Damien's POV
She stood beside Grandpa's bed like she belonged there. Calm. Still. Quiet in a way that made the room feel softer.
She didn't speak.
Didn't smile.
Just gave a small, polite nod in my direction barely a gesture then turned back to the man in the bed.
I should've said something.
Anything.
But I didn't.
And just like that, she stepped away. Picked up a clipboard from the bedside table. Cleared her throat softly.
"If you'll excuse me, sir," she said, voice low and composed meant more for Grandpa than for me.
Then she left.
No drama. No second glance. The door clicked shut behind her, and the room felt colder.
I didn't move.
Grandpa adjusted his blanket and coughed lightly. "She's been around a lot lately," he murmured. "Doesn't say much, but I like that. Too many people fill silence with nonsense."
I stayed standing, hands in my pockets, jaw tight.
"She reminds me of your mother in her quieter years," he added, a ghost of a smile crossing his face. "Same kind of spine. Graceful, but not delicate."
I gave nothing away. Just stared at him.
"I didn't ask about her," I said coolly.
He chuckled dry, brittle. "No, you didn't. But I know how your mind works."
I moved closer and sat at the edge of the chair by his bed. The leather creaked beneath me.
He looked at me, really looked. His sharp, pale eyes had grown a little duller in recent weeks, but they still held that stubborn fire. "I asked you to come back for a reason," he said finally.
"Another lecture?"
"A warning," he corrected. "And a truth."
I waited.
"This empire… this legacy… it can't run on fear forever." His hand twitched toward the IV line. "Sooner or later, someone's going to need to lead it with more than clenched fists and cold orders."
"You want me to start handing out hugs?" I muttered.
Grandpa let out a soft laugh. "No. I want you to think. Not just about power, but about what keeps power standing."
I stayed silent.
His voice dropped a little. "You're sharp. Calculating. Strategic. But even you won't last if you don't have someone beside you who can hold their own. A partner. Not a decoration. Not a weakness. Someone strong."
"Is this about the board again?"
"It's about your future."
I exhaled, slow. My fingers tapped the armrest once.
He was serious. He always was, but this time it felt different heavier.
"They already fear me," I said. "What more do they need?"
"Someone they respect even more than they fear you," he said simply. "That's how empires survive. That's how families don't rot from the inside out."
I looked at him for a long moment.
His skin was paler than usual. Eyes sunken deeper. But the man beneath the frailty? Still steel. Still command. Still the shadow I had grown up under.
"I'm not in the market for marriage," I said finally.
"I didn't say marriage. I said strength."
He coughed again, harsher this time. Reached for the water glass but his hand trembled slightly. I got it for him without a word.
When he finished sipping, he exhaled, settling back.
"I won't be around much longer," he said. "This… thing growing inside me. It's already made up its mind."
I tensed, just for a second.
"I'm not afraid of dying," he added, glancing toward the window. "But I am afraid of what happens if I leave a kingdom in chaos. That's why I need to know you're not going to burn everything just because you're too damn proud to let someone stand beside you."
I didn't reply.
The silence stretched.
Finally, he reached for my hand not in weakness, but with purpose. "Don't wait until it's too late to build something real."
That sentence echoed louder than it should have.
He let go.
And just like that, the conversation was over.
I stood, nodded once, and turned to leave.
As I walked through the west wing again, she was standing near the nurses' desk. Her head was down, flipping through a chart.
No more long stares. No slow-motion moment. Just passing by.
"Thanks for looking after that oldie," I muttered as I passed her.
She blinked. No sarcasm. No smile. Just a nod.
I didn't wait for anything else.
I walked out.
Down the hallway.
Through the elevator.
Across the parking lot.
The sky had dimmed to a flat steel gray. That in-between hour too late to be night, too early to be day.
I got into the SUV. The engine hummed low. No one said a word.
The city moved around us like noise underwater.
My hands rested on my lap.
Still.
By the time I got back to the penthouse, the silence had followed me inside.
I didn't turn on the lights.
Didn't pour a drink.
Didn't move much at all.
Just stood there in the middle of that spotless living room, staring out at the skyline, where the buildings looked like teeth against the dull sky.
I stayed there until the color of the world shifted again until the dark gave way to light.
---
Amara's POV
The hallway was quieter than usual when I came back.
Even the machines hummed softer, like the whole building was holding its breath.
I stood outside Grandpa's room no, Mr. Black's room for a second before walking in.
He was awake. Propped up against the pillows. The light was low now, casting gold across his sheets. His eyes found me instantly.
"You're still here," he said, voice soft.
I smiled and lifted the edge of his tray. "I couldn't leave without checking your sugar levels. And making sure Nurse Janie didn't sneak in extra pudding."
He chuckled, weak but warm. "You're good, Amara. You've got that rare kind of heart."
I looked away at that, pretending to fix his IV tube. Compliments still didn't sit well.
"I'll be back in the morning," I said, collecting my bag from the chair.
He watched me for a moment, thoughtful. "Goodbye, Amara."
I paused.
Looked at him one last time.
Then shook my head, smiling gently.
"Goodnight is better," I whispered. "Not goodbye."
His lips twitched in a soft smile.
I stepped out and left
Damien's POV
It was morning
Milo opened the door.
He didn't rush. He didn't speak right away. He just stood there, like the weight of what he had to say was stuck in his throat.
I looked at him.
His voice came low. Careful.
"Sir,I... I just got the call from the nurse. Grandfather passed away early this morning."
I blinked. My chest tightened instantly like something inside me had been cut loose.
"They said it was peaceful. He didn't suffer."
I stared at him.
No words came out.
My throat felt dry. My ears were ringing. My fingers curled slowly into fists.
He wasn't supposed to leave yet.
He was supposed to fight.
He was supposed to stay.
I turned away from Milo and sat down, bracing my elbows on my knees.
I didn't speak.
Didn't move.
I just… sat there.
Because I didn't know how to exist in a world where he wasn't breathing anymore.
Milo whispered, "I'm sorry," then quietly stepped out and closed the door behind him.
And I just stayed there.
Still.
Alone.
The only man I ever trusted was gone.
And for the first time in years… I had no one.