Chapter Twenty-Seven :The Road to Recovery

Dominic had always been a man in control. A man who dictated the terms of his life, who built an empire from the ground up with nothing but sheer determination and unrelenting willpower. But here, lying in a hospital bed, stripped of that control, he felt powerless. The steady beep of the heart monitor was a constant reminder of his fragility, of the fight he wasn't sure he could win.

But as he slowly blinked awake, the first thing he saw wasn't the sterile white walls or the harsh overhead lights—it was Camille.

She sat in the chair beside his bed, her posture stiff but her presence grounding. A disposable coffee cup rested in her hands, though from the way she held it, he doubted she had taken a sip in a while. Her face was unreadable, but her eyes—her eyes told him she was exhausted, conflicted, wary.

"You're still here," he murmured, his voice hoarse from sleep.

Camille's gaze flickered to him, but she didn't respond immediately. Instead, she looked down at her coffee, as if searching for an answer at the bottom of the cup. Finally, she exhaled.

"Liam didn't want to leave," she said.

Dominic followed her gaze to the small couch in the corner of the room, where Liam lay curled up, fast asleep. His son.

A surge of emotion tightened in Dominic's chest. Love. Regret. A longing so deep it nearly consumed him.

"And you?" he asked, his voice softer now. "Why did you stay?"

Camille hesitated. The truth sat heavy between them, but she wasn't ready to say it.

"I don't know," she admitted finally.

Dominic's jaw tightened. He didn't expect trust to come easily, but hearing the uncertainty in her voice stung.

"I meant what I said," he told her. "I'm not walking away. Not from him. Not from you."

She let out a short, bitter laugh, shaking her head. "You say that now. But what happens when things get hard? When your life calls you back? When—" She stopped herself, inhaling sharply. "I can't afford to let Liam believe in something that won't last."

Dominic swallowed hard. He knew he had to earn her trust, but he had no idea how to do that when years of doubt and hurt stood between them.

"I love him, Camille," he said, his voice raw. "I don't know if I deserve to, but I do."

Camille's fingers tightened around her coffee cup, her body rigid. She exhaled slowly, forcing herself to meet his gaze.

"We'll see," she whispered.

Then, she stood, moving toward Liam. She ran a gentle hand over his hair before carefully scooping him into her arms. Liam murmured something in his sleep, but nestled closer to her, completely unaware of the emotional storm brewing around him.

Dominic watched them, an ache settling deep in his bones. He had missed too much—Liam's first steps, his first words, his entire childhood. And Camille… she had shouldered it all alone.

As she turned to leave, Dominic spoke again. "Camille."

She stopped in the doorway but didn't turn around.

"I won't stop fighting for him," he said. "For both of you."

She hesitated, then nodded once before walking out of the room.

For the first time in years, Dominic Hayes had something to fight for. And this time, he wasn't going to lose.

—

A Week Later

Dominic's hospital room felt suffocating. He had never been the type to sit still, and a week of forced bed rest had only made him restless. He was healing—slowly—but Dr. Carter made it clear that his recovery would take time.

Camille had been there. Not every day, not hovering, but she had been there. Liam had come to see him, his visits hesitant at first, but growing longer each day. They played chess. They talked—about school, about the café, about small things that shouldn't have mattered as much as they did.

And now, as Dominic sat in a wheelchair, waiting for the nurse to finish his discharge paperwork, he felt a strange mix of relief and apprehension. He was free to leave. But what came next?

Nathan stood by the door, arms crossed. "You sure you're ready for this?"

Dominic gave him a look. "Do I have a choice?"

Nathan sighed, rubbing a hand down his face. "You could take some time. Rest. Go back to the city and—"

"No," Dominic cut him off. "My life isn't there anymore."

Nathan hesitated, then nodded.

A knock at the door pulled Dominic's attention. Camille stepped inside, her expression unreadable. "You ready?"

Dominic nodded.

Camille's lips pressed into a thin line before she turned to the nurse. "I'll take him home."

Home. The word settled over Dominic like a promise. He just hoped he still had a chance to make it real.