Chapter 193 – An Unbreakable Vow with the Heartless Tycoon

“Well, sir, he’s going to want to know how she was injured in the first place,” Robert explains. “I can give him a gentler version of the story, of course, but it’ll be impossible to erase your involvement completely. And he could question any of the bodyguards at any time to see if they tell the same version.”

Waylen wants to hit Robert. “So?” he asks again. “I don’t give a damn what you tell him, just do your job.”

Robert shifts his weight uncomfortably. “He’s not going to be happy that you risked your life to save her again. True, she carries the heir. But if something had happened to the both of you—well, then there’d never been an heir at all.”

Waylen scowls and rubbed his temples, slumping lower into the chair. Robert is right. His grandfather will be furious when he finds out what happened on the helicopter—possibly even more furious than he was after the snake incident.

Robert clears his throat. “Mr. Bamford, why don’t you change into a fresh suit?” he asks. “I know you’ve been through a lot, but the family has an image to maintain, and this hospital is not quite as private as it seems.”

Waylen looks down at his rumpled and windblown suit. One pant leg is torn, and Leilani’s dried blood stains his white shirt. He sighs and nods, but before Robert can bring him a fresh suit, the door to the operating room swings open. The head surgeon steps out, still wearing gloves and a mask.

His scrubs are covered in large splotches of fresh blood, and there’s a red stain on his mask. He pulls the mask down, streaking more blood across his sweaty face. “The baby is—”

“How’s Leilani?” Waylen asks, interrupting the surgeon.

“She’s stable,” the surgeon answers. “Badly injured, but stable. As long as there are no complications, we expect her to make a full recovery.”

Waylen feels his entire body relax. “And the baby?” he asks.

The surgeon looks down at the floor. “We’ve saved the pregnancy for now,” he says, “But Mrs. Bamford suffered some terrible injuries. Her entire abdominal region was damaged, and that could have unexpected effects on the fetus’ health and development.”

“What are you saying?” Waylen asks, his voice flat and cold.

“I’m saying that the pregnancy is dangerous,” the doctor says nervously. “Right now, we give it a 50% chance, and that’s only if Mrs. Bamford carefully follows our recovery plan. They both have a long road ahead of them. There may come a time when we have to make a choice—”

“Try your best to save the baby,” Waylen says. “But if you need to make a choice between the baby and Leilani, choose Leilani.”

The surgeon nodded reassuringly. “Yes, Mr. Bamford,” he says. “Of course, we’re hoping for the best, but Leilani is young and healthy. Rest assured, her injuries won’t prevent her from becoming pregnant again in the future.”

Waylen barely hears the surgeon. The operating room doors swing open again, and a team of nurses wheels Leilani out of the room. Her eyes are closed, her hair is matted, and her face is pale, but she’s breathing. Waylen turns sharply and follows her down the hallway.

Leonie flees back down the hall when she hears the squeak of the stretcher’s rubber wheels. She throws herself into a waiting room chair near the elevator bank and hides her face behind an old magazine. Her heart pounds in her ears. She can’t believe Waylen told the surgeon to save Leilani over the baby.

I thought he had a deal with his grandfather, Leonie thinks. If Leilani gives him a child, Diana can come back from her exile. If he really loves Diana, it makes no sense for him to choose Leilani over the baby. Ugh, that woman is so lucky. Somehow, she’s managed to make Waylen forget about my sister and ignore me, and now she’s somehow survived the helicopter.

Leonie peeks over the magazine and sees some nurses wheeling Leilani into the elevator. Waylen follows closely on their heels. He waves his hand impatiently, and most of the nurses wait to take the next elevator.

“That’s Mrs. Bamford, you know,” gossip one of the nurses. “An old classmate works at St. Peter’s Hospital, and he said he always saw her with Dr. Meyers.”

“Speaking of Dr. Meyers, does anyone know what happened to him?” another nurse asks. “I have friends at St. Meyers too, and no one has seen him in weeks. They say his father has stopped coming to the hospital too.”

