Love And Vengeance

The soft beeping was the first thing Georgia heard. Slow, steady, like a heartbeat that wasn’t hers. The white ceiling above her came into view next, and for a moment, she didn’t know where she was. Everything felt hazy, the smell of antiseptic, the chill of the room, the weight in her chest. Then it all came rushing back. The faint words from last night. Her father’s voice breaking. Zanetti. Her real father. Her lips parted, a shaky breath slipping out. The edges of her memory blurred, her father’s sad eyes, Mark’s silence, the way her whole world had tilted before everything went black. She blinked slowly, trying to sit up, but a dull ache ran down her neck. She stopped halfway, sinking back against the pillow. The IV tugged gently at her arm. Her fingers brushed over the tape and she let out a soft groan. “Hey… easy there,” a tired voice said beside her. Georgia turned her head slightly. Mark sat in the chair by her bed, his hair messy, eyes heavy with exhaustion. There was a takeout coffee cup on the small table near him and his jacket was half hanging off the chair. He looked like he hadn’t slept. “Mark?” Her voice was rough, soft like sandpaper. He straightened up immediately. “Hey, you’re awake.” He leaned forward, his relief showing through the tiredness. “How are you feeling?” She blinked again, unsure how to answer. “Like I got hit by a truck,” she muttered weakly. He let out a small laugh, short and nervous. “You scared the hell out of us, you know that?” She tried to smile, but her lips barely curved. “I’m sorry,” she said quietly, her gaze drifting away. “How long was I out?” “Almost a day,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “Dad stayed all night. He just stepped out to get some breakfast.” “Oh.” Her voice came out small. “Dad’s here?” “Yeah.” Mark leaned back in his chair, his eyes on her. “He’s been worried sick. We both were.” Georgia nodded, her throat tightening. “I didn’t mean to...” She stopped mid-sentence. What could she even say? She hadn’t chosen to faint. Her body just… gave up. Maybe that was the only way it knew how to handle the truth. Mark studied her quietly for a moment. His expression softened. “About what Dad told you yesterday…” he started, voice cautious. Georgia froze. Her hands clenched around the blanket. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said quickly, her voice too calm. Mark’s lips parted, but he didn’t say anything for a second. He just looked at her, really looked at her, and he saw it. The denial. The wall she’d built overnight. He sighed quietly, leaning back. “Right,” he said softly. “Forget I said anything.” Silence fell between them. The kind that stretches, heavy and thick, filling every corner of the room. Georgia stared at the ceiling again. The sunlight slipped through the blinds, painting faint lines across her blanket. Her chest rose and fell in slow, shallow breaths. She could still hear her father’s voice echoing in her head. Her heart thudded painfully at the memory. It didn’t sound real. It couldn’t be. Zanetti, the man who wanted to ruin their lives, the man who wanted her dead, who sent killers after her... him? Her father? No. She refused to believe it. Her eyes burned, but she blinked fast, swallowing the sting away. “Did the doctor say anything?” she asked, her tone suddenly careful, like she needed to talk about anything else. Mark rubbed his face. “Just that you fainted from shock. They want to keep you for observation today. You should rest.” “I’m fine,” she said too quickly. He gave her a look, the kind of look that said no, you’re not. But he didn’t push. Mark had always known when not to. That was one of the things she loved about him. He was her brother, not by blood, maybe, but by everything that mattered. He reached for her hand and squeezed it gently. “I don’t know what Dad expected, telling you that way,” he murmured. “He should’ve waited. You’ve been through enough.” Georgia didn’t look at him. “He thought I deserved to know,” she said quietly, almost to herself. “Maybe,” Mark said. “But that doesn’t mean you have to accept it.” Her eyes flicked to his, surprised. He smiled faintly. “You’re still my sister. I don’t care what any blood test says.” That broke something inside her, a quiet sob caught in her chest, but she bit it back. Her lips trembled, and she turned her face away. “You always know what to say,” she whispered. He chuckled lightly. “That’s my job, remember? Keep you from losing it completely.” She tried to laugh too, but it came out shaky. “Not sure you’re doing a great job then.” “Well,” he said, grinning softly, “I’ll try harder.” For a moment, it felt almost normal. Almost. Then the quiet crept back in. Mark checked his phone. “I should call Dad, tell him you’re awake,” he said, standing up. She nodded. “Okay.” He took a step toward the door but hesitated. “Georgia?” “Yeah?” He looked at her for a long second. “You don’t have to pretend with me.” She smiled faintly, though it didn’t reach her eyes. “I’m not pretending.” He sighed, clearly not believing her. “Right. I’ll be back soon.” The door clicked shut behind him. The room fell silent again, except for the steady beeping of the monitor and the faint hum of the air conditioner. Georgia stared at the door long after he was gone. Her hand drifted to the small table beside her. Her phone was there, the screen black, silent. She hesitated, then reached for it. The cold surface pressed against her palm as she woke it up. No missed calls. No messages. No Lucian. Her throat tightened. She blinked at the screen, hoping maybe it was a mistake. Maybe she had bad signal. Maybe... No. It was clear. Nothing. He hadn’t called. He hadn’t even texted. Her chest ached in a way that medicine couldn’t fix. She told herself it was fine, that he was probably busy, that he didn’t know she was here. But deep down, she knew Lucian always knew. He always found her. Always came when she needed him. Except now. Maybe it was for the best. Maybe she didn’t want to see the look in his eyes if he found out the truth. That the man who almost ruined her life… was her father. Her hands trembled slightly as she placed the phone back down. She stared at the blank screen until her reflection blurred. A tear rolled down her cheek before she could stop it. She wiped it away quickly, pressing her lips together. “You’re fine,” she whispered to herself. “You’re fine.” But she wasn’t. She was falling apart quietly, piece by piece, in a white hospital room that suddenly felt too big. When the door opened again, she quickly wiped her eyes. Mark peeked in, holding a sandwich bag and a cup of coffee. “Dad’s getting you some soup,” he said gently. “He said he’ll be back soon.” Georgia nodded without meeting his eyes. “Okay.” Mark paused, watching her. He didn’t ask about the tears. He didn’t mention the phone in her hand. He just gave her a small, tired smile. “Try to eat something when he gets here, yeah?” She nodded again. “Yeah.” He smiled, then turned to leave, the door closing softly behind him. Georgia leaned her head back against the pillow. Her heart felt heavy, her thoughts too loud. She looked at the ceiling again, whispering to no one: “You promised you’d always come back to me, Lucian…” But only silence answered.