Forbidden Heir (The Heirs 8)

“Thank you, Sarah.”

She gives my arm a squeeze, and as I walk to where the car is parked, I feel her eyes on me.

Chapter 14

DANNY

I didn’t go back to the office but instead had the chauffeur drop me off at home. I somehow managed to keep it together long enough to call Christopher. I told him I suddenly came down with the flu and will only be back tomorrow.

Sitting on the couch in the dark while hugging a Kleenex box, I listen to my phone ring for what must be the hundredth time, but I can’t bring myself to answer it.

Pulling my laptop closer, I sniffle as I open it and type Glioblastoma in the search space.

I scroll to Wikipedia and begin to read about the tumor. My eyes stop on a specific section, and I keep rereading it.

The typical duration of survival following diagnosis is 12 to 15 months, with fewer than 3 to 7% of people surviving longer than five years. Without treatment, survival is typically three months.

I’m going to die.

I slam the laptop shut and let out a rage-filled scream. My breaths explode over my lips as I get up. I begin to pace the length of my living room and then stop in front of the windows. My eyes dart wildly over all the lights shining from nearby buildings.

This isn’t happening.

I slam a fist against the window as a cry rips from me.

This is not happening to me.

I’m only thirty-two.

I finally found the love of my life.

Thinking of Ryker, my lips part on a silent scream as dry sobs begin to shudder through me. I drop to my knees, leaning against the window.

I don’t want to die.

My breathing comes out in short, panicked gasps.

What’s after life? Heaven? Hell? Nothing?

What happens to me when I die?

The panic and fear flooding me forces me back to my feet.

I’ve never been a religious person. Religions only span over the last ten thousand years, where the earth is billions of years old, so I could never bring myself to believe in something so short-lived in the grand scheme of things.

Mom once told me my grandmother believed our essence returns to nature. Mom believes it too.

That’s not so bad. Right?

I’ll become a part of the flowers, the trees, butterflies. I’ll still be here in some way.

I latch onto the thought because it’s better than nothing. It’s better than wondering whether heaven or hell waits on the other side of death.

I’ll lose my mind if I have to try and solve the ultimate mystery of life, which I’ll soon have to face on my own.

No one will be able to hold my hand once I’m dead. It will just be me, and whatever’s on the other side.

Oh God.

I begin to heave and run for the bathroom. My body convulses as I empty my stomach. When there’s nothing left to bring up, I slump back against the tub and stare at the wall.

I’m going to die.

At this rate, I’m going to go insane long before I die.

Get up, Danny.

I push to my feet and brush my teeth.

Get your shit together.

The wedding is the day after tomorrow. Just make it through this weekend.

You can lose your mind on Monday.

Lifting my eyes to the mirror, I keep repeating the words until the hopeless loss and fear retreats.

Feeling a little calmer, I walk to the living room. My phone begins to ring again, and glancing at it, I see Ryker’s name flashing on the screen.

Needing to hear his voice, I pick up the phone and answer the call.

“Hi,” I croak, my voice raw from all the crying.

“Fuck, I was a second away from punching the concierge,” he grumbles.

“You’re here?” I ask, a numb feeling spreading through my body.

“Yeah. Let me up.”

“I don’t want to give you the flu.”

“Let me up, Daniele,” he orders.

“Okay,” I whisper, too exhausted to fight.

I slump back on the couch, surrounded by snotty tissues. I pick up the Kleenex box and hug it to my chest as I sniffle.

Hey, at least I have an excuse for why I look like death.

A sob rattles through me, and as I try to swallow it down, a hard lump forms in my throat.

The elevator opens, and when Ryker comes in, I begin to tremble from the effort it takes to not break down again.

He takes one look at me. “God, Danny.” Coming over to me, he moves the snotty tissues as if they’re nothing and sits down. He wraps an arm around my shoulders and pulls my head to his chest. “Did you get meds?”

I nod as my breath rattles over my lips.

Ryker places his palm on my forehead then says, “You feel warm. Let’s get you in comfy clothes and in bed. Have you eaten?”

I shake my head and whisper, “I’m not hungry.”

Ryker slips an arm underneath my knees and lifts me to his chest as he gets up. As he carries me to my room, I take a deep breath of him.