His for a year. - Chapter 56: Chapter 56

My hands trembled at my sides.
Zade reached out, gently gripping them in his. “I promise I will not let anything happen to you. But you have to tell me everything. No more secrets. No more trying to handle things on your own.”
I stared at him, tears stinging the backs of my eyes. I nodded.
But even as I did, a horrible truth whispered itself in my head:
If David escaped, then someone helped him.
And if someone helped him…
That means this isn’t just about family anymore.
This is war.
My phone buzzed on the nightstand, breaking the silence like a slap.
I blinked, startled, then scrambled to grab it, expecting another update from Zade or the police.
But it was Aliyah.
I hesitated for half a second before answering. “Aliyah?”
“Olive, what’s happening?” Aliyah’s voice was shaking. “Why are there so many armed men here? They just walked into the building like they own the place—one even asked me to step aside while he checked the back hallway!”
My heart thumped hard. I got off the couch and pulled the curtain back slightly, peeking at the hallway where Zade had disappeared minutes ago. No sign of him yet.
“They’re with Zade,” I said quickly. “You're okay, right? You’re not hurt?”
“I’m fine but—Olive, this is insane. Is something going on? What’s happening?”
I closed my eyes for a second. “I promise I’ll tell you everything soon. Just… be careful. Stay away from David. And Amanda. Especially Amanda. Don’t talk to anyone about me, not even people you think you trust.”
There was a pause. “Why? What’s going on?”
“I—I can’t explain now. Just trust me. Please.”
Aliyah sounded like she wanted to argue, but she didn’t. “Okay. But you’ll call me, right?”
“I will. As soon as I can.”
We ended the call, and for a second I just stood there, trying to breathe, trying to keep from shaking.
Then my phone buzzed again.
But this time it wasn’t a call.
It was a message from a private number.
“Count your days.”
My lungs froze.
No name. No punctuation. Just those three words, like a noose tightening around her neck.
My thumb hovered over the screen. Then I spun around and rushed into the hallway.
Zade was still there, speaking to one of the hospital guards and gesturing toward the camera at the stairwell.
“Zade!”
He turned immediately. His eyes scanned my face before settling on the phone in my hand.
I handed it to him without a word.
He read the message, and his jaw clenched. “They’re getting bolder.”
My voice was small. “It is David, isn't it?”
“Or Amanda. Or someone working for them. Either way, it means they’re watching.”
“Zade, what if—”
He cut me off, already turning to the security team. “I want three men on this floor, two on the stairwell, and one guarding the elevators. Nobody gets in or out unless they’re verified and cleared by me directly.”
“Yes sir,” the lead replied.
Zade turned back to me, his eyes burning with protective fury. “This place isn’t safe anymore. We need to move your mom to a private facility. Somewhere only a handful of people know. Somewhere I can control everything.”
“No,” I said immediately.
He blinked. “Olive—”
“I said no. You’re not moving her.”
“She’s not safe here—”
“She’s not safe in an ambulance either!” My voice cracked. “She’s fragile. What if something goes wrong during the transfer? What if she reacts badly to the movement? Or they remove her from the machines too fast—what if she dies on the way?”
He stepped closer. “You think I’d let that happen?”
My throat tightened. “I don’t want her moved. I don’t want to take that chance. Not now. Please, Zade. Please.”
He looked at me, then exhaled sharply and ran a hand through his hair. “Fine. But I’m doubling security. Armed guards inside and outside this room. You don’t open the door unless it’s me or someone you recognize, and by that I mean Aliyah or Jake.”
“I won’t.”
He stared at me a moment longer, his gaze searching mine like he wanted to say something else—something deeper—but held it back.
Just then, the guards began arriving.
Six of them. Silent, alert, moving like trained shadows as they took their positions. One outside the door. One by the window. Another by the hallway entrance. One checked the emergency power supply. Another swept the bathroom. The last stood at the foot of my mother’s bed, eyes alert, hand resting on his weapon like he wouldn’t hesitate.
I couldn’t breathe.
The room no longer felt like a hospital.
It felt like a war bunker.
Zade leaned in close. “I have to go. The police need me at the station to work through David’s digital trail. They’re pulling surveillance from earlier today.”
“Zade…” my voice faltered.
He looked at me, eyes steady. “Don’t hide anything from me, Olive. I mean it this time. If anything feels off—even the smallest thing—I need to know.”
I nodded slowly. “Okay.”
