My mind races as I stare at Logan lying on the floor, blood pooling around him. It’s like a nightmare.
The room spins, and I grab onto the edge of the table for support, trying to steady myself.
I should do something-call for help, scream, anything-but my body won’t move. I’m frozen, watching helplessly as the man I just told I hated clings to life.
“Logan…” I whisper, my voice trembling. He doesn’t respond; his eyes are barely open, and his breath is shallow.
Panic sets in as I realize how dire the situation is. I drop to my knees beside him, my hands hovering over his chest, unsure of what to do.
The blood is everywhere, staining my hands as I press down, trying to stop the bleeding. But it’s too much, too fast.
“Stay with me, Logan. Please,” I plead, tears streaming down my face.
My anger, my hatred-all of it fades away in the face of this brutal reality. All I want is for him to live.
“Don’t you dare die on me. Not like this.”
His eyes flicker as if he’s trying to say something, but no words come out.
The pain on his face is unmistakable. This isn’t how it was supposed to end. I never wanted this, not really.
I let out a loud cry, a scream so piercing that it immediately drew the attention of his bodyguards. They rush to the scene, their faces filled with alarm.
“Logan!” I scream in anguish, my voice trembling with fear.
“Richie, please, do something! I can’t just stand here and watch him die!”
My voice is desperate as Richie frantically starts making calls, trying to get help as quickly as possible.
Within moments, the sound of an approaching ambulance fills the air, and I sigh in relief at how fast they’ve arrived.
As the paramedics rush to Logan’s side. All I can focus on is Logan’s pale face, contorted in pain. His eyes are slightly open.
They move swiftly, carrying him on a stretcher toward the ambulance. As they load him in, I try to climb in after them, but one of the paramedics stops me.
“Miss, you can’t go with us.”
“Hell, I’m damn well going with you,” I say, making an effort to get into the ambulance.
“Who are you to him?” the paramedic asks.
“I’m his damn wife.”
After a brief hesitation, they allow me access.
I climb into the ambulance and take a seat, my eyes never leaving Logan as the doors close behind me.
I reach out, gently taking Logan’s hand. His skin feels cold, and I can sense the tremble in his fingers.
“Stay with me, Logan,” I whisper, my voice trembling. “Don’t you dare leave me like this?”
He doesn’t respond. His eyes are slightly open, and his breathing is shallow. The sight of him so vulnerable is almost too much to bear.
Tears well up, but I blink them back, refusing to let myself break down.
“Please fight and come back to me. I can’t stand losing you,” I say, forgetting how I had hated him and the harsh words I had spoken just minutes ago.
Logan holds onto my face, a small smile crossing his lips. “Nadine…” he whispers.
“Can you please keep quiet, Logan? Now is not the time to waste your energy calling my name,” I snap.
“My feisty wife,” he murmurs, his voice weak but filled with something I’ve never heard before.
“I love you,” he says, then closes his eyes.
My heart skips a beat at his words. Did he just say he loves me? No, I must have misheard him. It has to be an illusion.
“No!” I shout, louder this time, panic rising in my chest. “No, you can’t die on me, Logan!”
One of the paramedics glanced at me, with a stern expression.
“Madame, you have to keep calm while we do our work.”
I press my hand against my mouth, trying to stifle the sobs that threaten to escape.
“No, Logan, please come back to me,” I beg, my voice trembling. “I need you more than life itself. I promise I won’t shout at you. I promise I won’t make you angry. I swear, I won’t snoop into your office again. I promise I’ll be good,”
I ramble on, the words spilling out in a desperate attempt to bring him back.
I never imagined I would find myself in a situation where I’d wish more than anything to see his stoic face again. I think I’d rather have that than see him lying here, lifeless, fighting for his life.
Who could want him dead? I know he’s a dangerous man-he’s said that himself and many others have confirmed his ruthless way of doing business.
Whoever did this, Logan must have stepped on some very dangerous toes.
Soon, we arrived at the hospital.
The ambulance comes to a halt, and the paramedics quickly move Logan out, wheeling him toward the emergency room. I follow closely.
As they push Logan through the swinging doors of the ER, a nurse turns to me.
“Please wait here, ma’am. We’ll do everything we can.”
I nod, unable to find my voice. My legs feel like they might give out beneath me, but I force myself to stay upright.
I want to be with him, to hold his hand, to let him know that I’m here. But all I can do is wait.
Minutes feel like hours as I pace the waiting area, replaying everything that’s happened. How did it come to this?
One moment, we were arguing-fighting about things that seemed so important at the time. And now, none of it matters. The only thing that matters is Logan’s survival.
I glance up every time a nurse or doctor passes by, hoping for news, dreading what they might say.
The doors to the ER finally open, and a doctor steps out. I rush over, my heart in my throat. “How is he?” I ask, my voice trembling.
The doctor gives me a reassuring look.
“He’s stable for now. We managed to stop the bleeding, but he’s not out of the woods yet. We need to take him into surgery to remove the bullet and repair the damage.”
I nod, trying to process the information. “Can I see him? Before he goes into surgery?”
The doctor hesitates for a moment before nodding. “Just for a minute.”
I follow the doctor into the room where Logan lies on a stretcher, surrounded by medical equipment.
His face is pale, and his eyes are closed, but he’s breathing. I approach him slowly, my heart aching at the sight of him so vulnerable.
“Logan,” I whisper, reaching out to touch his hand. I lean down and press a kiss to his forehead, fighting back tears. “I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be here when you wake up.”
The nurses start to move him out of the room, preparing to take him to surgery. I step back, letting them do their job, but every part of me wants to hold on to him, to keep him with me.
Defeated, I step back into the hallway. I’m drained, with no willpower left for anything.
Every time I hear the door open, I look up, hoping for news about Logan. But each time, I’m disappointed as they rush past me without even acknowledging my presence.
I don’t know what to do. I need to inform someone about what has happened; his family needs to know.
I reach into my pocket to pull out my phone, only to realize it isn’t there.
“Shit,” I mutter under my breath.
I can’t leave the hospital. Just then, I look up and see Samantha walking toward me.
Her face is scrunched up in fierce anger.