PENELOPE
The sliding doors flew open before I could stop them. The hospital’s lighting hit me like a slap, and my heart was racing so fast it felt like it was trying to outrun time itself.
“Hilton,” I said breathlessly to the nurse at the front desk. “Christian Hilton. He was brought in—stab wound—”
“He’s in surgery,” she replied gently. “They’re stabilizing him. You can wait down the hall—right side. There’s a lounge.”
Surgery.
I nodded and turned down the hallway, ignoring the sterile smell of antiseptic that filled the air. I hated hospitals so much, my mum had been to the most expensive of hospitals and yet there was nothing anyone could do to save her.
Liam stood when he saw me, his suit jacket was wrinkled, and his hair a mess. He didn’t say anything at first. He just held out
