Chapter 9 - The Recovery Room
The next morning, the sterile, quiet atmosphere of Mount Sinai Hospital felt like a completely different universe from the glittering drama of the opera house.
Clara sat by the bedside in the private ICU recovery suite, holding Lucas’s pale, thin hand between both of her own as he slowly drifted awake.
The high-tech monitors surrounding the bed beeped with a steady, reassuring rhythm that sounded like the sweetest music Clara had ever heard.
“Hey, kiddo,” Clara whispered, her eyes filling with happy tears as Lucas blinked his eyes open and focused weakly on her face.
“Hey,” Lucas croaked out, his throat dry from the breathing tubes that had been removed only hours before. “Did... did it work?”
“It worked,” Clara nodded furiously, pressing a kiss to his knuckles. “The marrow transplant was flawless. You're going to get better now, Luke. It’s finally over.”
Lucas managed a weak, tired smile, his eyes drifting down to catch the blinding flash of light reflecting off the five-carat diamond on her left hand.
“Whoa,” Lucas murmured, his eyes widening slightly in confusion. “Since when do you wear giant ice cubes, Clara? What happened while I was out?”
Clara froze, realizing she had forgotten to take off the engagement ring before entering the hospital room that morning.
Before she could invent a plausible lie to protect her brother from the truth of her sacrifice, the heavy door to the recovery suite swung open.
Gabriel Thorne walked into the room, dressed in an immaculate charcoal power suit, carrying a massive arrangement of white orchids and a state-of-the-art gaming tablet.
“Good morning, Lucas,” Gabriel said smoothly, setting the orchids on the windowsill before approaching the foot of the hospital bed. “I see you are finally awake.”
Lucas looked between Gabriel’s imposing, expensive figure and the massive diamond ring on his sister’s finger, his jaw dropping slightly.
“Clara... who is this guy?” Lucas asked, his protective brotherly instincts trying to resurface despite his extreme physical exhaustion.
“This is Gabriel Thorne, Luke,” Clara said quickly, her cheeks burning as she looked up at Gabriel’s calm, unreadable face. “He is... he's my fiancé.”
“Your what?!” Lucas croaked, trying to sit up before Clara gently pressed him back down into the hospital pillows.
Gabriel walked around to the other side of the bed, resting his large hand on the metal rail as he looked down at the younger boy with genuine warmth.
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“Your sister and I kept our relationship quiet until we knew you were going to be alright, Lucas,” Gabriel lied smoothly, without a single trace of hesitation.
“Your only job right now is to recover, use this new tablet to beat your high scores, and prepare to be my best man at the wedding.”
