Brielle’s POV
The hospital room was quiet except for the rhythmic beeping of machines. Gregory lay pale and still, an oxygen mask over his face, wires hooked to his chest. Brielle sat in the corner, arms wrapped tightly around her knees, her eyes swollen and red from hours of crying.
Fiona stood at his bedside, brushing his hair back like he was still her young husband, not the man who had built an empire on secrets and pain. Her fingers trembled, but her voice when she finally spoke was steady. "He always thought he could carry it all. The pressure, the lies, the damage. But it breaks everyone eventually."
Brielle looked up. "Is he going to wake up?"
Fiona nodded slowly. "The doctor says he just needs rest. The collapse was due to stress. Heart irregularities, exhaustion. He’ll recove
