CHAPTER 277: RESURFACING

Adrien’s POV

Something was pressing against my hand. Warm. Steady.

When I tried to move my fingers, they barely twitched. My body felt heavy — not pain exactly, just... drained. Like something had been carved out of me and left hollow.

My eyes opened to the faint whir of machines and filtered sunlight bleeding through the blinds. The sterile scent of antiseptic filled my lungs. I blinked once. Twice.

Cameron was slumped in a chair beside my bed, head dropping at an awkward angle, his hand clamped around mine like as if letting go would stop me from breathing again. So that was the warm weight I was feeling on my hands.

For a second, I just watched him — the idiot — sleeping like a log. His rumpled shirt, the dark circles under his eyes, the way his jaw was clenched even in sleep... it was all a testament to a vigil I hadn’t even known I’d been subjected to.

A slow smile, wobbly and weak, started to form on my lips. He looked ridiculous, but also... terribly, wonderfully there.

"Get your hands off me," I muttered, my voice hoarse and dry as sandpaper.

Cameron’s head shot up. His eyes, startlingly wide and still clouded with sleep, darted around the room before fixing on me. The disorientation melted away, replaced by a dawning, disbelieving realization. His pupils dilated, his gaze widening until it was bright with unshed tears. "Adrien?" he breathed, the word a hushed, almost reverent whisper. "You’re... you’re awake."

I tried again to summon a smile, but it felt more like a grimace. My mouth tasted like cotton, utterly parched. "Took a nap," I croaked, the words rough and uneven. It was meant to be a joke, a way to inject levity, but the sound that came out was hollow, pathetic.

He leaned closer, his face inches from mine, his eyes raking over me as if trying to memorize every detail, to confirm this wasn’t some elaborate dream. "What’s... what’s your name?" he asked, his voice tight with a raw edge of desperation.

"Adrien," I scoffed. "Who else would I be, you idiot?"

"Thank God. I thought—" He stopped, exhaled hard. "I was scared you were going to die, man."

"Why are you always thinking I’m going to die?" My voice came out rough, but the corner of his mouth twitched.

Instead of answering, he surged forward, his arms wrapping around me in a sudden, desperate embrace. It was rough, bordering on clumsy, his embrace a lifeline. "How are you feeling? Are you in pain? Anything?" he muttered against me, while hugging me so tight I almost lost what little breath I had. "You’re supposed to be indestructible, man. You scared the shit out of me. My babyyyy!"

"Okay, okay, that’s enough," I grumbled, wincing as his elbow brushed my side. "You’re a grown man, not a toddler. Stop clinging to me like some dramatic movie scene. Get off."

He pulled back, eyes still glistening. "I’m just happy you’re awake. You ungrateful bastard." He sniffed dramatically, then pressed the call button on the wall. "I’m calling Kassel before you pass out."

I turned my head toward him. "How long have I been gone?"

He rubbed the back of his neck, a familiar gesture that spoke volumes of him thinking. "About...three or four weeks, I think. Honestly, I stopped keeping track of time. I was always coming here." He shook his head, a bewildered look in his eyes. "But damn, man ─ it was hard being a stand-in for you. How do you juggle all those companies and shit? I found out you own, like, seven other things I didn’t even know existed. What can’t you do?"

"Walk away from idiots," I said dryly. "Your leg?"

He froze mid rant and grinned. "Fully healed. So you were thinking about me as soon as you woke up, you do care about me so much. Aww."

"You’re disturbing my ears."

"I love you too," he said without missing a beat.

He stretched his legs out, shaking his head. "Oh—by the way, your sister won’t let me breathe. That girl’s scary. I had to fly her in last week during her term break so she could see you and mom. She didn’t want to leave either of you."

I went quiet for a moment. "Hmm." The sound barely left my throat, but the air in the room changed — heavier, softer, like the weight of everything I’d missed finally found its way back to me.

A few moments later, the door opened and with a soft click, and Kassel walked in, crisp and composed, her white coat wrinkled at the elbows trailing behind her like a flag of authority, stethoscope hanging loose around her neck, her expression softening the instant she saw me conscious. She looked like she hadn’t slept much either.

"Welcome back, Mr. Walton. You gave us quite a scare."

She moved with practiced efficiency, fingers adjusting wires, checking the IV line, tapping something into her tablet.

"You’ve been unconscious for a while," she said. "Your vitals are stabilizing. The blood loss was extensive, but your body responded well to transfusion and rest."

Rest. That was ironic.

"The gunshot wounds you sustained were near areas that could’ve ended you on the spot. The burns on your back were deeper than it was. There’s still some inflammation. Your left palm was torn open, but it’s healing. Fast."

She paused, her eyes scanning the screen.

"You’re lucky," she said. "If you’d collapsed even an hour later, we wouldn’t be having this conversation."

I didn’t respond. My throat felt like sandpaper. My chest ached. My body was a battlefield.

She didn’t ask what happened. She didn’t need to. Kassel dealt in facts, not stories.

"You’re recovering well," she finally said, jotting something down. "Though I can’t say I’m surprised. You always did have a stubborn streak. But you need to stay down. No sudden movements. No stress. Let your body do what you refused to let it do before—heal."

Cameron leaned back in his chair, smirking. "Told you he’s indestructible."

Kassel gave him a look that shut him up in two seconds flat.

"Your resilience is impressive," she said quietly. "But next time, don’t wait until your body gives out to ask for help."

The door opened again. Gray stepped in quietly, crisp as ever. He gave a short bow. "Boss."

I nodded at Kassel, and she took the cue to leave.

"Welcome back," Gray said, stepping closer. "We’ve kept everything running."

I nodded once. "Gray." My voice was hoarse. "Report." "

Gray straightened his shoulders. "While you were out, Mr. Cameron released the pre-recorded statement you’d prepared, sir—the one clarifying your position and addressing the press. Public sentiment shifted immediately. The false reports were retracted, and formal apologies were issued to Miss Miller and her family. Their lives have... returned to normal."

A tightness eased in my chest at that. At least she’s safe.

Gray continued, "Henry Walton and Caden Walton remain contained in the warehouse. Alive, as instructed. Under strict supervision." He hesitated, then added, "The board of directors, as well as the executive and investment teams, have all resigned accordingly. The transition paperwork for the new management team is ready for your approval."

I nodded slowly. "Good." My voice was steadier now, though my body still felt like it had been rebuilt from ash.

"My mother?"

Gray’s tone softened, respectful. "Dr. Kassel reports she’s improving, sir. She said your mother is transitioning from a vegetative state to a minimally conscious one. It’s a promising sign."

He paused, glancing at his notes before continuing, "She’s undergoing daily neuro rehab. Her EEG shows increased cortical activity—suggesting brain re-engagement. Kassel’s words."

"Good," I murmured again. "That’s... good."

Cameron leaned back in his chair, eyes red but trying for levity. "You’ve been out for a month, man. I almost shaved your head just to piss you off."

"Touch my hair," I said quietly, "and I’ll put you in the warehouse too."

He grinned. "Yeah. There he is."

The corner of my mouth twitched — barely, but it was enough for him.