Veronica's POV
The medical staff scattered like startled birds, hauling the sedated Dr. Liam along with them as they bolted from the room.
Charlie followed suit, leaving behind nothing but silence and the two of us.
I studied Leonardo from where I stood. Even battered and broken—head wrapped in gauze, legs imprisoned in casts from knee to ankle—he remained devastatingly attractive. That sharp nose, those lips pressed into a hard line, the dark brows drawn together in fury. His face, carved from stone and ice, still held that magnetic pull that could stop traffic.
I watched him reach blindly toward the nightstand, fingers searching for something just out of reach. The way his eyes moved, unfocused and desperate, told me everything I needed to know.
He couldn't see.
For someone who'd ruled the world from his throne, losing both mobility and sight had to feel like death itself.
Like watching an eagle have its wings ripped away.
I got it. The agony must be eating him alive.
I bent down, scooped up a pillow from the floor, and moved toward the bed.
He couldn't see me coming, but those sharp ears caught my footsteps. "I said get out! Why are you still here? I don't need a damn babysitter! Leave!"
His once-powerful frame lay trapped and useless, his vision swallowed by endless black.
He was drowning in his own personal hell.
The last thing he wanted was witnesses to his humiliation.
"Leave? Not happening. Starting today, I'm your wife, Leonardo."
I positioned the pillow behind his back, brushing off his attempts to push me away.
The moment I got close enough, his hand shot out and clamped around my wrist like a vise. "Wife? I never agreed to marry anybody! You're just some woman they shoved at me. Go back to whatever hole you crawled out of! Did you hear me?"
He shoved me with enough force to send himself tumbling backward onto the mattress.
I stumbled but caught myself, watching this proud, broken man with growing amusement. "I'm not going anywhere! Do you have any idea how many women would kill for this chance? Marrying you makes me Mrs. Nelson, future queen of the Nelson empire. Why would I walk away from a jackpot like that?"
"I don't give a damn what you want. I'll never accept you as my wife!"
His assumption was crystal clear—another gold-digger circling the Nelson fortune like a vulture.
"Accept it or not, I'm your wife now."
I kept my voice steady. "Whether you like it or not, I'm staying right here to nurse you back to health."
This was about settling a debt.
Years back, when my world had crumbled, he'd thrown me a lifeline.
Now his world was ashes, and it was my turn to return the favor.
"I don't need you! I don't need anyone! Are you deaf?"
His voice cracked with raw desperation.
"For someone who just woke up from a coma, Mr. Nelson, you've got impressive lung capacity. Nice and loud. Guess you're not dying on my watch after all."
I could see the hopelessness etched into every line of his face, even as rage continued to burn in his sightless eyes.
My teasing only seemed to stoke his fury higher. How dare I joke when he was falling apart?
I pulled back the blanket and gave his foot a firm pinch.
Pain flashed across his features. "What the hell are you doing?"
"You felt that. Your legs are fractured, not paralyzed. And the blindness is probably just swelling pressing on your optic nerves. Once that goes down, your sight should come back."
"You're not a doctor. Keep your opinions to yourself! Get out!"
Instead of backing off, I leaned in closer.
"What are you—"
My hand moved before he could stop me.
Shock froze him for a split second, then he tried to grab my wrist. But I was ready, catching his arm and holding it in place with a wicked smile. "Everything's still working perfectly. Looks like Mr. Nelson can still be a complete man."
"You..."
I watched the shock and humiliation cloud his features. I wondered if anyone had ever dared to touch him like this.
Words failed him completely before he finally managed, "Shameless!"
"Who needs shame? I want you healthy again! The sooner you recover, the sooner I can enjoy being a wealthy Nelson wife! So let's get you better, Leonardo!"
I patted his cheek with deliberate mockery, the sound echoing through the quiet room.
No one had ever had the audacity to touch his face like that.
No woman had ever been bold enough to toy with him this way.
This woman was playing with fire.
His fury was so palpable he could barely seem to breathe. I had no doubt that if he could move, he would be wrapping his hands around my throat right now.
"Get out! Get out! I don't want to see you! Leave!"
"I already told you—I'm not leaving. I'll take care of you until you're completely healed. When you're better, I'll go. And when that day comes, even if you beg me to stay, I might just say no."
I paused, letting that sink in. "You should be grateful you can't see right now. If you could, you'd probably fall head over heels for me. And that would make things very complicated for you."
No matter how he raged or cursed, my responses were like trying to punch cotton—soft, yielding, but impossible to defeat.
Leonardo's chest heaved with each labored breath. The look on his face was one of pure disgust, as if he were thinking, This woman is completely full of herself! Fall for her? What a sick joke.
At the doorway, I called for the maids to clean up the disaster zone.
They crept in nervously, shooting worried glances at the man on the bed, clearly expecting another explosive tantrum.
Instead, they found Mr. Nelson lying still and quiet, staring at nothing with hollow despair written across his features.
I saw the maids exchange curious looks, and I could guess what they were thinking: how had I managed to tame their notoriously volatile master?
While they worked, I headed downstairs, my thoughts drifting to my eldest son. Where was he right now?
I stepped into the garden and caught the sound of children's voices in the distance.
Following the noise, I found some kids under a massive oak tree.
Two chubby boys, still young, were chanting in sing-song voices, "Little mute! Joseph! Luna boy! Cry-baby! Bastard with no mama, drinks his own pee!"
The kid they were tormenting was tiny—probably just a few years old.
Small as he was, he wasn't backing down.
Like a fierce little warrior, he charged at the bigger boys, ramming them with his head.
The bullies tumbled but scrambled back up, grabbing the small boy and wrestling him to the ground. They shoved dirt and dead leaves into his mouth.
"How dare you fight back? We'll teach you a lesson, you little freak!"
They were having the time of their lives, clapping and howling with laughter.
The small boy fought his way back to his feet, ready for another round.
But he was no match for two against one. Blood trickled from his nose, dirt smeared his face, yet he refused to surrender.
Even pinned to the ground, his eyes blazed with defiant fire.
My heart clenched as I got close enough to see his face clearly.
Through the grime and blood, the resemblance to Daniel and Brad was unmistakable.
My eldest son. The child I'd given birth to all those years ago.
They called him a mute. Did that mean he couldn't speak?
Watching my son endure this torture felt like someone was twisting a knife in my chest.