Chapter 30
The soft hum of hospital machinery filled the room as Emma rested on the adjustable bed, her hand absently tracing small circles over her belly. She was lost in thought, her mind a storm of emotions. Between Luka’s relentless attacks and Alex’s deafening silence, she felt like she was standing on the edge of a cliff with no clear way forward.
Her sanctuary at Thomas’s penthouse had been a brief reprieve, but she had returned to the hospital for another round of monitoring. The twins were still fragile, and every checkup felt like a battle between hope and fear.
The sound of the door creaking open pulled her from her thoughts. She turned her head, expecting to see a nurse or Thomas with another warm meal and reassuring smile. Instead, she froze.
He stood in the doorway, his imposing frame casting a shadow across the sterile hospital room. The fluorescent lights illuminated his perfectly tailored suit, but it couldn’t hide the tension radiating from him. His jaw was clenched tight, and his hands were shoved deep into his pockets, as if to anchor him. The familiar gray eyes that had once held so much warmth were now stormy, their chill sending a ripple of unease through the room.
“Alex,” Emma said softly, her voice catching between relief and wariness. She had spent weeks imagining this moment, crafting every possible scenario in her mind. None of them prepared her for the man standing before her now.
He didn’t respond right away. Instead, he stepped further inside, letting the door close behind him with a muted click. His movements were deliberate, his every step heavy with purpose. The silence stretched taut between them, broken only by the faint hum of the machines monitoring her.
“Hello, Emma,” he finally said, his voice clipped and devoid of emotion. “It’s been a while.”
Emma’s heart sank at his detached tone. She straightened in bed, her fingers gripping the blanket tightly. “I wasn’t sure if you’d come.”
“I’m here now,” Alex said flatly, his gaze sweeping the room before settling on her. “We need to talk.”
Her chest tightened at the words. She had imagined so many things he might say—apologies, explanations, promises. But the coldness in his tone struck her like a blow.
“Alright,” she said cautiously, forcing herself to meet his eyes. “What’s on your mind?”
Alex’s lips pressed into a thin line as he pulled a chair closer to her bed. The weight of unspoken words filled the space between them, the moment crackling with tension.
He didn’t sit down. Instead, he paced the length of the room, his movements restless. He had rehearsed this conversation a dozen times on the drive over, but now that he was here, facing her, the words felt like shards of glass in his throat.
“I’ve been thinking,” he began, his voice deliberately calm, measured, and distant.
Emma’s heart skipped, unease tightening her chest. “About what?” she asked, her voice tentative, afraid of the answer.
“About everything that’s happened,” Alex said, beginning to pace. “About us.”
The knot in Emma’s stomach grew. “And?”
Alex stopped abruptly and turned to face her. His expression was unreadable, his hands still shoved deep into his pockets. The silence that followed felt agonizing, stretching far too long.
“This… whatever we’re trying to salvage—it isn’t working.”
The words struck her like a physical blow. Emma’s breath hitched, her lips parting as her mind struggled to process what he had just said. “What are you talking about?” she asked, her voice trembling. “Alex, we’ve been under attack from every direction. Of course things are hard right now, but—”
He held up a hand, his sharp gesture cutting her off mid-sentence. “Stop,” he said, his tone harsh. “This isn’t about the Diaz family, or the media, or even the twins. This is about us—about who we are together, and more importantly, about who we’re not.”
Emma’s chest tightened, her heart pounding painfully. “You don’t mean that,” she whispered, her voice breaking slightly.
Alex’s jaw tightened, and he forced himself to maintain the icy mask he had put on. “I do,” he said, the words stabbing him as deeply as they did her.
“We were a mistake from the start, Emma,” he continued, his tone growing colder. “A contract disguised as a marriage. You wanted stability. I needed an ally. That’s all this ever was.”
The shock in Emma’s eyes was unbearable, but Alex steeled himself, refusing to look away.
“How can you say that?” she said, her voice cracking. “After everything we’ve been through—everything we’ve built together—you’re reducing it to a transaction?”
He felt something break inside him at her words, but he shoved the feeling down, burying it beneath the lies he had rehearsed.
“Yes,” he said firmly, his voice as cold and unyielding as steel. “That’s exactly what I’m doing. Because that’s exactly what it was. A transaction. You and I—we were convenient for each other. That’s all it ever was, and that’s all it’ll ever be.”
Emma stared at him, disbelief and pain etched into every feature of her face. Her hands shook as she clutched the blanket draped over her lap, desperate to anchor herself against the storm of emotions threatening to drown her.
“You don’t believe that,” she whispered, her voice cracking under the weight of her emotions. “I know you don’t.”
