CHAPTER 13: WE NEED TO TALK

The hospital loomed in the distance. Sirens wailed faintly from somewhere ahead as Dylan turned the car toward the emergency entrance.

Evelyn held Oliver tighter to her chest, her mind overwhelmed by chaos, fear, and desperation. If she lost her son, nothing else mattered. Not even her life.

Axel’s eyes stayed on the boy, on the fragile thread of life slipping through Evelyn’s fingers. For once, the great Axel Knight felt powerless.

"Let me carry him!" In a heartbeat, Oliver was already in his arms.

And in that moment, as the hospital doors appeared, one truth overwhelmed him: if this child was truly his, nothing and no one could take him away.

The car screeched to a halt, and the emergency team was already waiting outside.

Of course they were, this was Axel Knight’s hospital. His name alone was enough to move mountains, and now, the staff scrambled like soldiers before a general.

"Please do your best to help!"

Axel handed Oliver over to the doctors. He could feel Evelyn crying beside him.

"Yes, sir!" A few doctors answer politely.

Then another doctor shouted as if he wanted to alert everyone in the team, "Severe blood loss, wound to the foot, possible arterial damage!"

They rushed Oliver onto a stretcher, moving fast through the wide glass doors.

Machines beeped, voices overlapped, but all Evelyn saw was Oliver’s tiny hand dangling limply off the stretcher until a nurse tucked it back against his chest.

Evelyn followed, nearly stumbling, her tears blurring everything around her. ’My baby. Please, God. Save my baby...’

Axel’s presence was a storm just behind her. Silent. He didn’t need to shout; his authority bled into the room, into the very walls of the hospital he owned.

When his sharp voice cut through the chaos, everyone obeyed without hesitation.

"Stabilize him. Stop the bleeding immediately."

Evelyn’s nails dug into her palms as she watched the surgical team vanish behind steel doors, her son’s pale face the last thing she saw before they slammed shut.

Her knees nearly gave out, but she forced herself to stand, clinging to a wall beside her for support.

Moments later, a doctor rushed back out, panic-filled in his tone.

"Sir, we’ve just checked the blood bank. We don’t have any units of type B in stock. We have already ordered from our main branch at Grayenfall, but they will only arrive in forty-five minutes..."

Evelyn’s world spun out of control at the news.

"What?" Her voice trembled, terror rising in her throat. ’No blood? That meant...!?’’

Her body went cold, her hands trembling violently. Oliver couldn’t survive without it.

But before the horror could consume her, Axel spoke, his tone still sounding calm.

"I’m type B. Take as much as you need."

Evelyn froze. Her head instantly turned toward him, her breath catching in her chest.

’He... he had the same blood type.’

Her throat tightened, heart pounding so hard she thought it would break her ribs.

She wanted to scream, to cry, to confess the truth that pressed against her lips. Oliver was his son. His blood. His flesh. His life.

But fear chained her tongue.

What if telling him now shattered everything? What if the truth didn’t save her, but destroyed her instead?

So she said nothing as she saw Axel follow the doctor.

She only sank into the metal chair outside the surgical ward. His hands shaking, her mind a whirlwind of grief, guilt, and desperate hope.

Time dragged.

Every second felt like a knife twisting deeper into her chest. She was drowning in silence, utterly alone.

Axel had disappeared, taken into the depths of the hospital to give his blood.

...

When the doors finally opened again, Evelyn lifted her head.

Axel emerged, his dark charcoal suit gone, his sleeves rolled up, only a white shirt clinging to his frame.

His hair was slightly damp, his collar open, and though he should have looked exhausted, he looked impossibly composed; handsome and untouchable.

He walked toward her with that same unshakable presence, each step slow.

She felt her body tremble, her heart stutter, as if the air itself thickened with tension the closer he came.

And then, without thinking, the words slipped from her lips, soft and fragile.

"Thank you, Axel... Thank you so much for helping Oliver."

His steps halted, his eyes locking onto hers.

Evelyn’s pulse raced, her body caught between gratitude and fear.

She had no idea if those words were enough or if they were far too little for the truth she still kept buried inside her heart.

He said nothing, but his sharp gaze was fixed on her.

When Evelyn thought Axel had absolutely zero interest in talking to her, she decided to return the favor and ignore him.

Fine by her. She had enough on her plate without adding his brooding, statue-like silence to the mix.

She lowered her gaze to her lap, staring at her trembling hands, clenched together, fingers tangled.

Then, his deep, husky voice broke the heavy silence like thunder.

"We need to talk, Evelyn Walters!"

"Taylor!" She corrected him instantly. It feels strange to hear her old name.

Axel’s eyebrow slightly raised to hear that.

’Taylor? No wonder I never found her, she’s now using her mother’s last name...’ Axel thought amusingly, as he hadn’t considered that possibility.

Evelyn frowned, her heart hammering against her ribs. She could already guess what he wanted to talk about, and the thought made her stomach twist.

Slowly, she lifted her head, meeting his gaze.

And there it was. Those eyes. Damn those eyes. Hazel, sharp, and infuriatingly familiar. The same eyes her son had.

She swallowed hard, her throat dry. "Hmm... go ahead," she whispered, her voice barely above a whisper.

"No. Not here." His tone was cold.

Then he turned, already walking away as though he fully expected her to follow like some obedient puppy.

But Evelyn didn’t move at all. Nope. Not even an inch. She remained seated on the chair, ignoring him.