BY CONTRACT: His to own

Chapter 11

The morning air was cold and sharp like the nerves crawling beneath Ava’s skin. She sat in the passenger seat of Damien’s car, her fingers clutching the hem of her coat so tightly, that her knuckles turned white. Her legs refused to stop shaking.

They had barely spoken during the drive. Damien’s hands gripped the steering wheel, his jaw tight and his expression unreadable. The only sound in the car was the rhythmic hum of the engine and the soft sound of Ava’s anxious breathing.

As the hospital came into view, a wave of nausea rolled through her.

Her little sister, Lily was about to be cut open, and no matter how many times the doctor had reassured her, Ava’s heart wouldn’t stop pounding. Each beat felt like it might break something inside her.

When the car rolled to a stop, Damien turned off the engine and got out. He didn’t say a word. He walked to her side and opened the door. Ava hesitated for a second, her eyes staring straight ahead. Her mind was swimming.

“Ava,” Damien said, firm but not unkind.

She looked up at him. There was no softness in his eyes but something steady. Something strong. It anchored her for a moment. She nodded silently and stepped out of the car.

They walked side by side through the hospital entrance, but it felt like there was a wall between them. The weight of reality pressed harder with every step they took down the long white corridor.

At the front desk, the same secretary from yesterday greeted them with a polite nod. “Dr. Elise is expecting you. You can head to the surgical waiting area.”

Ava's stomach twisted.

As they reached the waiting room, Ava’s knees felt weak. She sat down immediately, burying her face in her hands. Her breath was coming too fast.

“She’s going to be okay,” Damien said as he stood beside her. His voice was low and calm but Ava wasn’t calm. Her fingers dug into her scalp.

“You don’t know that,” she whispered, barely audible.

Damien crouched down so he was at her eye level. “She will be. This hospital is the best. And you’ve done everything you could, Ava.”

Ava raised her eyes slowly to meet his. “What if I lose her?” she choked. “She’s all I have.”

Damien didn’t flinch. “Then hold onto that. That’s why you have to be strong. For her.”

His words felt like ice and fire at once. So cold. So direct. But maybe she needed that. Maybe it was the only thing keeping her from falling apart.

Before she could respond, the door opened. Dr. Elise stepped in, wearing surgical scrubs and a serious expression.

“It’s time,” she said.

Ava stood up immediately. Her breath caught in her throat.

“You’ll have to wait here,” the doctor continued, her tone professional but not cold. “The surgery will take about four hours. I’ll come out as soon as it’s done.”

Ava’s lips trembled. “Please… take care of her.”

Dr. Elise gave a firm nod. “We will.”

And just like that, she was gone.

Ava sank back into her seat, numb. The world outside that waiting room felt distant and unreal. She stared at the floor, her mind spinning. Each minute stretched on forever.

Damien remained standing for a while, hands in his pockets. Watching her. Then, finally, he sat down beside her, saying nothing. There was nothing to say.

But he stayed.

Time was cruel inside the waiting room.

The white clock on the wall ticked loudly, the second hand moving in steady circles as if mocking the chaos inside Ava’s heart. Each minute that passed felt like a lifetime. Her fingers trembled on her lap, and she kept glancing at the swinging doors, hoping they would open and Dr. Elise would walk in with good news.

But the doors stayed shut.

Ava sat hunched over, elbows on her knees, eyes blank. She didn’t cry anymore, not because she wasn’t hurting, but because she felt like the tears had dried up. All that was left now was fear. A hollow fear that gnawed at her ribs and made her stomach twist.

Damien sat beside her, his long legs stretched in front of him, arms crossed over his chest. He hadn’t said a word in the last hour. But he was watching her. Quietly. Closely. Like he was trying to understand something he couldn’t quite figure out.

At one point, Ava stood up suddenly and walked to the hallway, pacing back and forth with her arms wrapped around herself. Damien didn’t follow, but she could feel his eyes on her. She leaned against the cold wall and closed her eyes.

Why does this feel like punishment? she thought bitterly. Why does everything I care about keep slipping through my fingers?

She thought of her father. His silent, cold death. She thought of Ethan, the betrayal that still clawed at her chest. She thought of her mother, who died due to depression.

And then she thought of Lily, hooked to machines, her body so still, too still.

A sob escaped her throat.

She didn’t even realize she was crying again until warm tears were sliding down her cheeks. She wiped them away quickly, angry at herself. Angry at everything.

She turned sharply to go back to the waiting room and nearly collided with Damien, who had silently walked up behind her. He stood tall, hands in his pockets, his eyes on her face. They were unreadable again but something in them flickered. Just a shadow of emotion.

“I told you to sit down,” he said quietly.

“I can’t sit,” Ava whispered. “I feel like if I stop moving, I’ll fall apart.”

Damien didn’t respond for a moment. Then he slowly reached into his coat and pulled out a bottle of water. “Drink this. You’re shaking.”

Ava hesitated before taking it. Their fingers brushed briefly, and for a split second, she hated how steady his hand felt. How calm he looked, even when she was breaking.

She took a small sip, then another.

“Do you think she’ll be okay?” she asked, voice small.

“Yes,” Damien answered immediately, without hesitation.

Ava stared at him. “How can you be so sure?”

“Because I made sure the best people are working on her. And because you need her. And I don’t believe the world is that cruel.”

Ava gave a bitter laugh. “That’s funny coming from you.”

Damien looked at her, something sharp flashing in his eyes but he didn’t respond.

She wanted to scream at him, hit him, and ask why he was helping her when he was also controlling her. But her strength was gone.

Instead, she turned and walked back to the chair. She curled up there, legs tucked beneath her, her arms wrapped tightly around her body.

“I don't have anyone else, she’s my only family. I can't lose her, I will die if anything happens to her.

Damien didn’t say anything. But after a few moments, he sat beside her again.

“You’re stronger than you think,” he said, his voice lower this time.

Ava turned her face away. “I don’t feel strong. I feel like I’m barely holding on.”

There was silence between them. Heavy. Raw.

Then suddenly, Ava asked, “Why are you helping me?”

Damien turned his head slowly. “Because I can.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“No,” he replied, “but it’s the only one you’ll get… for now.”

Before Ava could respond, the door to the surgical wing swung open.

Ava’s heart leaped into her throat.

Dr. Elise stepped out, pulling off her gloves. Her expression was unreadable at first and then, slowly, she smiled.

“She made it through,” the doctor said gently. “The surgery was a success.”

Ava’s legs gave out as she stood up. She gripped the edge of the chair, tears flooding her eyes again, but this time, they were tears of relief. Her lips trembled, and she looked at Damien as if searching for confirmation that this was real.

Damien gave a small nod.

“She’ll be taken to recovery shortly,” Dr. Elise added. “You’ll be able to see her soon.”

Ava choked out a breath. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”

The doctor nodded and turned to leave.

As the door closed again, Ava covered her face and wept into her palms, relieved, exhausted, overwhelmed. Damien reached into his pocket and handed her another tissue without a word.

This time, she took it gently.

Later that night, as Ava sat quietly beside her sister’s hospital bed, Damien stepped out to take a call.

He leaned against the far wall, eyes sharp as he spoke into the phone.

“Thank you for your work.”

A pause.

“No… she doesn’t know anything yet.”

Another pause.

Then his voice dropped, cold and firm:

“Make sure it stays that way.”