, and whether he was ready to be the one to put gasoline on the fire that was already smoldering inside Dominic.
Finally, he cleared his throat. His voice was soft, but deliberate when he reached out. "Boss..."
Dominic didn’t move. He barely blinked. His silence was the kind that made men stammer, but Rodger had worked with him too long to flinch.
"There’s something you should see."
Dominic’s jaw flexed. Slowly, his gaze lifted. It was heavy and sharp, cutting across the room to Rodger like a blade. He didn’t speak. He only raised a brow, waiting.
Rodger hesitated. Then, with the weight of betrayal on his shoulders, he stepped closer and placed the folded letter on the table beside Dominic.
The paper was slightly crumpled, as though it had been handled too many times, carrying the scent of blood and smoke, and the faintest trace of burnt rubber.
Dominic stared at it. His hand hovered over it, with his veins tight against his skin. He knew what it meant before he even touched it. He could smell trouble.
He picked it up anyway.
His thumb slid beneath the fold, slow, and deliberate. The moment the words hit his eyes, something in his chest shifted.
Carlos name, his tone, and his insolence scrawled across the page in ink that bled like venom.
Dominic read in silence. The words blurred for a second. Not because he didn’t understand them, but because his pulse surged so hard that it rattled his skull. His teeth clenched. His throat tightened, and his temples throbbed.
"Carlos," he murmured, almost to himself, but the sound was deadly.
Rodger stepped closer. "It was found in the body of the man who blew up due to the explosion. They wanted you to have it."
Dominic shook his head once, his eyes still fixed on the paper. "Wanted me to have it..." His voice was quieter now, but the quiet was worse than shouting. "That coward left me his confession in ink. As if I’d ever need words to know who he was."
The muscles in his jaw worked as he refolded the letter with care that did not match the storm in his chest. He placed it back on the table, almost gently.
That was how Rodger knew the fury was dangerous. Dominic wasn’t the kind of man who exploded. He tightened, he restrained, and when the dam broke, no one survived.
Rodger spoke carefully. "Boss... Carlos is making moves. He knows you’re occupied. He knows you won’t leave her side. That’s why he’s doing this now."
Dominic didn’t answer. His eyes were back on Celeste. Her fragile breaths filled the silence. It came out steady but too soft. The tubes, the pale sheets, and the way her hand looked so small beneath his stabbed at him.
He had faced bullets, knives, and betrayal. He had lost men in wars that should never have been fought. However, nothing cut like this. Nothing cut like seeing her suspended between life and death, and knowing it was his war that had dragged her into it.
His voice was gravel when he finally spoke. "He took advantage of her vulnerability. Of me." His hand covered hers, the warmth of his palm swallowing her cold fingers.
His chest rose and fell with a force that almost rattled the chair. His other hand pressed to his forehead, the heel of his palm digging into the spot that had been pounding since the accident.
He shut his eyes for a moment, and all he could see was fire. The car behind him exploding. His men burning alive, and the thick smell of iron and gasoline thick in the air.
Rodger broke the silence, after his eyes landed on the food tray. "You haven’t eaten, Boss. Its been three days now, since you took in your last bite."
Dominic’s eyes snapped open, sharp and unblinking. "Do you think food matters to me right now?"
Rodger swallowed. "It matters if you want to fight back. You’re no good to her if you collapse. And you’re no good to anyone if Carlos finds you weak."
Dominic’s gaze hardened. For a long moment, he said nothing. Then, slowly, his lips curved into the faintest, coldest smile. "Weak?" His voice was low. "Rodger, tell me. Have you ever seen me weak?"
Rodger lowered his gaze. "No, Boss."
"Then don’t insult me with reminders of food and sleep." His hand moved back to Celeste’s, his thumb brushing her knuckles as though the motion could call her back to him. His eyes softened in a way that unsettled Rodger more than the fury did.
Dominic leaned forward, whispering, to himself, and into her. "If you breathe, I breathe. That’s the deal, isn’t it?" His lips brushed the back of her hand, lingering. His chest tightened until it almost split him in half. "So don’t you dare stop."
Rodger turned away, giving him privacy. He’d seen Dominic in many states. Furious, calculating, and even bleeding out. But he had never seen him like this, so raw, and so tethered to another human being that his entire empire seemed to hang on the rise and fall of her chest.
Time bled together in that sterile room, broken only by the mechanical beep and the hum of fluorescent lights.
When Dominic finally spoke again, his voice was steadier, but colder. "Call Amara."
Rodger blinked. "Boss?"
"You heard me." His eyes stayed fixed on Celeste. "Tell her about what happened. And make sure she understands."
Rodger hesitated. "Are you sure? Bringing her in? She might not be able to handle__"
Dominic cut him off with a look.
Rodger exhaled slowly. He nodded. "Yes, Boss."
He left the room, his footsteps silent, and his chest heavy.
Dominic remained, his hand never leaving Celeste’s. His mind was a battlefield. He thought of Carlos.
He thought of Celeste’s laughter, her warmth, and the way her eyes lit when she teased him. He thought of the men who died because they were loyal to him. He thought of the empire he built, the empire Carlos thought he could take.
His body screamed for food, for rest, and for water, but he ignored it. He couldn’t eat while she lay there. He couldn’t close his eyes while hers were closed.
His voice broke the silence again, soft, almost a prayer. "Come back to me, Celeste. Please. You’ll leave me no choice but to stay here forever."