Adrian's POV
I couldn't leave.
I told myself I was staying at the hospital to make sure the surgical team had everything they needed. That I was just being thorough, making calls, checking details.
But the truth was simpler and more terrifying: I couldn't walk away from the son I'd just discovered existed.
The hospital had a small waiting area near the ICU with uncomfortable chairs and terrible coffee. I sat there at midnight, my phone in my hand, staring at nothing.
Every time I closed my eyes, I saw him. Ethan. My son.
Those dark curls that were exactly like mine as a child. That stubborn chin. Those eyes that looked at me with innocent curiosity, not knowing I was his father.
The father who'd abandoned him before he was even born.
My phone buzzed. James, my COO and best friend.
Where are you? Board meeting started twenty minutes ago.
I'd completely forgotten. The Sterling merger presentation. The biggest deal of the year.
None of it mattered anymore.
Cancel it, I typed back. Cancel everything for the rest of the week.
Three dots appeared, disappeared, appeared again.
Are you okay?
No, I answered honestly. But I will be.
I turned off my phone before James could ask more questions.
"Mr. Blackwell?"
I looked up to find Dr. Winters approaching with a tablet in her hands.
"I need you to fill out the medical history forms for Ethan's surgery," she said. "Normally we'd have both parents do this, but Ms. Hart said you'd be handling it."
Both parents. The words made my chest tight.
"Of course." I took the tablet.
The first question stopped me cold: Father's medical history.
I stared at it, my hand shaking. This should have been filled out four years ago. When Ethan was born, when Elena was pregnant, when she needed someone to hold her hand during doctor's appointments.
But I hadn't been there. I'd thrown her away and never looked back.
"Is there a problem?" Dr. Winters asked.
"No." I started filling in information. Family history of heart disease—yes, my grandfather. Allergies—none that I knew of. Blood type—O negative, same as mine.
Every answer was a reminder of what I'd missed. What Elena had faced alone.
When I finished, Dr. Winters reviewed it carefully. "This is helpful. The genetic component will guide our surgical approach." She paused. "Ms. Hart mentioned you were a family friend, but this level of detail suggests something more."
I met her eyes. "I'm Ethan's father."
Dr. Winters' eyebrows rose slightly. "I see. Does Ethan know?"
"Not yet." The admission hurt. "It's complicated."
"Family usually is." She checked her watch. "The surgical team will be here at five AM to prep. You should get some rest."
Rest. Like I could sleep when my son was fighting for his life.
After Dr. Winters left, I walked back to Ethan's room. Through the window, I could see Elena sitting beside his bed, holding his small hand. She was talking to him softly, even though he was asleep.
She looked exhausted. Beautiful and exhausted and stronger than I'd ever seen her.
This was the woman I'd thrown away. This fierce mother who'd built a life from nothing, who'd survived what I'd done to her and emerged powerful.
I wanted to go in. Wanted to sit on the other side of that bed and be part of this moment.
But I had no right.
Instead, I stayed in the hallway, watching through glass, an outsider to the family I should have protected.
At three AM, Elena finally emerged from Ethan's room. She looked startled to find me still there.
"Why are you still here?" she asked.
"Where else would I be?"
"Home. Work. Anywhere but here."
"He's my son, Elena. I'm not leaving."
She looked like she wanted to argue but was too tired. "The nurses said you filled out the medical forms."
"Dr. Winters needed them for surgery."
"Thank you." The words seemed to cost her something.
We stood in awkward silence, five years of pain between us.
"You should sleep," I said finally. "Surgery is in four hours."
"I can't." Elena's voice cracked. "Every time I close my eyes, I see him on that operating table—"
"He's going to be fine." I said it with more confidence than I felt. "Dr. Winters is the best. The team is exceptional. Ethan is strong."
"He's four years old." Tears spilled down Elena's cheeks. "He's just a baby, Adrian. My baby."
Without thinking, I pulled her into my arms.
She went rigid, and I expected her to push me away. But instead, she collapsed against my chest and sobbed.
I held her while she cried, her tears soaking through my shirt. This woman who'd been so strong, so fierce, finally breaking under the weight of her fear.
"I can't lose him," she whispered. "He's everything to me. Everything."
"You won't lose him," I promised. "I won't let that happen."
"You can't control this. Nobody can."
"Then we'll face it together."
Elena pulled back, wiping her eyes. "There is no together, Adrian. There's just two people who share a child, nothing more."
The words hurt, but I deserved them.
"Elena, I know you hate me—"
"I don't hate you." She looked at me with those sharp eyes. "I wish I did. Hate would be easier than this."
"Than what?"
