A sequel to His Forbidden Entanglement. (You need to read the first book to understand this one. It cannot be read as a standalone.)
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She ripped a part of him a few years back, and now he's stuck in this messed-up maze, looking in all the wrong s...
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With Alexa now settled in a private room, the anticipation gnawed at my every nerve. My hands, clammy and trembling, betrayed the whirlwind of emotions swirling within me. Axel had left over an hour ago to handle various matters and I can't believe that I actually wanted him to be here when they allowed us to see her. I was waiting for him, my heart was heavy with worry.
He took a bullet for her.
Alexa's father cared enough to take a bullet for her.
For the first time in what felt like an eternity, I handed over the control over my daughter's well-being to someone else. It was a big decision, one that usually scares me to no end, but this time, an unexplainable trust had grown within me. I allowed Axel and his family to take charge, to oversee Alexa's care and treatment.
Call it naiveté or sheer desperation, but I found myself placing my faith in their hands, believing with all my heart that they wouldn't harm her. That they could get her better help than I ever could. At this moment, I had surrendered a piece of myself to them, hoping beyond hope that it would lead to Alexa's recovery.
I sat on the edge of the uncomfortable hospital chair, my fingers tightly interlocked in my lap, anxiety and fear gnawing at my insides. The sterile, white-walled room seemed to close in around me as I waited for the doctor to provide an update on Alexa's condition. Every second felt like an eternity.
The doctors came out of the private room and asked for me. I walked immediately over to them, Charlotte stayed beside me, even holding my hand.
Finally, I mustered the courage to ask the question that had been haunting my thoughts since the moment we arrived at the hospital. "How is she now?" I inquired, my voice trembling with worry.
The doctor met my gaze with a mix of empathy and professionalism. Her eyes held a seriousness that scared me. She took a deep breath before responding, choosing her words with care. "Ms. Miller, the bullet tore through Alexa's frontal lobe," she began, her tone measured. "It's a critical area of the brain, and the damage has been significant. But if luck is on our side, the effects you see will be minimal."
My heart sank like an anchor, and I struggled to maintain composure. "Effects?" I managed to ask, my voice barely louder than a whisper, though every fiber of my being needed to know.
"The immediate effects include dizziness, fatigue, and irritability. These are common symptoms associated with traumatic brain injuries, similar to concussions."
As she spoke, my fists clenched involuntarily, my nails drawing blood, "And if these effects are not minimal?" I asked, my voice shaking with the fear of what her answer might be.
"Our frontal lobes are responsible for executive functions, including decision-making and impulse control. In some patients, we've observed an inability to make decisions, a shorter attention span, and cognitive deficits."
