He Never Loved Me Until the Day I Finally Left Him novel Chapter 366

Only then did the suffocating grip on his chest loosen by a fraction.

"I suggest you step out to minimize the risk of cross-infection. The moment her status changes, you'll be the first to know," the doctor advised quietly.

Sebastian gave a curt nod and didn't linger any longer than necessary.

He turned on his heel and strode smoothly out of the sterile ward.

Just as the heavy doors sealed behind him, his phone buzzed violently in his pocket.

The caller ID flashed Janetta's name.

This time, he completely ignored the call.

He stood rooted outside the glass partition for an agonizingly long time, like a man carved from stone.

Janetta's relentless calls kept flooding his screen.

He finally shut the device off entirely.

The obnoxious vibrating came to an abrupt, satisfying halt.

He lost track of time, anchored to the spot until a nurse practically jogged out of the unit.

"Mr. Hayes, she's conscious," the nurse delivered the update with a breath of relief.

A low grunt vibrated in his throat.

Muscle memory commanded his feet to move straight toward her room.

But mere inches from the door, an invisible barrier stopped him dead in his tracks.

"Are you heading in?" the nurse asked, pausing with her hand on the handle.

He dropped his gaze to the pristine floor tiles, taking a long beat before answering. "No. I'll wait until she's transferred to a standard room."

"Understood," the nurse nodded politely.

She slipped back inside, leaving him alone with his demons.

Through the surveillance feed stationed outside, he locked his eyes on Helena's frail form.

She was terrifyingly quiet.

Her complexion possessed a ghostly, translucent pallor.

A bizarre, tangled emotion seized his chest—something he couldn't put a name to—so he settled for just passively staring at the screen.

Perhaps Beau had nailed it perfectly.

After sharing a bed and a life for seven turbulent years, it was biologically impossible for him to feel absolutely nothing.

She wasn't just a pawn; she was a flesh-and-blood woman who had breathed life into his darkest corners.

After all the collateral damage they had racked up.

Staring at her tiny, fluttering chest, the ice in his veins began to thaw, revealing the flawed, mortal man underneath.

Words abandoned him; he merely stood vigil.

"Mr. Hayes, I've run the legal timelines. The absolute fastest we can execute the grandfather's inheritance transfer is ten days. The medical team confirmed the infant can survive on life support for that duration without undergoing the risky surgery," the lawyer reported mechanically.

It was a brutally sterile assessment of a life.

"However, waiting those ten days significantly diminishes her surgical success rate. The doctors suspect she won't even survive a month without it. But dragging her into the OR at this weight drastically increases the mortality risk. It's highly probable she'll die on the table. So, it's your call..."

The lawyer callously tossed the child's execution order into his lap.

"If the infant perishes, it legally qualifies as an accidental death. Under the grandfather's strict clauses, you would be forced to remain legally married to your wife for another five agonizing years before the shares vest," the lawyer elaborated, spelling out the trap.

It essentially meant his toxic warfare with Helena would be violently extended.

But looking at the smoking crater of their marriage, they wouldn't survive another five months, let alone five years.

"Unless, of course, your wife also suffers an unfortunate... accident. In that grim scenario, the will mandates you maintain a strictly single status for three years to claim the estate."

The lawyer laid out every morbid contingency like a spread of tarot cards.

His grandfather had engineered a brilliant legal fortress to protect Helena at all costs.

The old man had used his dying breath and his unimaginable wealth to forcefully weld their failing marriage together.

Too bad all his meddling had only managed to trigger a devastating explosion.