Chapter 11 - The Scars We Choose
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The underground clinic was a chaotic flurry of medical staff and heavily armed guards.
Chloe burst through the double doors, rushing to the hospital bed where her younger brother, Sam, lay propped against the pillows. His shoulder was heavily bandaged, but he offered her a weak, reassuring smile.
“I’m okay, Chlo,” Sam winced as she hugged him tightly. “It looks worse than it is.”
Arthur stood in the doorway, watching the reunion with a dark, brooding intensity. He felt the crushing weight of responsibility. His world was poisoning hers, seeping into the lives of innocent people who had never asked for this violence.
Later that night, back in the fortified penthouse, Arthur stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows, staring out at the city he ruled. A glass of untouched whiskey rested in his hand.
Chloe walked softly across the room, wrapping her arms around his waist from behind, resting her cheek against his broad back.
“Sam is going to be fine,” Chloe murmured, sensing the heavy guilt radiating from him.
Arthur turned around, pulling her into his chest. He buried his face in her hair, inhaling the sweet, familiar scent of vanilla.
“I left you because I thought my world would destroy you,” Arthur confessed, his voice a raw, broken whisper. “I broke your heart because I thought it was the only way to save your life. But now, you are bleeding, your brother is shot, and the danger is closer than ever.”
“You didn't shoot Sam,” Chloe reminded him gently. “Malcolm Croft did.”
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“If keeping you safe means dismantling my entire empire, Chloe, I will do it,” Arthur vowed fiercely, leaning back to look directly into her eyes. “I will burn the Romano syndicate to ashes. I will walk away from the throne. I only want you and our child.”
“I don't want you to burn your empire, Arthur,” Chloe said softly, placing her hand over his heart. “I want you to win.”