He touched my chin, then kissed my forehead. “Don’t leave this room. I don’t care if the fire alarm goes off, you stay put. I’ll send someone if anything happens.”
I nodded again.
Then he turned, gave the guards one last look, and walked out the door.
The heavy latch clicked behind him.
And once again, I was left in silence.
Except it wasn’t silence anymore.
It was suffocating stillness.
The kind that presses against your chest.
The kind that makes you wonder who’s coming for you next.
I hadn’t even caught my breath when my phone buzzed again. Another call.
Amanda.
My thumb hovered over the screen, trembling. For a moment, I debated letting it ring out. I didn’t want to hear her voice. Not after everything. Not after what she did.
But I answered.
“Olive,” she said breathlessly, like we were still friends. Like everything between us hadn’t shattered.
I said nothing.
“Are you okay?” she continued. “I just heard about David. He escaped. He came to me. He said… he said he was coming for you. I didn’t know what to do. I swear I didn’t—”
“Don’t,” I said, my voice low and cold. “Don’t you dare lie to me.”
She was quiet.
“I know you were working with him,” I said. “You and David. You’re the reason he found me in the first place. You gave him information, Amanda. You—God, you let him into my life again.”
“I didn’t mean for it to go this far,” she whispered. “I didn’t know he’d hurt you. I didn’t know he’d—”
“You didn’t care,” I cut in. “You were jealous. You wanted to ruin me.”
“I was angry!” she burst out. “You were living this perfect life with Zade. Marrying into money, acting like everything’s fine while I was—”
“That marriage is not what you think it is,” I snapped before I could stop myself. My breath caught. Dammit.
Amanda went silent for a beat too long.
“Oh,” she said slowly. “So you really are living in shit?”
I closed my eyes. Too late.
“You really signed a contract to suffer just like that?” she asked, voice laced with something venomous. “God, Olive. That’s low, even for you.”
“You don’t get to talk about morals,” I said, shaking with fury. “Not when you’re literally conspiring with a psychopath.”
“He’s your brother,” Amanda said.
“No,” I said flatly. “You joined hands with worse.”
The line went dead.
I stood there frozen, bile rising in my throat. My fingers tightened around the phone until my knuckles ached.
I wanted to throw it. Scream. Break something.
But instead, I sat on the edge of my mother’s bed, curling my fingers around hers, reminding myself why I had to keep it together.
Because she was still breathing. Because Aliyah was still safe. Because Zade was still trying.
Because I didn’t come this far to break now.
The soft hum of the hospital machines and the slow, steady beeping of my mother’s monitor were the only reminders that time was still moving.
I stood by the window, arms crossed tightly over her chest, watching as Zade’s black car disappeared around the corner, flanked by two SUVs filled with security. The quiet buzz of movement echoed faintly from the hallway—guards shifting, nurses going about their routine—but it all felt distant, wrapped in cotton.
I turned back to my mother’s bed. The way her chest rose and fell slowly beneath the sheets made me feel like she could finally breathe again, but just barely. A storm was building, I could feel it in my bones.
A knock startled me.
I turned quickly. One of the guards—new, young, maybe early twenties—stood at the door. “Ma’am, is everything alright?”
I blinked, nodding. “Yes. Thank you.”
But the way his eyes scanned the room… not nosy, just alert, assessing. It made my skin prickle.
“Zade said to keep two of us posted at all times near this room,” the guard added. “We’ll rotate in four-hour shifts. If you need anything—water, food, or just someone to walk you down the hallway—press that button.” He pointed to the red call button beside my mother’s bed. “We’ll come immediately.”
I forced a small, grateful smile. “Thanks. What’s your name?”
“Ezra,” he said with a polite nod, then stepped back out, leaving the door slightly ajar.
The soft buzz of my phone pulled me back to the present.
The hospital fell into quiet. That kind of quiet that made my skin itch, made my fingers twitch against the scratchy cotton blanket on my lap. The fluorescent lights buzzed faintly above, flickering once, then again, like they were struggling to stay awake.
My mom was still. Her chest rose and fell beneath the thin sheet, the machines around her beeping in gentle rhythm. Each beep meant she was still here. Still fighting.
I reached out and adjusted the blanket tucked around her, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear like she used to do to Aliyah when we were little. Her skin was warm. That gave me something.
It was supposed to be a calm night. Zade had sent extra guards to the hospital today, just in case. Ray checked in every hour. I wasn’t supposed to worry.
But then came the noise.
It started low. A muffled shout from the hallway.
Then footsteps.
Then chaos.