Chapter 3 - The Broken LionTwo weeks later, I was moved to a private recovery suite on the top floor of the hospital.
I was sitting in a comfortable armchair near the window, wearing a soft silk robe, holding my baby boy in my arms for the first time without IV lines restricting me. He was breathtaking—a healthy, beautiful baby with a full head of dark hair and deep blue eyes that looked up at me with absolute trust.
"His name is Leo," I whispered, brushing my lips against his soft forehead. "Leo Grant."
I had officially stripped Cameron’s surname from my baby’s birth registration.
A soft knock sounded at the door. Julian stepped inside, followed by two armed private security guards who stood outside in the hallway.
"He’s outside, Amelia," Julian said quietly. "He’s been standing in the lobby for three days. His lawyers called my office twenty times begging for ten minutes. Do you want me to send him away forever, or do you want to break him yourself?"
I looked down at Leo, then up at my brother. The vulnerability I had felt on that operating table was completely gone. In its place was the unbreakable strength of a mother who had survived death.
"Let him in," I said calmly. "But stay in the room."
A moment later, the door opened, and Cameron stepped into the room.
If I hadn't known who he was, I wouldn't have recognized him. The handsome, polished, immaculate Chief of Surgery was completely destroyed. His designer suit was wrinkled, his hair unkempt, his face pale and hollow with dark purple circles under his bloodshot eyes. His hands trembled uncontrollably at his sides.
When his eyes fell on me sitting in the chair—holding our baby—his lips quivered, and tears welled up in his eyes.
"Amelia..." he choked out, taking a hesitating step forward. "My God... Amelia..."
"Stop right there, Cameron," Julian warned, stepping between Cameron and my chair, his hand resting casually inside his suit jacket. "One step closer and security will throw you into the street."
Cameron stopped, clutching his chest as if he couldn't breathe.
"Amelia... please," Cameron begged, his voice cracking into pathetic sobs. "I am so sorry... I don't know what happened to me that night. I was stressed, I was arrogant... Sophie lied to me! She made me believe you were trying to ruin her career! I didn't know you were bleeding internally! I swear to God I didn't know!"
I looked at him with an expression of pure, unbothered stillness.
"You turned off my epidural, Cameron," I said, my voice steady, smooth, and colder than liquid nitrogen. "You looked at me while I was screaming in pain, holding a broken bed rail in my bleeding hands, and you told me I was making a spectacle."
"I was wrong!" Cameron cried out, sinking onto his knees right on the hardwood floor, slamming his palms against the ground. "I was a fool! A monster! Please, Amelia, look at me! I lost my position at the hospital! My license is suspended! The press is surrounding my apartment! I have nothing left!"
"You had a wife who loved you, Cameron," I said, looking down at little Leo, who was sleeping peacefully in my arms. "You had a family. You had a partner who built your reputation piece by piece. And you threw it all away for an intern's crocodile tears."
"Give me a second chance!" Cameron wept, crawling forward an inch before Julian’s polished shoe planted firmly in front of his face. "Let me hold my son! Just once! Please, Amelia, he’s my boy!"
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"He is Leo Grant," I replied, looking Cameron dead in the eye with an intensity that made him flinch. "He has no father named Cameron Bennett. You died to us the moment you ordered those nurses to restrain me."
I turned my head toward the window, dismissing him entirely. "Julian, take out the trash."
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