His for a year. - Chapter 57: Chapter 57

Shouts erupted outside the door. A loud bang, like someone had slammed into the wall. I jumped to my feet, backing away from my mother’s bed. My breath hitched as more footsteps thudded, then boots scraping against the tiled floor, and the unmistakable sound of someone yelling, "Stand down!"
I rushed to the corner of the room, heart hammering. What was happening? Had someone gotten in? Were they here for me?
A crash. Glass? I wrapped my arms around myself, trying not to scream. I wanted to run, but I couldn’t leave her.
It felt like forever.
And then silence.
Everything stopped. Just the machines beeping again, like the chaos had been some kind of hallucination. I tiptoed toward the door, my hand shaking as I reached for the handle—
The door burst open.
I gasped.
But it was a guard. One of Zade’s. His face was flushed, and he had a gash on his lip.
“Miss Trevor,” he said, breathless. “You’re okay. Everything’s okay now.”
“What happened?” My voice cracked.
“Someone triggered the alarms and baited the team into thinking it was a threat. But we checked the security feed. It was staged. There’s no break-in. No threat. Someone was... playing a game.”
My knees buckled slightly. I caught the edge of the table and forced myself to breathe. “A game?”
He nodded. “We’ll double-check the perimeter. But it looks like... they just wanted to scare you.”
That’s when my phone buzzed on the chair.
I walked to it slowly, like it might bite me.
One message.
Anna.
"That was just a taste. I like seeing your fear. It’s entertaining. Don’t bore me."
I didn’t blink.
My fingers trembled. A chill spread through my body, starting from the base of my neck and trickling like cold ink down my spine. My knees buckled, and I sank slowly into the chair beside my mother’s hospital bed. Her monitor beeped steadily, unaware of the chaos rippling through me.
I locked my phone screen like that would lock Anna out. Out of the hospital. Out of my life. Out of my head. But it didn’t work—of course it didn’t. The shadows in the corners of the room now felt alive, like they were watching me, mocking me for believing I was ever safe.
How did she get that close? Was she outside? In the building? Had she orchestrated the whole commotion just to mess with me?
My hands curled into fists, nails digging into my palms. Anger warred with fear inside me like fire meeting ice, and I hated that she was winning—that she always seemed to be one step ahead. That she knew exactly how to get to me. And the worst part? She enjoyed it.
Entertained. That word gnawed at me like teeth scraping bone.
I looked at my mom. Her face was so peaceful, too peaceful. If she were awake, she’d have known exactly what to say. She’d always had a way of grounding me with just a touch. Just one look. Even at her weakest, she’d have told me to breathe, to stay calm, to remember who I was. But all I had now were the machines keeping time with her heartbeat and the suffocating silence of a room filled with too many secrets.
I unlocked my phone again and stared at the message, hoping for more—anything. But Anna was done for now. She’d said what she wanted to say. She’d planted the seed, and now she was going to watch it grow inside me.
I wanted to cry, but the tears wouldn’t come. Instead, my face stayed frozen, stiff and aching. I hated the part of me that wished Zade was here. That wanted him to hold me, to tell me Anna was bluffing. That it was all just noise and posturing.
But Zade wasn’t here.
And Anna wasn’t bluffing.
A soft knock came at the door, and I jumped.
The guard from before peeked in again, his face drawn. “Ms. Trevor? I’ve informed Mr. Lloyd. Extra patrols are on their way. But, um… they didn’t find anyone. Just an empty stairwell and this.”
He handed me a small piece of glossy paper, like a business card. But it wasn’t a card. It was a photograph—blurry, printed from a phone. My heart sank.
It was me. Sitting exactly where I was now. Same angle. Same posture. Taken from outside the hospital window.
Whoever had taken it was close. Very close.
“I’m sorry,” the guard added. “We didn’t see anyone near your window. The cameras… were tampered with.”
Of course they were.
I clutched the photo tightly. My breathing quickened, and I looked down at my mother as if she might wake up and fix this. She didn’t move.
I swallowed. Hard.
I had to stay sane. I had to protect her. I had to stay ahead of Anna.
Even if it meant doing the one thing I was starting to fear more than her threats: trusting Zade.
But first, I needed answers.
And if Anna was watching—I’d give her a show.
Night blanketed the city like a heavy coat, quiet and cold. The lights outside the hospital window flickered like distant stars, and the hum of machines surrounded me in a lullaby of unease. Every beep from my mother’s monitor reminded me she was still here—still fighting—but it didn’t calm me like it should have. Not after Anna's message. Not after the photo. Not after the guards admitted someone had been that close.
Nurses came in at intervals, soft-spoken and gentle. They checked vitals, adjusted fluids, scribbled on charts. One of them—a kind-eyed woman with silver hoops—told me, “She’s responding well. Her stats are stabilizing. She’s on the right path.”
I smiled, but it barely reached my lips. I wanted to believe her. I needed to believe her.
When they left, I pulled out my phone and hesitated for a moment before calling Aliyah.
She picked up on the third ring. “Liv?”
Her voice cracked. She sounded tired—young. Younger than I’d ever heard her, even though she was already younger than me.
“Hey,” I said softly. “Are you okay?”
“I guess,” she whispered. “Zade’s guards are here… one of them even stayed by the door while I showered. I feel like a prisoner.”
“I’m sorry,” I murmured. My throat felt tight. “I know this sucks, but you need to listen to them, okay? Don’t leave the house. Not for anything. Cooperate with the guards, no arguments.”
