Leon was pacing.
He had checked the time five different times in the last hour. She should have landed by now. She should have called. She always made things difficult, but not like this.
He was about to dial again when his phone rang first.
Unknown number.
He almost ignored it. Then instinct — or something deeper — made him pick up.
"Hello?"
"Mr. Leon Moretti ?"
"Yes."
"This is General Memorial Hospital. A woman was brought in this afternoon from a vehicle accident. We believe she was en route to you."
Leon froze.
His throat dried. "Is she—?"
"She's alive," the nurse said. "She's in a coma. There was trauma to her head. We don't have an ID, but she matches the flight records connected to the driver. You were the listed contact."
Leon's grip tightened. "I'm on my way."
He didn't ask questions. Didn't waste time. The line went dead. He was already moving, keys in hand, mind spinning.
She was coming back to him.
And now she might never wake up.
Elsewhere
The news spread fast. Too fast.
Elise was at the estate when the hospital called her next. The nurse wasn't sure who to reach. She mentioned the name Leon, and Elise knew.
Her knees buckled. Jean caught her.
"She was coming home," Elise whispered. "She was coming back…"
Maureen got it from a reporter. One of her own, ironically.
"She was in a crash. That fake girl. No one knows her real name."
Maureen felt her stomach twist — but not with guilt. Something colder. Regret. Like she'd broken something too far, and now there was no fixing it.
And Damien?
He heard last.
He was on the balcony, looking out over the ocean, the quiet still fresh in his chest… when his phone buzzed. Unknown number. Foreign code.
He answered slowly.
"This is General Memorial Hospital. Miss Celeste… she listed you under emergency contacts."
His breath hitched. "What happened?"
"She's in critical condition. A car accident. She's unresponsive."
The voice blurred after that.
He didn't remember what he said. Just that his chest ached worse than anything he'd ever felt before.
She was gone.
Not dead.
But gone.
And none of them could do a thing about it.