Chapter 129

Angela POV

"When?" I asked, my voice steadier than I expected. "When did she die?"

Sean swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing visibly before he spoke.

"Three years ago. Christmas Eve." His voice was barely audible. "It was kidney failure that triggered cardiac arrest. By the time we got her to the hospital, it was too late."

The words hit me like physical blows. Three years. While I had been building a new life in Italy, Elizabeth had passed away with her family by her side - but without me there to say goodbye.

"Elizabeth had kidney failure?" I asked, stunned. "How did I not know this?"

Sean's gaze dropped to his hands. "Her condition had been deteriorating gradually. Age-related, mostly. That night..." He paused, his voice catching. "That night was different. More severe. By the time we found her..."

I let out a bitter laugh, hollow and painful. "What right do I have to ask about any of this? I wasn't even there when she was ill. I didn't even know about her kidney problems."

"She mentioned you," Sean said quietly. "At the end."

My head snapped up, eyes locking with his. "Really?"

"She missed you very much."

Something broke inside me at those words-a dam I'd carefully constructed over five years, holding back emotions I couldn't afford to feel. Tears filled my eyes and spilled silently down my cheeks. I tried to turn away, to hide this moment of vulnerability, but Sean reached out, pulling me gently against his chest.

I should have resisted. I should have pulled away immediately. Instead, I found myself collapsing against him, my tears soaking into his shirt as silent sobs wracked my body. His arms encircled me, one hand stroking my hair with unexpected tenderness.

"It's okay," he murmured. "It's all over now."

We stayed like that, frozen in a moment that seemed to exist outside our complicated history, until the door opened and a nurse entered. She paused momentarily at the sight of us before proceeding to change Sean's IV bag.

Reality crashed back as I suddenly remembered why Sean was hospitalized-gastric bleeding, collapse, his own medical crisis. And here I was, crying in his arms like he was the healthy one.

I pulled away, wiping my face as I moved to the small cabinet in the corner of the room. Finding a clean hospital gown, I turned back to Sean.

"I'm sorry I got your shirt all wet," I said, holding out the garment. "You should change into something dry."

Sean shook his head. "Don't worry about it. It'll dry soon enough."

"You're already sick. Getting chilled will only make your stomach condition worse."

"My hands are a bit occupied at the moment," he replied, indicating the IV line inserted into his arm.

I glanced at the medical equipment, suddenly feeling foolish. Of course he couldn't easily change clothes with an IV in place.

I sat silently in the hospital room for a while, then glanced at my watch and realized it was almost time for the children to be dismissed from school.

"It's getting late," I said, setting the gown aside. "I should go."

I had barely turned toward the door when Sean's hand shot out, grabbing my wrist. His grip was firm, desperate even, as his eyes locked onto mine.

"You're leaving?" The vulnerability in his voice was startling.

I tried to pull my hand free, but his grip only tightened. "Sean, please let go."

"Will you come back tomorrow?" he asked, desperation bleeding into his tone.

"Yes, I promise I'll come tomorrow," I assured him. "The doctor says you need proper rest and care. I'll look after you during this period."

His grip relaxed slightly, but he didn't release me. "What would you like for breakfast? I'll have Thomas arrange it."

"Anything is fine. I'll eat whatever you bring."

"I'll bring breakfast," I offered, "but I won't be able to stay for lunch. I have other commitments."

"That's fine. Thomas can handle lunch arrangements."

I nodded, acutely aware that I couldn't tell him my "commitments" were our children-Aria and Ethan-who needed their mother.

Sean's eyes searched mine, a different question forming. "You... you're not living with Christopher, are you?"

"No," I answered simply.

Relief visibly washed over him, his lips curving into the slightest smile. "Good. You can go now."

Finally, he released my wrist. I rubbed it absently as I moved toward the door.

"Angela," he called just as my hand touched the handle.

I turned back, finding his eyes filled with uncertainty. "You'll really come tomorrow?"

"Of course," I said softly. "I keep my promises."

Outside in the corridor, Thomas straightened from where he'd been leaning against the wall, his expression guarded but apologetic.

"Ms. Wilson, I'm truly sorry for-"

"It's fine," I interrupted, keeping my tone businesslike. "You can arrange dinner for Mr. Shaw tonight. Make sure he eats properly."

"And if he refuses?"

I met Thomas's gaze directly. "Then tell him I won't be coming tomorrow."

Understanding dawned in Thomas's eyes. He nodded slowly. "I see. That should be... effective."