Your Uncle’s My Husband Now Back Off, Ex! novel Chapter 145

**Through Unseen Doors We Step Into Untold Worlds Beyond by Sage Hunter Lane**

**Chapter 145**

Damon’s face darkened, the shadows of his thoughts evident in the coldness of his voice. “Then check the surveillance footage around the hotel,” he instructed, his words clipped and deliberate, as if he were slicing through the tension in the air.

“Understood. I’ll get on it right away,” Spencer replied, urgency lacing his tone as he ended the call.

With a heavy heart, Damon turned his attention to Nyla, who was sitting nearby. Her voice emerged hoarsely, almost a whisper, “What’s the update? Have you figured out what happened?” There was a tremor in her words, reflecting her anxiety.

“Not yet, but it should be soon,” Damon reassured her, though he could feel the weight of uncertainty pressing down on them both.

Nyla nodded slowly, her gaze dropping to the floor. “Uncle Damon, I’m really grateful for your help today. It’s getting late, so you should go back. I’ll stay here,” she said, attempting to sound brave, but the tremor in her voice betrayed her.

Damon studied her intently. She was staring down, her hands tightly clenched into fists, and her body was still trembling slightly. The sight tugged at his heartstrings, and after a moment of silence, he made his decision. He sat down beside her, close enough that she could feel the warmth radiating from him.

“I’ll stay with you,” he said firmly, determination lacing his words.

Nyla remained silent, her thoughts consumed with a single prayer: that Valarie would be okay. The weight of the situation hung heavy in the air, wrapping around them like a shroud.

Before long, Valarie’s parents rushed in, their faces a mix of panic and concern. Upon hearing that Valarie had fallen while heading to celebrate Nyla’s birthday, Phoebe Shersby, Valarie’s mother, turned as cold as ice, her eyes narrowing with fury.

“I’m so sorry, Mr. and Mrs. Weir…” Nyla began, her voice trembling with remorse.

Phoebe, filled with a whirlwind of anger and despair, raised her hand as if to strike Nyla. Just as her hand was poised in the air, it was caught firmly by Damon, his grip unyielding.

Confronted by Damon’s cold and intimidating gaze, Phoebe flinched, a flicker of fear igniting in her heart. “Mrs. Weir, I understand your anxiety given the situation with Ms. Weir, but that doesn’t give you the right to lash out at others,” Damon said, his voice steady yet commanding.

Nyla, feeling the tension, spoke softly, “Uncle Damon, I’m okay. This happened because of me…” Her voice trailed off, guilt washing over her like a tide.

Damon turned to her, his expression stern. “Be quiet.” The authority in his voice silenced her, and she felt the weight of his protective nature enveloping her.

Valarie’s father, Jonathan Weir, quickly stepped in, noticing the barely contained anger radiating from Damon. “We don’t have all the details yet. You need to calm down,” he urged, his voice firm but laced with concern.

“What do you mean you can’t determine when she’ll wake up? Will my daughter… be in a coma?” Her voice was choked with emotion, each word a struggle to get out.

The doctor shook his head slowly, the weight of his words heavy. “We cannot say for certain at this time. We will monitor her in the intensive care unit for three days. If she does not awaken after that, the possibility of a vegetative state increases significantly.”

“Doctor, please, you must save my daughter. She’s so young…” Phoebe sobbed, her anguish palpable.

“That will depend on her own strength,” the doctor replied, his voice devoid of false hope.

Nyla felt disbelief wash over her, and she involuntarily stepped back. The thought that Valarie, someone she had spoken to just hours ago, might end up in such a state was unfathomable.

As she stood there, guilt and anguish swirling in her eyes, Damon recognized the depth of her remorse. His frown deepened, revealing the concern that lay beneath his tough exterior.

After Valarie was transferred to the ICU, Nyla followed closely behind, her heart racing with anxiety. Upon seeing her, Phoebe lunged at Nyla in a frenzied attempt to strike her once more.

Jonathan intervened swiftly, but not before Nyla’s face bore the mark of a stinging slap, a crimson handprint blooming on her pale skin. The pain was sharp, but it was nothing compared to the turmoil swirling around them.