Elena's POV
Twenty minutes.
I had twenty minutes before Adrian Blackwell walked into this hospital and my entire world collapsed.
I paced the ICU waiting room like a caged animal. My hands wouldn't stop shaking. My heart raced so fast I wondered if I'd need a doctor too.
What had I done?
"Elena, sit down before you pass out." Maya grabbed my arm and pulled me into a chair. "You're pale as a ghost."
"He's coming here." The words came out in a panic. "Adrian is coming here, and when he sees Ethan—"
"He'll see a sick little boy who needs his help," Maya finished firmly. "That's all he needs to see right now."
But she didn't understand. Nobody could understand unless they'd looked into Ethan's face every single day for four years and seen Adrian Blackwell staring back.
The dark curls. The stubborn chin. Those eyes—God, those eyes were exactly like his father's.
One look. That's all it would take. One look at Ethan, and Adrian would know.
"Maybe I should leave," I said suddenly, standing up. "Maybe I should take Ethan and go to another hospital—"
"And let him die?" Maya's voice was sharp. "Because that's what will happen, Elena. You heard Dr. Winters. Ethan needs surgery now, and this is the only place that can do it."
She was right. I knew she was right. But knowing didn't make the terror any easier.
I checked on Ethan through the ICU window. He was sleeping again, surrounded by machines that beeped and hummed. So small. So helpless.
I'm doing this for you, baby, I thought. Whatever happens next, it's all for you.
"Ms. Hart?" A nurse approached. "Your son is stable for now, but Dr. Winters wants to prep for surgery as soon as you get authorization."
As soon as. Not if. As soon as.
Because they all assumed Adrian would help. They assumed a billionaire philanthropist would save a dying child without question.
They didn't know what I knew—that Adrian Blackwell's heart was made of ice.
Fifteen minutes had passed.
I stood by the elevator bank, watching the numbers light up. Every time the elevator dinged, my stomach dropped.
Not him. Not yet.
Maya brought me water I couldn't drink. "Do you want me to be there when he arrives?"
"No." I needed to face this alone. "Stay with Ethan. If something happens—if I can't come back right away—make sure he knows I love him."
"Elena, you're scaring me—"
"Just promise me."
Maya's eyes filled with tears. "I promise. But nothing's going to happen. You're going to get the authorization, Ethan's going to have surgery, and everything will be fine."
If only life worked that way.
The elevator dinged again.
The doors opened.
And there he was.
Adrian Blackwell hadn't changed. Five years, and he looked exactly the same—tall, dark hair perfectly styled, sharp suit that probably cost more than most people's cars. But it was his face that stopped my heart. Those dark eyes that I'd once loved, that had once looked at me like I was his entire world.
Before he'd thrown me away.
He stepped out of the elevator, and his eyes scanned the waiting room. Searching. When they landed on me, he froze.
For a moment, neither of us moved. We just stared at each other across the space of five years and a thousand broken promises.
Then Adrian started walking toward me, and I couldn't breathe.
He looked older up close. Tired. Lines around his eyes that hadn't been there before. But still devastatingly handsome in a way that made my traitorous heart skip.
"Elena." My name came out rough, like he'd been holding it in for years. "You're really here."
I lifted my chin, channeling every ounce of strength I'd built over five years. "Thank you for coming."
"Where's the child?" Adrian's eyes scanned the ICU. "You said his name was Ethan?"
"He's sleeping. The doctors are monitoring him."
"What exactly is wrong with his heart?"
I explained what Dr. Winters had told me—the rare condition, the surgery needed, the timeline. Adrian listened with complete focus, asking sharp questions about symptoms and treatment options.
This was the Adrian I remembered from business meetings. Controlled. Analytical. Showing no emotion.
"I can get the authorization," he said finally. "I'll call the foundation director right now. Your son will have surgery within twenty-four hours."
Relief crashed over me so hard I almost fell. "Thank you."
"Can I see him?"
No. Every cell in my body screamed no. If Adrian saw Ethan, if he looked at our son's face—
"He's sleeping," I said quickly. "The doctors said he needs rest—"
"I just want to make sure he's getting the best care." Adrian's voice was gentle but firm. "Please, Elena. Let me see him."
I was trapped. If I refused, he might get suspicious. Might withdraw his help.
But if he saw Ethan...
"Fine," I whispered. "But just for a minute."
We walked to the ICU together, not touching, barely breathing. I could feel the tension rolling off Adrian in waves. He had questions—I could see them building behind his eyes.
But nothing could prepare him for this.
I stopped at Ethan's window. "There. That's him."
Adrian moved to stand beside me, and I watched his face as he looked at my son for the first time.
I watched the exact moment everything changed.
Adrian's whole body went rigid. His breath caught. His hand came up to grip the window frame like he needed support.
Because there was no hiding it. No denying it.
Ethan was curled on his side, dark curls spread across the pillow, his little face peaceful in sleep. And even through the window, even in the harsh hospital lights, the resemblance was unmistakable.
"How old did you say he was?" Adrian's voice was barely a whisper.
My heart pounded so hard it hurt. "Four."
"Four." Adrian's hand trembled against the glass. "Four years old."
I saw him doing the math. Saw the realization crashing over him like a tidal wave.
We'd divorced five years ago. If Ethan was four...
"Elena." Adrian turned to face me, and his eyes were wild. Desperate. Terrified. "When is his birthday?"
I couldn't answer. My voice had completely stopped working.
"When is his birthday?" Adrian demanded, louder now.
A nurse looked over, concerned.
"March fifteenth," I whispered.
Adrian's face went white. "March. That's nine months after—" He couldn't finish the sentence.
We stared at each other, the truth hanging between us like a bomb about to explode.
"He's mine." It wasn't a question. "That's my son."
I wanted to deny it. Wanted to lie, to protect Ethan from this man who'd destroyed me once already.
But what was the point? One DNA test and the truth would come out anyway.
"Yes," I said, the word costing me everything. "He's yours."
Adrian stumbled backward like I'd shot him. His hand went to his chest, his breathing ragged.
"You were pregnant." His voice cracked. "When I divorced you, when I threw you out—you were carrying my child."
"Don't." I held up a hand, anger flooding in to replace fear. "Don't you dare make this about you feeling guilty. I didn't tell you because you'd made your choice crystal clear."
"I had a right to know!"
"You had a right?" I stepped closer, fury making me brave. "You threw me out of your house with a check and divorce papers! You chose another woman over me! You didn't ask if I was okay, didn't care where I went, didn't look back once. So no, Adrian, you didn't have any rights."
"He's my son—"
"He's MY son!" I was shaking now. "I raised him alone. I worked three jobs while pregnant. I gave birth with nobody there. I've been his entire world for four years while you lived your perfect life without us!"
Adrian looked like he might break. "Elena, if I'd known—"
"It doesn't matter now." I forced myself to calm down. "All that matters is Ethan getting the surgery. Can you still help, or is this going to be a problem?"
"A problem?" Adrian's voice was hoarse. "My son is dying, and you think I'd let that happen because we have history?"
"I don't know what you'd do. I stopped knowing you a long time ago."
We stood there, enemies with a child between us, the past bleeding into the present.
Then Adrian pulled out his phone. "I'm calling the foundation director now. And Dr. Winters. And every specialist I can find." He looked at me with something fierce and broken in his eyes. "I'm getting my son the best care in the world. And Elena? We're going to talk. About everything."
He walked away, already barking orders into his phone.
I watched him go, my whole body trembling.
This was it. The beginning of the end.
Adrian knew about Ethan. And nothing would ever be the same again.