Chapter 12

"Aria."

The name escaped his throat, a choked sound laced with a tremor of disbelief. The few steps between them felt like crossing a century. He yearned to pull her into his arms, yet a piercing fear held him back—the terror of touching a body devoid of warmth.

"Aria!"

In the end, an impulse born of desperation won out over his fear. He snatched her up, crushing her body to his with all his might, as if the sheer force of the embrace could confirm she was still there. Anguish gnawed at his eyes, turning them red. This rough, clumsy hug was the only way he could articulate the turmoil raging inside him. He had never been so terrified of losing her forever.

"Hang on, Aria, please... I won't let anything happen to you! Do you hear me? You have to be okay!"

Carrying her, Cade bolted for the hospital like a man possessed. He was so consumed by panic that he failed to notice the familiar heartbeat in his arms was silent.

She wasn't even breathing.

Don't leave me alone, Aria! You're mine, for all eternity!

The moment they burst through the hospital doors, medical staff swarmed them, rushing her into the emergency room.

A doctor quickly checked her vital signs, then exchanged a somber, helpless glance with the others. In near unison, they shook their heads.

Cade’s eyes were bloodshot. He glared at the doctor, the sheer ferocity and desperation in his gaze staggering a man accustomed to life and death. Without another word, the team moved her onto the operating table and began emergency procedures.

Every second of waiting outside was torment. Unable to bear it, Cade threw on a set of scrubs and pushed his way into the ER.

Her EKG was a flat line. In that instant, it felt as if his own heart had stopped.

He couldn't interfere, so he stood frozen to the side, scorched by a helpless, burning impatience.

Despite the team's frantic efforts, she showed no signs of life. Just as the lead doctor was about to call the time of death, a miracle occurred. A faint peak suddenly leaped across the monitor. Her heart was beating again.

A wave of relieved cheers erupted from the doctors. They were thankful not only for the life saved, but for their own careers—had Aria Montgomery died on their watch, the consequences would have been dire. Her resuscitation was nothing short of a medical miracle.

This time, it was her left wrist. With her right hand disabled, she must have had to use her teeth and left hand together to grip the shard of glass. The resulting cut was a ghastly sight, deep and jagged.

As Dr. Jenny, the lead surgeon, tended to the wound, she noticed the network of old scars covering Aria's right arm. A detailed examination soon confirmed the permanent functional loss in that hand.

Dr. Jenny couldn't help but steal a glance at Cade. Rumors had long circulated about how he mistreated his wife in favor of his mistress. She couldn't help but wonder if he was responsible for the state of Aria's right hand.

"What a cold, brutal man," she thought.

Although she knew her next words might infuriate him, Dr. Jenny felt she had to speak up for Aria. Summoning her courage, she faced him directly.

"Mr. Sterling, your wife's physical condition is already extremely fragile. I would advise you to ensure she sustains no further injuries. Her right hand is already permanently disabled. If the same were to happen to her left, her life would be utterly ruined."

Astounded, Cade stared at her, his expression one of pure shock, as if he'd been struck. "What did you just say? What's wrong with her right hand?"

A flicker of bewilderment crossed Dr. Jenny's face; she hadn't expected him to be oblivious. Her gaze drifted to Aria's right hand. "The motor nerves in this hand were intentionally damaged. It's a permanent disability. You... you weren't aware of this?"

It was a complete misunderstanding. She had genuinely believed Cade was the abuser.

Cade’s fists clenched at his sides as a white-hot rage seared through him. Her hand... It had been her entire world, the source of her gift, the instrument that brought countless masterpieces to life. He couldn't begin to imagine the private torture it must have been for such a brilliant painter, knowing she could never properly hold a brush again.