“Do you?” Alex shot back, his tone cold, almost cruel. He took a step closer, his imposing frame casting a shadow over her. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you’ve already moved on.”
Her brows furrowed in confusion. “What are you talking about?”
“Thomas,” he said sharply, his name a blade between them. “Don’t act clueless, Emma. The whole world has seen the pictures—your smiles, the way you look at him. You look happier with him than you ever did with me.”
Emma’s hands shook as she gripped the edge of the bed for balance, her breath hitching.
“That’s not fair,” she said, her voice rising, her hurt spilling over. “Thomas has been a friend—a support system. Something I desperately needed when you weren’t there.”
“And maybe that’s the point,” Alex snapped, his words laced with venom. “Maybe you don’t need me anymore. Maybe you never did.”
His words slammed into her like a blow. Tears finally spilled over, streaking her cheeks, but she refused to look away from him. Her voice dropped, trembling but steady.
“Why are you doing this?” she asked, her words soft but cutting. “Why are you trying so hard to hurt me?”
Alex swallowed hard, his composure slipping for just a moment. Her pain was a mirror to his own, but he buried the ache deep, forcing himself to stay the course.
“Because it’s the truth,” he said, his tone colder than before.
Emma flinched, her voice rising with anger now. “The truth? You’re lying to me, Alex. I can see it in your eyes.”
Alex’s chest tightened, but he refused to relent. “I’m not good for you, Emma. I never was,” he said, his words sharper, harsher, as if he were punishing himself with every syllable. “And now, with everything happening, I’m just a liability. You’re better off without me.”
Her tears turned to fury, her grief igniting into a blazing fire.
“So that’s it?” she spat, her voice shaking with rage. “You’re walking away because it’s easier than fighting for us? For me? For our family?”
Alex froze, her words like daggers piercing his carefully constructed facade. The mention of the twins almost undid him, but he forced himself to stay composed, to keep the walls up.
“This isn’t about what’s easy,” he said, his voice low but resolute. “It’s about what’s right. And the right thing is for us to end this—for good.”
Emma stared at him, her chest heaving with the weight of her anger and heartbreak. “You’re a coward,” she said, her voice shaking but unyielding. “You’re not protecting me. You’re protecting yourself because you’re too afraid to face what we’ve built, too scared to fix what’s broken.”
Alex clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms. Every word she said cut through him, but he couldn’t falter now.
Emma felt like the ground was crumbling beneath her. She had been through so much—nearly losing her life, being attacked by the Diaz family, enduring relentless public scrutiny—and through it all, she had held onto the hope that Alex would come back to her. That he would fight for their family.
But now, that hope was slipping away.
“If that’s what you really want,” she said, her voice shaking, “then fine. I won’t fight you. But I want you to say it, Alex. I want you to look me in the eye and tell me you don’t love me anymore.”
Alex froze. For a moment, the mask cracked, and Emma thought she saw a flash of something—guilt, pain, regret. But then he straightened, his expression hardening once more.
“I don’t love you,” he said, his voice flat.
Emma felt her heart shatter into a thousand pieces. She didn’t say anything, couldn’t say anything. She simply looked away, her tears falling silently onto the bedsheets.
“You’re lying,” she said, her voice trembling but resolute.
“I’m not,” Alex replied, forcing the lie to sound natural. “I’m telling you the truth. And the truth is, this needs to end—for good.”
Her chest heaved, and her eyes glistened with tears she refused to let fall. “If you’re so sure about that,” she said, her voice shaking with fury and heartbreak, “then why are you even here?”
He hesitated, the smallest crack appearing in his facade. For a fraction of a second, his mask wavered, but he quickly schooled his features into the cold indifference he had fought so hard to maintain.
“Because I wanted to be honest with you,” he said, each word cutting him as much as it did her.
Alex turned and walked to the door, his movements stiff and mechanical. He paused with his hand on the handle, his back to her.
“Goodbye, Emma,” he said, his voice hollow, as he walked out of the room, leaving her with her shattered heart and his own breaking in silence.
And then he was gone.
The door closed with a muted click, leaving Emma alone in the sterile hospital room, heart in ruins. Her tears spilled over now, hot and silent as they traced down her cheeks. She clutched her stomach protectively, as if anchoring herself to the twins—the only part of Alex she still had.
In the hallway, Alex leaned against the wall, his head hanging low. The weight of what he had done pressed down on him like an unbearable burden. He had convinced himself it was the right thing to do—that Emma and their baby would be safer without him in their lives. But it didn’t feel like a victory to him.
It felt like the end of everything.
________________