She was silent for a moment, then said, “Olive… what did we get into?”
The question hung heavy between us. She didn’t mean it cruelly. She meant it like a child would ask when they realize the world is darker than they thought.
I closed my eyes. “I don’t know. But I promise I’m doing everything I can to keep you safe. To keep us all safe.”
“I hate this,” she whispered. “I miss Mom.”
“She’s doing better,” I said, almost as if it would make it more true. “They said she’s stabilizing.”
“Good.” Her voice cracked again. “I don’t want to lose her too.”
That did it. My eyes burned, and a tear escaped before I could stop it. “You won’t,” I whispered. “You won’t, Aliyah.”
“Okay,” she said, quieter now. “I’ll stay in. I promise.”
We exchanged a few more soft words before hanging up. I stared at my mom again, trying to believe all the promises I was making.
And then… the door opened.
Zade.
His presence filled the room like a shadow—tall, dark, and worn. His shirt was wrinkled at the collar, and he looked like he hadn’t rested in days. His eyes scanned the room before locking onto me. Behind him, the guards stood at attention, one stepping forward to whisper something.
Zade listened. Nodded. His jaw flexed.
When the guard stepped away, Zade shut the door and crossed to me in two strides. He knelt in front of me and gently took my hand. His fingers were rough, warm, grounding.
“Are you okay?” he asked quietly.
I nodded, but it wasn’t convincing even to me. “I… I’m fine. Just shaken.”
His thumb brushed over my knuckles. “They told me what happened. I’m sorry I wasn’t here.”
“It’s not your fault,” I said. “But—” I hesitated. “It’s getting worse, isn’t it?”
He looked at my mother’s bed, his jaw clenching again. “This hospital is compromised.”
I didn’t argue.
He went on, “We need to move her. I’ve already arranged everything. A private medical facility. High-security. She’ll be safe. You’ll be safe.”
I hesitated again. My heart clenched at the thought of moving her—of disrupting her peace. But the photo, the tampered cameras, Anna’s voice in my head… It could have been so much worse.
I nodded. Slowly, but I did. “Okay. Let’s move her.”
Relief flashed across his face for just a second before his expression hardened again. Protective. Angry.
And underneath it all—determined.
He stood, reaching for his phone and giving an order to begin preparations.
As I watched him from behind, I realized something else.
This wasn’t just about security anymore.
Zade’s phone was already to his ear, his voice low but firm as he stepped into the hallway. I sat there in the stillness, watching my mom sleep, or maybe drift—her chest rising gently beneath the hospital blanket. She looked peaceful, like nothing had happened. Like Anna hadn’t whispered threats into the silence. Like fear hadn’t become my new normal.
A soft knock sounded and two nurses entered with quiet smiles. “We were told to begin preparing her for transfer,” one said gently.
I nodded, rising from my seat. “Please be careful with her,” I said, though I knew I didn’t need to. My voice came out softer than I meant it to, almost pleading.
“We will,” the other nurse assured me, and they began unhooking her IVs and stabilizing her oxygen flow.
Zade returned minutes later with two of his personal guards behind him, one pushing a sleek, black wheelchair. “The van is ready. We’ll go out the back. Low visibility.”
I swallowed, forcing a breath into my lungs. “Okay.”
The transfer was seamless—like it had been rehearsed. The nurses moved quickly, securing my mother with padded straps and a mobile heart monitor. The guards flanked her as if she were royalty. No sirens, no flashing lights. Just a quiet, cold ride through the night as Zade held my hand in the backseat while I stared at my mother’s unmoving face.
It took less than twenty minutes to reach the private facility.
It looked more like a boutique hotel than a hospital—tall glass walls, soft ambient lighting, and a concierge desk behind a frosted partition. The place was silent except for the low hum of machines and the occasional squeak of rubber soles on polished marble. Zade had clearly spared no expense.
They wheeled my mom into a high-security room on the third floor. A full medical team was already waiting, dressed in navy-blue scrubs, armed with charts, scans, and silent precision. I followed her bed in until they asked me to wait in the lounge.
Zade led me there quietly, then poured me a glass of water from the minibar. I didn’t drink it. I couldn’t. My stomach was a tight knot of exhaustion, fear, and guilt.
“She’ll be okay here,” he finally said. “This place is run by my family’s private network. No one gets in unless I say so.”
“Okay,” I murmured. My voice felt brittle.
He sat beside me. For a moment, we just stared at the wall, the silence thick with everything that had happened.
Then I whispered, “What if Anna gets worse?”
“She will,” Zade said. “But so will I.”
I turned to him slowly. “What does that mean?”
His gaze was like a cold fire. “It means she picked the wrong person to threaten.”
And for the first time since the commotion started, I saw something new in his face. Not just anger. Not just control.
Vengeance.
I nodded faintly. I believed him.
“Can I sleep here tonight?” I asked after a beat.
Zade’s brow furrowed. “You’re not safe out in the open anymore.”
“I meant… here. In the hospital. With her.”
He paused. Then nodded. “I’ll have a room prepared down the hall.”
I wanted to say thank you, but the words wouldn’t come. So instead, I leaned into the silence, letting it hold me.
Later that night, when I finally lay on the hospital couch beneath a soft throw blanket, I watched the ceiling and listened to the muted beeps next door.
Even with all the security in the world, I knew one thing for sure.
I wasn’t just fighting for my mother anymore.
I was fighting a ghost in my marriage.
And she had Anna’s smile.