Chapter 25 - The Hospital Vigil

The private wing of St. Jude’s Children’s Hospital was quiet, bathed in the soft, warm glow of bedside monitors.

Leo lay in the center of the large hospital bed, bundled in clean, warm fleece blankets. The doctors had spent three hours examining him: cleaning the minor scrapes on his arms, treating his bruised knees with soothing ointments, and running comprehensive scans. He was dehydrated and exhausted, but structurally unharmed.

He was currently sound asleep, clutching a plush golden lion that Julian had quietly purchased from the hospital gift shop.

A soft knock came at the door. Julian walked in, wearing fresh clothes, though a white bandage still covered his temple and his left arm was cradled in a sling.

"How is he?" Julian asked in a low whisper, pulling up a chair beside mine.

"Sleeping peacefully for the first time in weeks," I said softly, unable to take my eyes off my son's steady, rhythmic breathing. "The pediatricians say his physical wounds will heal quickly. With time, love, and therapy, he’ll overcome the trauma."

Julian smiled faintly, the tension finally leaving his weathered features. "You saved him, Clara. Against an entire empire, you tore them down to bring him back."

I looked at Julian. "You bled for us tonight, Julian. Arthur was your blood. You could have walked away."

Julian shook his head, his eyes steady and earnest. "Arthur was a monster who wrapped himself in family honor to justify cruelty. Dominic was no better. Real family protects the innocent, Clara. Standing with you and Leo is the only honorable thing I’ve done in years."

He paused, his expression growing serious. "The coast guard has been searching the base of the cliffs for four hours."

My breath hitched slightly. "And?"

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"They found debris, the detonator remnants, and Arthur’s coat soaked in blood," Julian said quietly. "But they haven't recovered a body. The undertow at that cliff is treacherous; bodies often get swept out to the deep shelf. Officially, he’s presumed dead."

I closed my eyes, feeling a slight chill prickle at the nape of my neck. In my gut, a mother’s instinct whispered that monsters rarely die so easily.