Too Late For His Desperate Proposal

Chloe Waller POV: I woke up to the steady, comforting beep of a heart monitor and the antiseptic smell of a hospital. My head throbbed with a dull, persistent ache. "Chloe? Oh, thank God, you' re awake." My mother' s voice was thick with relief. She and my father were sitting by my bedside, their faces etched with worry. "You' ve been unconscious for a whole day, sweetie," my dad said, his large hand gently squeezing mine. "The doctors said you' re physically okay, just some bruises and a mild concussion." "What happened? Who… who saved me?" I asked, my throat dry. My mother' s face broke into a wide, grateful smile. "A wonderful young man. A doctor, can you believe it? He fought off that monster and brought you here himself. He' s been checking on you constantly." Just then, the door to my room opened, and a man in a white coat stepped inside. He was tall, with kind, dark eyes and a gentle smile. "Jace!" my mom exclaimed. "She' s awake." His smile widened as he approached my bed. "Chloe. I' m so glad to see you' re okay. You gave us all quite a scare." His voice was calm and soothing, a balm to my frayed nerves. "Thank you," I said, my voice barely a whisper. "You saved my life." He shook his head, a faint blush coloring his cheeks. "I was just in the right place at the right time. I' m just glad I could help." There was an innate goodness about him, a quiet strength that made me feel safe. He was a good person. I knew it instantly. He explained he was a resident doctor here but was scheduled to transfer to another hospital in a different city tomorrow. My parents, seeing a spark of something, made a flimsy excuse about getting coffee and left us alone. "The police arrested the man who attacked you," Jace said softly after they' d gone. "He confessed. But… he wasn' t working alone, Chloe." My blood ran cold. "What do you mean?" "He said he was hired. By a woman." Jace hesitated, his expression grim. He pulled out his phone and showed me a still from a security camera. The image was grainy, but the woman handing a wad of cash to my attacker was unmistakable. Fabiola Clarke. The name was a punch to the gut. The coffee incident, the engagement ring, and now this. She hadn' t just wanted to warn me. She had wanted to destroy me. Just as the terrible reality was sinking in, the door to my room burst open and Holden rushed in, his face pale with panic. "Chloe! Are you okay? I just heard…" He stopped short when he saw Jace standing by my bed. His expression hardened, a flicker of something dark and possessive in his eyes. He deliberately wedged himself between us. "Who are you?" "I' m Dr. English," Jace replied, his tone polite but firm. "I' m the one who found her." "I' m her… best friend," I said at the same time, the words tasting like poison. Holden' s jaw tightened. He plastered on a fake smile. "Thank you, Doctor, for helping her. We' d like to take you out to dinner to show our appreciation…" "Holden," I cut in, my voice sharp. "Is there something you need?" He looked wounded, his eyes wide with disbelief. "Chlo, I came as soon as I heard. I was worried sick." My patience, already worn thin, snapped. "The woman you' re in love with, the woman you' re going to marry, hired someone to attack me, Holden!" I shrieked, the words tearing out of me in a raw, ragged wave. He stared at me, utterly poleaxed. "What? No. That' s impossible. Fabiola would never…" "So you believe her?" I screamed, my voice cracking. "You believe her over me?" He flinched as if I' d slapped him. His eyes were wide and helpless. He opened his mouth, then closed it again, unable to answer. He couldn' t deny his loyalty to her. "Are you and Fabiola getting engaged?" I asked, my voice suddenly quiet, deadly calm. I needed the final nail in the coffin. He hesitated, his gaze flicking away from mine. "Chloe, my mom' s health has been up and down…" He was evading. He was protecting her. That was all the answer I needed. The last, stubborn ember of hope I' d been nursing for him sputtered and died, leaving only cold, bitter ash. "Get out," I said, my voice devoid of all emotion. I snatched the box of chocolates he was holding and thrust it back at him. "Get out and don' t come back." He stood there, stunned into silence, until Jace gently but firmly escorted him out and closed the door. I was finally alone with my grief. The betrayal was so absolute, so profound, it felt like a physical weight crushing my chest. I closed my eyes, and the tears I had been holding back began to fall. Then, the world tilted violently. The beeping of the monitor grew frantic as a blinding pain exploded behind my eyes. The room spun, and the last thing I saw before the darkness swallowed me whole was Jace' s horrified face as I crumpled to the floor. Jace English POV: I stood before Chloe' s parents, the crisp white paper of the diagnostic report feeling like a death sentence in my hands. "I' m so sorry," I said, my voice heavy. "The emotional trauma… it seems to have triggered a latent condition. It' s a brain aneurysm. A neurofibroma pressing on her optic nerve. If we don' t operate, she' ll lose her sight permanently. Even with the surgery, the risks are incredibly high." Mrs. Waller let out a choked sob, collapsing into her husband' s arms. "We have to transfer her," I said, my mind racing. "My father… he' s Dr. Gordon Fernandez. He' s one of the best neurosurgeons in the world. He' s in New York. It' s her only chance." Holden King POV: I stumbled out of the police station, the detective' s words echoing in my ears. "The perpetrator confessed, Mr. King. He was hired by your fiancée, Ms. Fabiola Clarke." Fabiola. Chloe was right. I hadn' t believed her. I had defended the monster who tried to destroy her. A wave of self-loathing so intense it made me physically ill washed over me. I had been a coward. A blind, stupid coward. I had to get to her. I had to apologize. I had to make this right. I jumped in my car and sped towards the hospital, my hands shaking on the steering wheel. I ran through the corridors to her room, my heart pounding with a desperate urgency. But the room was empty. The bed was stripped bare. A nurse at the station looked at me with pity. "I' m sorry, sir. The patient was transferred to another facility." "Where?" I begged, my voice cracking. "Please, you have to tell me where she went!" "I' m sorry," she said, her expression firm. "I can' t disclose patient information." I had lost her. I had truly, irrevocably, lost her.