To Love a Shadow, To Be the Sun novel Chapter 232

Zane stood there in the rain, staring at Elara’s retreating figure for what felt like an eternity. It wasn’t until she stumbled, her knees nearly buckling beneath her, that he finally surged forward, breaking through the downpour.

“Elara!” He caught her by the shoulders and spun her around.

Gone was the resilient woman he’d come to know. In her place was someone so fragile, so breakable, it seemed the gentlest touch might shatter her.

“I don’t have anyone left. What am I supposed to do? I don’t even have a home anymore…”

Tears streamed down Elara’s cheeks. Something twisted sharply in Zane’s chest.

He hadn’t expected this.

After so many years brushing shoulders with life and death, he’d thought himself immune, his heart hardened beyond sympathy. And as for Elara, he hardly felt anything more than a passing acquaintance for her.

Yet now, seeing her streaked with rain and tears, lips bitten so hard they’d left a mark—pity welled up in him, unbidden. He felt an overwhelming urge to just pull her close.

So he did. Instinct trumped thought.

Zane wrapped Elara’s shaking, rain-soaked frame in his arms, one hand steady on the back of her head, gently guiding her face to his shoulder. He rocked her like a child, his palm warm and firm on her trembling back. “Your grandfather wanted you to live, Elara. He wanted you to be okay. If he saw you like this, he’d never rest easy. Try not to cry, alright?”

She clutched his shirt, knuckles white, her words coming out in a raw, hiccuping wail. “Why shouldn’t I cry? I can’t even get a divorce and now I’m not allowed to cry either? Who says you get to decide?”

Her defiance burned out as quickly as it flared. The next moment, her whole body went limp in his arms.

Zane’s heart lurched. He scooped her up just as Quincy Shelton came racing over, umbrella flipping inside out in the wind.

“Should I have the hospital prep a private room?” Quincy asked breathlessly.

Casting a quick glance at the looming hospital building, Zane shook his head and turned away, carrying Elara toward the waiting car.

—

The penthouse suite of the Cloudcrest Hotel glowed softly, shielding them from the storm outside.

Zane carried Elara straight into the bathroom. He peeled off his own coat, which he’d wrapped around her, and for a second, he froze. Her summer dress, soaked through, clung to every curve. The fabric was nearly transparent, outlining her figure in a way that was impossible to ignore.

Suddenly, he understood why Brian Vincent had refused to let her go.

Elara’s condition was far from good. The shock, the cold—she’d quickly developed a fever in her unconscious state. Thankfully, the doctor left a full set of medication for every possible scenario.

She lay curled up in the massive bed, Zane’s crisp white shirt swallowing her frame. The collar hung low, exposing the flush of her collarbone. Her lips were chapped, lending her a vulnerable allure he’d never noticed before.

Zane stood at her bedside, watching her intently. For a moment, he wondered if he was the one running a fever.

Quincy came in quietly, carefully mixing the fever medicine before knocking on the door.

Following the rules from Corporate Taboo: A Secretary’s Handbook, he kept his eyes firmly averted from the woman in the bed.

Zane turned, taking the medicine from Quincy’s outstretched hand. But as he pressed the pill to Elara’s lips, he hesitated.

How was he supposed to get her to swallow when she wouldn’t wake up?

Quincy lingered in the doorway, raising his eyebrows and gesturing wildly. “Use your mouth! Give it to her mouth-to-mouth!”

Zane’s expression darkened. He glanced from Quincy’s animated pantomime to the unconscious woman, and for a moment, he almost laughed at the absurdity of it all.