Billionaire, I Am Not Your Wife! novel Chapter 279

Chapter 267: Hospital, Again.

SEDONA

The doctor came out fast, faster than To let myself hope, which I came to later realize was deliberate on his end, it was an act of kindness extended to a family who couldn’t have absorbed another long wait.

“He’s going to be fine,” she said.” He has a concussion, but it is moderate. Six stitches along the hairline, head wounds bleed more than they warrant, making it seem like it is a big deal, which is what you saw out there. No skull fracture, no internal bleeding, nothing on the scan that concerns us.”

She looked at the gathered group, too many of us again, the same pattern from weeks ago with Dante, everyone needing to hear it first-hand before they could calm their racing hearts.

“He’s frightened and he’s got a headache that’s going to last a few days. But he’s going to be completely fine.”

I felt my knees nearly give out with the relief of it.

My mother caught me before I fully registered I was falling. She held me upright with both arms, the way she’d held Drew in a hallway weeks earlier, the specific complete embrace of a woman who understood exactly how much weight someone needed taken off them in a single moment.

“He’s okay,” she said, into my hair. “He’s okay, Sedona. You heard her. He’s okay.”

“I know,” I said. My voice came apart on the second word. “I know, I just…”

“I know,” she said again, and held on.

My father was at the front desk.

I hadn’t noticed him leave my side until I looked up and found him there, his voice raised in a register I had almost never heard from him, Parker Preston, who delivered everything in measured, careful sentences, who I had watched hold complete silence through some of the hardest moments of my life, was demanding an update from a nurse with a fury I didn’t fully recognize.

“I want to know exactly when we can see him,” he was saying. “Not an estimate. An exact time. My grandson was hurt. Because a man who shouldn’t have been within five hundred feet of him decided the rules didn’t apply to him today. I am done waiting for vague reassurances.”

The nurse didn’t flinch. To her credit. “Five more minutes, sir. They’re finishing the stitches now.”

My father turned, saw me watching, and something in his face softened a bit, the anger still not gone completely from his face, just redirected, banked for now in favour of crossing the room to put a hand on my shoulder.

“He’s going to be fine. You heard the doctor,” he said calmly.

“I know.”

“I just needed somewhere to put it.” Honestly, the way he was rarely honest about his own interior state.

1/3

Hospital Agam

The funy: I needed somewhere to put it that wasn’t you.”

Across the waiting room, Dante sat with Lake and Drew, both boys still pale, still shaken, Drew’s notebook recovered now and clutched against his chest like something solid to hold onto in a world that had stopped making sense for a few terrible minutes.

“Is Nick going to die?” Lake asked. Small. Direct, the way Lake was always direct, even now, even frightened.

No. He hit his head. It bled a lot because heads do that. He had small stitches here and there. The stiches will help the healing process. He might have a headache for a few days. And a cool scar to tell people about what happened. But he’s not going to die. I promise you that.”

Dante’s voice was gentle. Firm. No room left for doubt in it.

“What happened?” Drew asked. Quieter. Careful, the way Drew was always careful, even with the hardest questions. “Why did the grown-ups start fighting?”

Dante was quiet for a moment, choosing his words the way I’d watched Cameron choose words for Lake months ago.

“Nick’s dad is having a very hard time,” he said finally. “He made some choices that hurt people. It is disturbing when grown-ups make choices like that. Sometimes everything gets messy and scary very fast. It wasn’t your fault, or Nick’s fault, nor Lake’s fault. It’s the fault of the adult. Adults have to be responsible for the problems they caused. That’s what’s happening now.”

“Is he in trouble?” Lake asked.

“Yes, he’s in a lot of trouble and by the time I knew it Logan was already in the police custody.

I don’t remember who told me, Cameron, probably, his voice low and factual the way it always was when he needed to deliver something heavy without letting the weight of it derail what still needed doing. Witnesses at the park had given statements before any of us had even thought to ask anyone to call. The assault on Dante. The reckless endangerment of a minor.

I didn’t feel anything when Cameron told me. Not relief, not satisfaction. I was sitting with Nick’s small hand wrapped around mine in a hospital bed an hour later, and did not care what happened to Logan.

Adaeze arrived at the hospital just after seven. Still in the coat she’d clearly thrown on the moment Cameron’s call reached her.

She found me in the corridor outside Nick’s room. I’d stepped out briefly while the nurse checked his vitals.

“I came as soon as I heard it. How is he?”

“He’s going to be okay. He ha small concussion, stitches. They’re keeping him overnight for observation.”

She nodded. Same efficiency she always brought. Even now. Even here. “Sedona, I need to tell you something. I need you to hear it even though I know your only focus right now is Nick.”

I looked at her.

“This changes everything,” she said. “Immediately and completely. We had a strong case before today, the

2/3

Hospital Apert

financial trail, the cooperating witness, the stalking complaint, all of it building toward an undeniable pattern. But today, in front of witnesses, in a public park, Logan assaulted Dante and, in the process, caused serious injury to his own son. That’s not circumstantial anymore. That’s not something a defence attorney argues around with plausible deniability.” Her voice was steady, certain. “The custody case is over, Sedona. There is no version of February where any judge looks at today’s police report and grants Logan anything beyond, at most, heavily supervised contact, if that. This is the end of it.”

I should have felt something larger than Nelt, hearing that.

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