Please Come Back, My Love novel Chapter 20

Please Come Back, My Love

Chapter 20

Alexander: POV

I looked down at the woman in my arms, her face pale and fragile against my chest, and my breath caught.

Fuck.

For a second–just one heartbreaking second–she looked exactly like Elisa.

Same delicate bone structure. Same way her lashes cast shadows on her cheeks. Same expression of exhausted vulnerability that made something in my chest crack wide open.

I’d spent years trying to forget that face. Years telling myself I’d done the right thing by dream about her every goddamn night.

And here I was, holding someone who looked so much like her it physically hurt.

Walking away. Years pretending I didn’t still

“Mr. Sterling?” My assistant, David Miller, appeared at my elbow, his eyes widening. “Is she-”

“She’s been drugged,” I said, my voice harsher than I intended. “Get the car. Now.”

David sprinted toward the alley entrance.

I adjusted my grip, cradling her closer. She was burning up, the drug making her temperature spike. Her hands clutched weakly at

my jacket, and she mumbled something I couldn’t quite catch.

“I knew you’d come…”

The words hit me like a punch to the gut. That’s exactly what Elisa used to say–every time I showed up at her door, every time I convinced her to let me help with her art projects. “I knew you’d come for me, Alex.”

But I hadn’t come for Elisa in the end, had I?

Twenty

years ago

I was just a teenager when I met Elisa Hunt–who looked to be in her twenties–who saved my life and became my first love. She was trapped in an abusive marriage, and I was just a lovesick teenager who visited her under the pretense of needing art lessons.

My family discovered my “obsession and sent me away to boarding school. By the time I had the power to find her again, she was dead–killed by the very husband I’d been too young and powerless to save her from.

I’d failed to protect the first woman I ever loved.

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14:52 Fri, Jun 12

Chapter 20

When her husband found out about my visits, when my family threatened to cut me off and destroy her reputation completely. I’d walked away. I’d chosen the fucking family name over the woman I loved.

Elisa used to curl into me just like this during those stolen moments in her art studio–when the nightmares got bad, when her husband’s abuse left her shaking and broken,

I shoved the memories down as David pulled up in my Aston Martin. I slid into the back seat, keeping the woman secure in my lap

“NewYork–Presbyterian,” I ordered. “And find out everything about her.”

Elena stirred against me, her face pressing into my neck. Her breath was hot against my skin, and she made a small, distressed

sound.

“Shh,” I murmured, running my hand down her back. “Easy. You’re safe now.”

She burrowed deeper into my arms, seeking warmth or comfort. Her fingers tangled in my shirt, holding on like I was the only solid

thing in a spinning world.

“Hurts,” Elena whispered, her voice slurred. “Everything hurts…”

“I know.” I held her tighter. “Just hang on a little longer.”

She nodded against my chest, then went still again. Too still.

“Drive faster,” I snapped at David.

The ER staff moved quickly when they saw me carrying an unconscious woman. Within minutes, Elena was on a gurney, being

wheeled toward examination rooms.

“I’m

coming with her,” I said when a nurse tried to stop me.

“Sir, only family-

“I’m her uncle, I

lied

smoothly. “And I’m not leaving her alone.”

The nurse hesitated, then nodded. “This way.”

My phone buzzed. David, with information.

I stepped into the hallway to read his message, and the words on the screen made my blood run cold.

Elena Vance. Age 26. Fashion designer at Sterling Conglomerate. Adopted daughter of Margaret Vance, head housekeeper

HE

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