"Than standing here with you, needing your help, knowing that five years ago you destroyed me." Her voice was steady now, controlled. "You want to be in Ethan's life? Fine. After he recovers, we'll figure out custody arrangements. But don't mistake necessity for forgiveness. And don't think for one second that we can ever be anything more than two people co-parenting a child."
"What if I want more?"
The question escaped before I could stop it.
Elena stared at me like I'd lost my mind. "What?"
"What if I want a chance to fix what I broke? To prove I've changed?"
"You don't get that chance." Her words were ice. "You don't get to waltz back into my life and expect me to forgive you just because we have a son together."
"I'm not asking for forgiveness. I'm asking for the opportunity to earn it."
"No."
"Elena—"
"No, Adrian!" She stepped back, anger replacing vulnerability. "You don't understand what you did to me. I was pregnant and homeless. I worked three jobs while carrying your child. I gave birth alone in a hospital with nobody there to hold my hand. I've raised him by myself for four years, and now you show up wanting a second chance?"
Each word was a dagger to my heart, but I didn't flinch. I deserved every single one.
"You're right," I said quietly. "I don't deserve a second chance. I don't deserve forgiveness. But Ethan deserves a father who will fight for him. And you deserve someone who will finally put you first."
"Pretty words. You were always good at those."
"Then let me prove they're not just words." I moved closer. "Let me show you I've changed."
"Why?" Elena's voice broke. "Why now? Why does it matter after five years?"
"Because—" I stopped, the truth caught in my throat.
Because I'd never stopped loving her. Because seeing her again made me realize what a fool I'd been. Because I'd spent five years hollow and empty, going through the motions of life without feeling anything.
But I couldn't say those things. Not when she was looking at me with such pain in her eyes.
"Because he's my son," I said instead. "And because you deserved better than what I gave you."
Before Elena could respond, alarms screamed through the ICU.
We both spun toward Ethan's room.
Nurses were running. Doctors shouting. The monitors beside Ethan's bed were going crazy with beeping and flashing lights.
"What's happening?" Elena's voice was pure terror.
Dr. Winters burst out of another room, already moving toward Ethan. "His heart rhythm is irregular. We need to move the surgery up immediately."
"What does that mean?" I demanded.
"It means we're out of time." Dr. Winters was barking orders to her team. "Prep OR-2 now. Get anesthesia down here. Move!"
Elena tried to run to Ethan's room, but a nurse stopped her.
"You can't go in during emergency procedures, ma'am—"
"That's my son!" Elena was crying, fighting against the nurse's gentle restraint. "Let me see him!"
Through the window, I could see doctors surrounding Ethan's small form. His eyes were open, scared and confused. He was calling for his mama.
"Elena!" His small voice carried through the chaos. "Mama, I'm scared!"
Elena broke free and ran into the room. I followed, everything else forgotten.
Ethan was conscious but pale, his little chest heaving with each breath. Elena grabbed his hand.
"I'm here, baby. Mama's here."
"It hurts," Ethan whimpered. "My chest hurts."
"I know, sweetheart. But the doctors are going to fix it right now. You're going to be okay."
Dr. Winters was already administering something through his IV. "We need to take him to surgery now. Say goodbye quickly."
Goodbye. Such a small word for something so terrifying.
Elena kissed Ethan's forehead, her tears falling on his face. "I love you so much, Ethan. You're my brave boy. When you wake up, Mama will be right there. I promise."
"I love you too, Mama," Ethan said, his voice getting sleepy from whatever Dr. Winters had given him.
Then his eyes found mine.
"Are you coming too?" he asked softly.
The question destroyed me.
"I'll be right here when you wake up," I promised. "I'm not going anywhere."
Ethan smiled, just a little. "Okay."
Then his eyes closed as the sedation took effect.
They wheeled him away, and Elena collapsed. I caught her before she hit the floor, holding her as she sobbed.
"He has to be okay," she kept repeating. "He has to be okay."
"He will be," I said, even though I was terrified too.
We sank into chairs outside the operating room, and I kept my arms around Elena because she was shaking too hard to sit up alone.
"Mr. Blackwell? Ms. Hart?" A nurse approached with paperwork. "We need surgical consent signatures from both parents."
Both parents.
Elena looked at me, and for the first time since I'd arrived, I saw something other than anger in her eyes.
Fear. Raw, desperate fear.
"Sign it," she whispered. "Please. As his father. Make it official."
My hand shook as I took the pen.
This was it. The moment everything became real.
I signed my name on the line marked Father, and felt the weight of four years of absence crash over me.
The nurse took the forms and disappeared.
Elena and I sat in silence, waiting.
Our son was in surgery, fighting for his life.
And all we could do was wait and hope we'd get the chance to tell him the truth.
That the stranger who'd promised to stay was actually his father.
The father who'd already failed him once and was desperate not to fail him again.