Chapter 8 

I came to in a private suite at NewYork–Presbyterian. 

Lucy’s scream could’ve woken the whole floor before she practically dove at me, sobbing. 

“Oh my God, Emma! You’re back!” 

– 

“You’ve been out for eighteen days do you have any idea how scared we were?” 

“Nathan was literally dying without you!” 

“Nathan…” His name came out as barely a whisper. 

“He’s here, sweetie. The doctors finally made him get some sleep. God, Emma, you have no idea what this has done to him.” 

While a team of specialists checked my vitals, Lucy filled me in: 

X 

Three days in intensive care. Nathan hadn’t left the hospital for those three days. No food. 

No sleep. Just… waiting. 

When they finally moved me out of the ICU, he just collapsed. Right there in the hallway, like his strings had been cut. 

For the next two weeks, he barely left my side, this ghost of Manhattan’s most powerful CEO. 

“The only time he left?” Lucy held up her phone. “Someone caught this at St. Patrick’s. 

The video showed Nathan kneeling in the snow on the cathedral steps. Snow piling on his Brunello coat as he knelt there, still as a statue, broken yet unwavering. 

The TikTok caption read: “What kind of love makes a man kneel in a blizzard for hours…” 

-Lucy’s voice caught. “God, Emma. The way that man loves you? It’s what we all dream 

about.” 

The Perfect Husband’s Secret 

36.8% 

Chapte 

turned toward the window. Grey, Blurry. Like everything else. I let my eyes close. 

When Nathan burst through the door, I almost didn’t recognize him. Gone was the polished CEO – this was a man undone. His usually sharp eyes were hollow, his bespoke suit hanging 

loose on his frame. 

He crossed to me like he was in a dream, fingers trembling as they traced my face, my eyes. 

“Emma? Baby, you’re really awake?” 

His voice cracked, eyes red–rimmed. 

I just watched him, silent. 

He dropped to his knees beside the bed. “We’ll get through this, angel. Everything will heal. I’m not going anywhere.” 

And he meant it. 

Even though I was conscious, I was still bedridden. Nathan took over everything. 

Y 

Holding water to my lips. Helping the nurses bathe me. Managing my medication schedule like it was a Fortune 500 merger. 

At night, he’d hold me like I might shatter, his whispers soft against my hair: 

“I should have protected you better. No more late meetings. I’ll come straight home to you.‘ 

“If you knew what went through my head outside that ICU… No, I can’t tell you. You’re too tenderhearted – it would break you.” 

“Promise me something, Emma. Promise you’ll never leave me.” 

The hospital staff had never seen anything like it. A billionaire CEO personally changing his wife’s bandages? 

Lucy kept saying she was ruined for other men now – Nathan had set the bar too high. 

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As I graduated from liquids to solids, from lying down to sitting up, I stayed quiet, 

withdrawn. 

Nathan just held me closer. “It’s trauma, baby. You don’t have to talk. Let me take care of everything.“/ 

I was like a wounded animal, hiding away to heal. 

Waiting. Just waiting. 

For body and soul to mend. 

That day, as Nathan meticulously peeled an apple – he did everything meticulously now – I glanced up to see Claire Morrison in the doorway. 

Our eyes met over Nathan’s shoulder. 

we prot 

Gone was the mousy act. She stared right at me, unflinching. 

“Claire’s here,” I said softly. 

Nathan, still focused on creating perfect apple spirals, finished his last cut before turning with practiced casualness. 

“Claire?” His brow furrowed just so. 

“Weren’t those documents handled electronically?” 

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