Too Late, Mr. Sterling—I’m Marrying Your Rival Chapter 08

He looked like a ghost of himself.

The perfect suit was gone. He wore a wrinkled coat dusted with snow. Stubble shadowed his jaw. His eyes

were sunken, red, wild.

He looked at me. Then at the cup in my hand. Then at Rhys.

His face went white with rage.

“Calloway.” The name came out like a curse. Then back to me, raw: “You used to hate when people

touched you.”

“How did you get in?” I set the cup down. My voice was flat. “This is a hospital. You have no reason to be

here.”

His throat worked.

“I’ve been looking for you for three months, Ava.” His voice cracked. “You changed your number. You froze your accounts. I hired four investigators. Then I saw a local paper-a story about the doctor who saved Rhys Calloway in a storm. There was a photo. Blurry. Just your hands. But I knew your hands.”

“So?”

He flinched like I’d hit him.

“You found me. And then what?” I asked quietly. “The divorce is final, Damien. Your lawyers signed it.”

“I know. I know I was wrong-” Panic broke through his voice. He stepped toward me, reaching.

Rhys’s arm shot out from the bed and blocked him. Cold. Immovable.

Damien looked past him, desperate. “I fired Sienna. Yesterday, Legal got a recording. She faked her fever that night. She lied about everything. She’s gone, Ava, She’ll never come near us again.”

“There is no us.”

“I’ll never compare you to anyone again. You don’t have to be strong. You can be exactly who you are. I love who you are-”

“Stop.”

The word was so quiet it silenced him.

“You don’t get to say that now.” I looked at him like a stranger in a hospital hallway. “I loved you for six

years. I gave up my career for you. I stood in front of a stage and lost our child trying to make you proud of me. And you never once saw me.”

His eyes filled.

“Sienna lied about the fever,” I said. “But she didn’t hang up on me. You did. She didn’t walk past my

stretcher. You did.”

“Ava, please-”

“I don’t love you anymore, Damien. Go home.”

His breathing went ragged. His gaze snapped to Rhys, sharp as a knife.

Rhys didn’t blink.

“You don’t love me?” Damien’s voice rose, cracking. He jabbed a shaking finger at the bed. “Then who?

Him? My biggest competitor? You think he wants you? He wants to beat me!”

“Yes,” I said.

He froze.

Even I froze. But the word was already out, and it felt true in a way nothing had felt true in years.

“I like him.”

Damien looked like I’d driven the steel shard through his chest.

Behind me, I heard Rhys exhale. When I glanced back, he wasn’t even trying to hide it-a smile was spreading across his face, wide and unguarded and dazzling.

“You heard her, Rhys said. “Get out.”

Damien stumbled back. Once. Twice. His spine hit the doorframe.

Then something broke in his face. He lunged and grabbed my wrist.

“You’re my wife. You’re coming home with me.”

Rhys moved faster than a man three weeks out of surgery should. He caught Damien’s arm in an iron grip and hit the call button with his other hand.

“Security, Room 6. Now,”

Two guards and Rhys’s head of security burst in and hauled Damien back. He wouldn’t let go. His nails

raked two bloody lines across my wrist before I tore free.

They dragged him down the hall, still shouting my name.

When I turned around, Rhys’s bandage was blooming red. His incision had split.

“Oh my God-” I pressed both hands to his side. “Are you insane? Lie down!”

He caught my hand. Held it there, over his heartbeat.

His voice was low, breathless, hopeful.

“What you said just now, Doctor Hale.” His amber eyes burned into mine. “Did you mean it?”