One of the nurses glances in Leonie’s direction, and Leonie quickly hides behind the magazine. The nurse lowers her voice, but it carries across the room, “I heard that Dr. Meyers is dead, and it has to do with the Bamford’s.”

“What, you mean like, the Bamford’s killed Dr. Meyers?” one asks incredulously.

“It’s just silly gossip,” scolds the first. “We need to be careful about what we say, too. We don’t want anyone to find out that we’re gossiping on the job.”

The elevator dings, and the nurses get on. Leonie lowers the magazine and watches them as she tries to form a plan.

As the stretcher enters the elevator, it jolts slightly. “Watch it,” Waylen snaps at the nurses. Terrified he’ll miss something, he doesn’t look away from Leilani’s face. He tightly grips the corner of the stretcher and follows her to a luxury ICU room.

The nurses efficiently change the IV bag and attach Leilani to a heart monitor. They nod politely at Waylen and file out of the room, but he barely notices them. Leilani looks pale and strangely swollen. Her breathing is shallow, but the steady blips of the heart monitor reassure him.

He gently runs one finger across her forehead, down her cheek and around her lips. Her skin is soft and warm—too warm. Slowly and carefully, he leans down and brushed his lips against her forehead as delicately as if he were touching a butterfly wing. Then he takes her slender hand in his large, rough one.

Somethings twists painfully inside him. She looks so small and defenseless in the large hospital bed. He rubs her hand and strokes her exposed arm. “Leilani, you’ll be alright,” he whispers, “I won’t let anything happen to you or the baby.” But his words sound empty aloud—he knows he’s powerless to help her now.

There’s a small boy who looks just like Waylen did in his baby pictures. He sits on a red tricycle and blows a soap bubble. His lips sputter, and the bubble grows bigger and bigger before it breaks free from the wand and drifts up in the air. The boy laughs with delight and blows more. The bubbles turn colorful in the sun, and the boy chases after them on his trike.

“Mommy! Mommy! Look!” the little boy shouts. He hops off his bicycle and runs toward Leilani, holding his arms in front of him so she can pick him up. Before he can reach her, Waylen swoops him up and puts him on his strong shoulders. The boy squirms with happiness.

Waylen turns his back to Leilani and walks with the child toward the sun. Leilani squints at their silhouettes. “Waylen—wait for me!” she shouts. He doesn’t seem to hear her, and she calls out for him again and again as he walks away and disappears from sight.

With a gasp, Leilani opens her eyes. A blurry round shape comes closer to her head. She blinks, and Waylen’s tired and careworn face gets clearer. There are dark circles under his eyes and creases in his forehead. His suit is wrinkled and stained, and his hair is standing on end.

“Did you dream about me?” he whispers. “Tell me what happened.”

Leilani blinks groggily. Her throat feels dry, and her mouth tastes like cotton. “No, I didn’t,” she croaks. “How long have I been out?”

“A while—you had a lot of healing to do,” Waylen says.

Leilani looks around the room without really seeing it. Bits and pieces of her ordeal in the helicopter come flashing back. Suddenly, she gasps and reaches for her abdomen. “The baby?” she asks.

“The baby is okay, but you both need to rest,” Waylen says. “I’m not going to lie to you, the situation is dangerous, but I think you can both pull through it. And I’ll be here every step of the way.”

Leilani slowly exhales, and Waylen places a gentle hand on her forehead. The weight of his palm is calming, and she closes her eyes again. Waylen strokes her forehead, and she feels his warm breath on her ear.

“You can’t sleep yet, darling,” he whispers. “The doctors say you need to try to eat some real food. They’re bringing porridge for you soon. Does that sound good?”

Leilani shakes her head. The thought of food makes her stomach turn and her headache. He keeps his face next to her ear, and the intimacy makes her uncomfortable. Abruptly, she turns her head away from him and stares at the abstract watercolors on the wall.

“Hey, Leilani,” Waylen says, gently taking her earlobe between his fingers.

“What is it?” she asks.

“What should I do?” Waylen asks, his voice deep and low. “I want to kiss you.”

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