THE PAWN AND THE KING

8

I took a deep breath as I stepped out of the car, the faint hum of the hospital's revolving doors drawing closer with each hesitant step. The overcast sky reflected the heaviness in my chest, a dull grey that seemed to match the weight of the situation. I didn't want to be here. The hospital was a reminder of everything—Everything I didn't want to remember.

The automatic doors slid open with a soft hiss, ushering me into the sterile, almost suffocating atmosphere of the hospital lobby. The scent of antiseptic clung to the air, stinging my nostrils as I made my way to the reception desk. The bright overhead lights felt harsh, buzzing like a reminder that everything here was clinical, distant, and cold. A sharp contrast to the storm brewing inside me.

My shoes clicked softly against the polished linoleum floor as I headed toward the elevators. I rubbed my sweaty palms against my dress, smoothing out imaginary creases that wouldn't go away. The closer I got to my father's room, the tighter the knot in my stomach became.

I hated hospitals. The stillness in the air, the hushed voices behind closed doors, the faint beeps of machines working tirelessly to sustain fragile lives—it made me feel like I was intruding on something too personal, too raw. Like I didn't belong. But I was here, whether I liked it or not.

The elevator dinged, and I stepped inside, feeling the world closing in around me as the doors slid shut. It felt almost impossible to breathe. I had no idea what would greet me when I stepped out of this elevator, but I knew it wouldn't be easy.

When the doors opened to my father's floor, I felt my heart begin to pound in my chest. The hallway was too familiar now—sterile white walls, nurses bustling back and forth, the muffled conversations of doctors and patients mixing with the distant hum of machines. I counted the numbers on the doors as I walked, each step drawing me closer to the confrontation I'd been dreading.

And there she was, standing just outside my father's room like a sentinel guarding a fortress—Gloria. Her back was turned to me, but even from here, I could feel the tension radiating off her. She knew I was coming.

I stopped a few feet away, my breath catching in my throat. For a moment, I considered turning back, walking away from all of this. But that was a coward's way out, and I couldn't afford to be a coward anymore. So, I stepped forward, the sound of my heels drawing her attention. Gloria turned slowly, her face already set in a hard, unforgiving line.

"Lila," she said, her voice as sharp as the look she gave me. "What are you doing here?"

I swallowed the lump in my throat, trying to muster whatever strength I could find within myself. "I came to see my father."

Her eyes narrowed, disbelief and anger flashing in them. "Your father?" she echoed, her voice dripping with venom. "You have the audacity to show up here after everything you've done?"

I felt the sting of her words hit me, like tiny cuts I couldn't defend myself against. I opened my mouth to speak, but nothing came out. How could I explain? I was stuck in the middle of two worlds, both of them demanding my loyalty, and I had no idea how to choose. My father was my blood, but Raeland... Raeland was my husband. My life. The lines between right and wrong had long since blurred, and I couldn't even figure out where I stood anymore.

"I just want to see him," I finally managed to say, my voice sounding weaker than I intended.

Gloria's lips curled into a sneer. "See him? After pointing a gun at him? After siding with that man—Raeland Moretti?" She spat his name like poison, as though just saying it could make her sick.

I flinched, but I couldn't deny it. She wasn't wrong. I had sided with Raeland, though I never meant for things to spiral this far out of control. But here I was, standing on the other side of a war I never wanted to be part of.