Reclaiming My Billion Dollar Empire

The soft beeping was the first thing Georgia heard. Slow. Steady. Too calm for how fast her chest was rising and falling. She stared up at the white ceiling, confused for a heartbeat. Nothing felt right. The air smelled like antiseptic, the sheets were stiff, and a cold ache wrapped around her body. Then her memory slammed back into place. Her father’s voice. Mark’s silence. Those words she never thought she would hear. Zanetti. Her real father. Her breath caught. Her fingers curled into the blanket. A sharp sting pricked behind her eyes. She forced herself to breathe, slow and thin, but the air felt too heavy, like it wanted to crush her. She tried to sit up. Pain shot through her neck, and she winced, falling back against the pillow. The IV tugged at her arm. She touched the tape gently and let out a small, tired groan. “Hey… easy,” a rough voice said beside her. Georgia turned her head. Mark sat in a chair, hair messy, eyes dark with worry. His jacket had slipped halfway off the chair, and a half-finished coffee sat near his hand. He looked like he hadn’t slept in twenty-four hours. “Mark?” Her voice was thin and scratchy. He sat up straight at once. “Hey. You’re awake.” Relief warmed his voice, even though his face still looked drained. “How do you feel?” “Like… like a truck hit me,” she whispered. He gave a weak laugh. “You scared the hell out of us.” She tried to smile but it barely showed. “Sorry.” Her throat felt tight. “How long was I out?” “Almost a day,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Dad stayed all night. He just went to grab food.” “Oh.” Her lashes lowered. “Dad’s here?” “Of course.” He leaned back a little. “We both stayed.” Her chest squeezed. “I… I didn’t mean to...” She stopped. What could she say? She didn’t choose to faint. Her body just shut down. Mark watched her carefully. When he spoke again, his voice was slow. “About what Dad told you yesterday...” Georgia froze. Her hands tightened around the blanket. A wall slammed up inside her. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said quickly. He stared at her. Long enough to see the fear behind her calm face. He sighed. “Okay. Forget it.” Silence fell over the room again. The steady beeping filled the space between them. A thin line of sunlight fell across Georgia’s blanket, making everything look too bright and too cold. Her father’s words echoed again, like a ghost whispering right in her ear. Zanetti. Zanetti. Zanetti. No. She couldn’t accept it. She wouldn’t. She swallowed hard. “Did the doctor say anything?” “Just shock,” Mark said. “They want to keep you today. You need rest.” “I’m fine,” she said too fast. He gave her a look. She looked away. Mark reached out and held her hand. His grip was warm, solid, something she could hold onto. “I don’t know why Dad told you like that,” he said. “He should’ve waited.” “He thought I deserved the truth,” she whispered. “That doesn’t mean you have to make it real,” Mark said softly. She looked at him, surprised. He smiled, tired but sincere. “You’re still my sister. I don’t care about blood.” Her eyes filled, but she blinked fast and looked away. “You always know what to say.” “I try,” he said, giving a small smile. “I’ll try even harder.” For a moment, her heart felt a little less heavy. Then he checked his phone. “I should call Dad. He’ll want to know you’re awake.” She nodded. “Okay.” He walked to the door, but paused. “And Georgia?” “Yes?” “You don’t have to pretend with me.” She smiled weakly. “I’m not pretending.” He didn’t believe her, but he didn’t argue. “I’ll be back.” The door closed behind him. Georgia let out a breath she’d been holding for too long. She reached for her phone on the table. Her hand shook a little. She unlocked the screen. No messages. No missed calls. No Lucian. Her chest tightened until it hurt. He always found her. Always called. Always showed up. Except today. Maybe he didn’t know she was in the hospital. Maybe he was busy. Maybe… maybe he didn’t care anymore. Her throat closed. She set the phone down, staring at the blank screen. Her eyes blurred, and one tear slipped out before she could stop it. She wiped it away with the back of her hand. “You’re fine,” she whispered to herself. “You can handle this.” But the truth sat heavy on her chest. When Mark pushed the door open again, holding a sandwich and coffee, she quickly wiped her face. “Dad’s getting soup,” he said softly. “He’ll be back soon.” “Okay.” Her voice was small. He didn’t ask about the tears. He didn’t ask about the phone. He just gave her a gentle nod and slipped back out. When he was gone, Georgia leaned back against the pillow, eyes stinging, heart aching. She stared at the ceiling and whispered into the empty room: “You promised you’d always come back to me, Lucian…” But only silence answered her. Later that night, after Mark and her father had gone home to rest, because she convinced them to. The room went quiet again. Too quiet. The kind of quiet that let her thoughts crawl back in. Georgia lay on her side, staring at the wall. She tried not to think about Zanetti. She tried not to think about bloodlines or secrets or the man who ruined her life. But her mind kept replaying the same scene. Her father’s face. The truth slipping out like a knife. She pulled the blanket up to her chin. The room felt cold in a way she couldn’t explain. Her body was tired, but her brain wouldn’t stop running. Finally, after what felt like hours, her eyelids grew heavy. She sighed and slowly rolled to the other side, trying to find a more comfortable spot. That was when her eyes drifted to the door. Half-asleep, barely aware of anything, she stared at the glass part of the door, the small rectangle where the hallway light slipped through. And she saw someone standing there. Not a shadow. Not a nurse. A woman. A woman with dark hair, soft eyes, and a face that stirred something deep in Georgia’s memory. Her breath hitched. She looked like… No. Her mother had been dead her whole life. She barely remembered her. Just broken pieces of a smile. A soft voice. A warm hand. It had to be in her head. A dream. Her eyes playing tricks on her after too many hours awake. Georgia blinked slowly, and the figure blurred. She told herself it was nothing. Just her mind trying to fill empty spaces. Her body relaxed again, sinking into the bed. Her eyes closed. And she drifted off to sleep… …never noticing that the woman was still there. Watching.