[{"data":1,"prerenderedAt":10},["ShallowReactive",2],{"viewer-data-26032289AC7C-182":3},{"id":4,"number":5,"name":6,"content":7,"isLocked":8,"price":9,"hasRead":8},182,21,"Chapter 21: The Fiance She Did Not Choose","\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Callahan returned to the cafe the next day, but she was already gone.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">The manager told him she had resigned. Standing in the center of the empty shop, Callahan felt a gut-wrenching helplessness he’d never known. His money, his influence, everything he’d built his life around—it was all useless. To her, it was less than nothing.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">He was reduced to watching from the sidelines. Then, one afternoon, he saw her sway while wiping a table. She clutched the edge of the wood, bowing her head, and remained motionless.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">His heart hammered against his ribs. Before he could even think, he was across the room, catching her just as her knees began to buckle.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">\"Maya!\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Her skin was scorching. She had a high fever. His hand flew to her forehead—she was burning up. \"You’re in a bad way. I’m taking you to the hospital.\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Maya tried to push him off, but she was too weak. Her hands fluttered uselessly against his chest. \"Leave me alone.\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">\"Not this time.\" For once, Callahan was iron-willed.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">He scooped her into his arms. She was terrifyingly light—almost weightless. It made his chest ache. He walked past the stunned manager, barked, \"She’s resigned,\" and ignored her faint, gasping protests. He buckled her into his car and sped toward the nearest private medical center.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">The sterile smell of the hospital was suffocating. After a flurry of tests, the doctor emerged, brow furrowed. \"A fever of 103, pelvic inflammatory disease, and an active infection. She’s severely malnourished, anemic, and showing signs of early pneumonia. She needs to be admitted immediately.\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Callahan’s stomach dropped. He handled the paperwork, his focus entirely on the girl in the bed. He watched her pale, fragile face, wishing he could erase the past year. How had she survived this long on her own?\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">When Maya finally woke, the sky outside was ink-black. She blinked, her vision slowly adjusting to the dim room. Callahan was slumped in a chair by her bedside. He looked like hell—stubble shadowing his jaw, deep shadows carved under his eyes.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Their eyes locked.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Maya stared at the ceiling, her voice a ragged whisper. \"Just go.\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Callahan’s eyes stung. He reached out and took her hand—ice cold—and squeezed, trying to force some of his own heat into her. \"I’m not going anywhere. Hate me, resent me—I don’t care. But I’m not letting you suffer alone anymore.\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">\"My life,\" she said, trying to pull away but failing, \"has nothing to do with you.\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">\"It does!\" Callahan looked at her, his voice heavy with a desperation that was terrifying even to him. \"Maya Cole, my life—every breath, every moment—is bound to yours.\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Maya closed her eyes, drained, refusing to look at him again.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">The tension shattered when Ishaan Montgomery walked in. He carried a bouquet of sunflowers and stopped dead when he saw Callahan. Callahan immediately went into predator mode, his posture stiffening, his eyes hard.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">\"Who are you?\" Ishaan asked, frowning at the way Callahan held her hand.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">\"I’m her fiancé.\" Callahan stood, physically blocking Ishaan’s view of her. His voice was glacial.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Ishaan chuckled—a dry, mocking sound. \"Her fiancé? Maya told me she was single. No boyfriend, and definitely no fiancé.\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Callahan’s face darkened, but before he could snap back, Maya’s weak but clear voice drifted from the bed. \"Ishaan, you’re here. Come in.\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Ishaan stepped around the rigid, looming Callahan and walked to the bedside. He tucked the sunflowers into a vase, his entire demeanor softening. \"Feeling better? What did the doctor say?\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">\"Better. It’s just the fever—an old issue,\" Maya replied, her voice warmer than it had been with Callahan.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">\"Good. I brought you some chicken noodle soup. Have a little.\" Ishaan pulled a high-end thermal container from his bag.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">The easy, natural chemistry between them left Callahan feeling like a total outsider. He tried to interject, but Maya shut him down instantly.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">\"Get out.\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Her tone was flat, final. Callahan retreated to the doorway, his back pressed against the cold wall. He listened to their low, intimate laughter and the easy rhythm of their conversation. Jealousy burned through his composure like a wildfire, but he didn't even have the right to walk back in.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Throughout her hospital stay, Callahan barely left her side. He’d never cared for anyone in his life, and his efforts were clumsy, desperate, and ultimately pathetic. He called home, had his personal chef walk him through recipes over the phone, and spent hours in a tiny apartment kitchen trying to make soup. He used too little water, too much salt, and burned his hands on the stovetop, only to end up with a bowl of flavorless mush.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Maya didn't say a word. She didn't even touch the soup. He dumped it, tried again the next day, and kept at it. When she coughed at night, he was awake instantly, propping her up and rubbing her back as she sipped water. When she curled into herself, her shoulders looking impossibly thin, he would hover, his gestures awkward and hesitant.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">She never responded. She never pushed him away. She just existed, drifting there like a hollow, broken doll.\u003C/p>",false,0,1774272930574]