Too Late, Mr. Sterling—I’m Marrying Your Rival Chapter 09

“Yes,” I whispered.

He went very still.

Then he smiled-slow, stunned, like a man who’d just watched the sun come up after twenty years of

night.

“Say it again.”

My face caught fire. “I said lie down so I can fix the mess you made of your stitches.”

He laughed, then groaned, clutching his ribs. But his eyes never stopped smiling.

“Fine. Doctor’s orders.” He lay back, still holding my wrist, and pressed his thumb gently beside the scratches Damien left. “But we’re finishing this conversation the second I can stand without bleeding.”

I bit my lip so he wouldn’t see me smile. He saw anyway.

Damien didn’t leave Harbor Point.

He rented the old inn by the harbor. Every morning, there were white roses on the nurses’ station with my name on them. Every morning, I gave them to the hospice ward.

On the fourth day, he was waiting in the parking lot at the end of my shift. Snow in his hair. Shadows under

his eyes.

“Five minutes,” he begged. “Please.”

I kept walking. He followed.

“I read it, Ava. All of it. Every page.” His voice shook. “Page 112. The night I had food poisoning in Singapore and you flew fourteen hours just to sit by my bed. I told you it was unnecessary. You wrote, It’s

okay. He’s just tired,”

I stopped at my car.

“Page 240. You sold your mother’s ring for that medal. I never knew. I gave it to Sienna because she said she liked it.” He laughed, broken. “I didn’t even think.”

“I know you didn’t,” I said. “That was always the problem.”

“I pushed you because I was terrified. The threats against the company, the protests-I thought if you were harder, you’d be safe.” His eyes were wet. “I turned you into someone you weren’t. And then I punished you

for not being her.”

“Damien.” I finally looked at him. “I believe you’re sorry. I do. But your sorry doesn’t bring anything back.”

“I’ll do anything.”

“Then let me go.”

His face crumpled.

I got in my car and drove away. In the rearview mirror, he stood alone in the snow, not moving.

I thought that was the end of it.

Two days later, Dr. Whitaker called an emergency staff meeting. His face was gray.

“Harbor Point Regional is out of money,” he said. “We were already on the edge. We have one offer for acquisition.” He swallowed. “From Sterling Global.”

The room went silent. Every head turned toward me.

My phone buzzed. A message from a new number.

It doesn’t have to be like this. Come home and I’ll keep the hospital open. I’ll fund every wing. I just need you to come home. -D

My blood went cold.

He’d changed his words. He hadn’t changed at all.

He was still trying to control me. He’d just put a price tag on it this time.

I walked straight to Rhys’s room, shaking with fury, phone in my hand.

He took one look at my face, read the message, and his expression went dangerously calm.

“He’s going to buy it,” I said, “Three hundred jobs. The only ER for fifty miles. And he’ll use them all against

me.”

Rhys handed me back my phone.

Then he picked up his own and dialed.

“Marcus,” he said to his CFO. “How fast can we close on a hospital?”