Please Come Back, My Love novel Chapter 372

Please Come Back, My Love

Chapter 372

Sophia’s POV

The Next Morning

The nightmare came in fragments–sharp, disjointed flashes shat felt more like memory than dream.

Blood pooling on white tile. My mother’s hand, pale and still. The acridell of hospital disinfectant mixing with something metallic and wrong.

I jerked awake with a gasp, my heart hammering violently. Sweat soaked through my nightshirt, and for several disorienting seconds I couldn’t remember where I was.

Then I saw the unfamiliar ceiling, felt the too–soft mattress beneath me, and remembered.

Lucas’s safehouse. My prison.

I pressed a hand to my chest, trying to ease the tightness that made each breath feel insufficient. The baby fluttered–a strange, fish–like movement that was becoming more frequent–and I instinctively moved my hand lower.

Just a dream, I told myself. Mom is fine. She’s at home with Dad, probably making breakfast right now, worrying about me like she always does.

But the tightness in my chest wouldn’t ease. I reached for my phone on the nightstand, needing to hear my mother’s voice even if it meant Lucas would know I’d broken his rules about outside contact.

The screen lit up with notifications. Dozens of them.

News alerts. Text messages. Missed calls.

My hands started shaking before I even opened the first one.

BREAKING: Rosa Cruz, 58, hospitalized in critical condition following severe asthma attack-

The phone slipped from my fingers, clattering onto the hardwood floor.

No. No, no, no.

I lunged for it, nearly toppling off the bed. My shin cracked against the nightstand as I scrambled to retrieve the phone.

NewYork–Presbyterian Hospital… critical condition… sources say the attack was severe…

The words blurred together, impossible to process. I scrolled frantically through the other notifications, looking for something–anything–that would tell me this was a mistake.

I forced myself down the rest of the stairs, moving more carefully but no less desperately. My retrieved phone screen was spiderwebbed with cracks, but it still worked.

The front door loomed ahead, solid oak and probably locked. I didn’t care.

I was reaching for the handle when two security guards materialized from the side hallway, moving to block my path.

“Miss Cruz.” The taller one held up one placating hand. “I’m going to need you to step back from the door.”

“My mother is in the hospital.” My voice came out raw, barely recognizable. “I need to see her. I need to- The words caught in my throat. “Please. Just let me go.”

“We have our orders, ma’am.” His expression was sympathetic but immovable,, “I’m calling Mr. Reynolds now.”

“Fuck your orders!” I lunged for the door handle, knowing it was futile but unable to stop myself.

He caught my arm–gently, but firmly–while his partner pulled out his phone.

“Mr. Reynolds? Yes, sir. Miss Cruz is attempting to leave the property. She’s quite distressed. Yes, sir. Understood.”

He ended the call and looked at me with something that might have been pity.