Chapter 125: The Other Elevator

Dominic still hadn’t decided what he wanted to do about the kidney.

Before today’s revelation, he’d been damn sure he was the obvious choice: the better match and the considerably less busy son.

A lot of sick people would probably kill to have even one willing living donor, and this guy had somehow managed to get two offers from his sons.

If the illness didn’t kill him, his pride might.

Unfortunately, standing in his father’s hospital room wasn’t making Dominic’s own decision any easier.

The shift in their family dynamics bothered him more than he wanted to admit.

Yesterday, Andrei had been his half-brother, Helena had been Andrei’s mother, and Conrad had been their divorced father.

Today, Conrad and Helena were married.

Dominic understood perfectly well that a marriage certificate didn’t suddenly erase him from the family. He wasn’t five years old, no matter how strongly the situation was currently tempting him to behave like one.

Still, understanding something logically and actually liking it were apparently two entirely different things.

He’d volunteered his kidney because Conrad was his father.

That hadn’t changed.

Except now Dominic couldn’t stop wondering where exactly he fit into this rearranged family.

Conrad had Helena again.

Andrei had both of his biological parents married to each other, even if it had taken them several decades to accomplish it.

Dominic had...

Well.

His mother.

At least Victoria would probably be delighted to know she’d won custody of the problematic adult son in a divorce that hadn’t required anyone to discuss custody at all.

Dominic almost smiled.

Almost.

Then he remembered why he was standing there in the first place.

He finally picked up his things and nodded toward the bag he’d brought.

"Eat the soup while it’s still hot."

Conrad looked at him. "Dominic, stay."

"Sorry. I need time."

His father didn’t try to stop him, and Helena seemed to understand that following him would only make things worse.

Dominic left before either of them could change his mind.

The hospital had two elevators large enough for patient transport, positioned side by side with doors at both ends to make moving beds and equipment easier.

Dominic entered one going down.

At almost the same time, the other arrived carrying Victoria up.

The doors closed between them without either knowing the other had been there.

Had Dominic been thirty seconds slower, he might’ve been able to warn his mother.

Instead, Victoria Sebastian stepped out of the elevator and headed toward Conrad’s room completely unprepared for what she was about to find.

She’d come because Dominic had told her Conrad was still being stubborn about the transplant.

Apparently, stubbornness ran in the family.

Both of his sons were willing to donate a perfectly healthy kidney, yet Conrad remained determined to reject them. The waiting list for a deceased donor was long enough that Victoria had spent most of the drive thinking of increasingly creative ways to convince the man to accept the living donor already being offered to him.

She’d intended to start with reason.

Whether she’d eventually have to resort to threats remained to be seen.

Victoria had even considered calling his doctor beforehand and asking precisely how much emotional blackmail a recovering patient could safely tolerate.

She’d decided against it.

Mostly because she suspected the answer would be none, and Victoria preferred not to restrict her options unnecessarily.

Besides, she knew Conrad.

At least, she’d once known him well enough.

Ordering him around would accomplish nothing. Pleading would probably be worse, and pointing out that both of his sons were grown men capable of deciding what they wanted to do with their own kidneys had apparently already failed.

Perhaps she’d simply sit beside his bed and annoy him until accepting Dominic’s offer became the less painful alternative.

Now that sounded promising.

Victoria stepped into the hallway and checked the room numbers.

She hadn’t expected to be doing this after the divorce.

Then again, she hadn’t expected Conrad to get seriously ill almost immediately after finally ending a marriage they’d allowed to remain legally alive for years after everything else about it had died.

Life apparently had a strange sense of timing.

She wasn’t his wife anymore.

That fact still occasionally caught her by surprise, although not necessarily in a bad way.

Some mornings, Victoria woke up and remembered she was officially divorced, only to realize nothing about her morning had changed. She still lived in the same house. Her investments remained hers, and the staff still knew exactly how she liked her coffee.

She’d even kept the name.

Conrad had divorced her. He hadn’t repossessed Sebastian on his way out.

Perhaps the strangest part was that she no longer had to wonder whether her husband would ever come home.

Something unexpectedly peaceful came with finally knowing he wouldn’t.

Victoria slowed as she approached his room.

Peaceful didn’t mean she wanted him dead, of course.

She’d spent too many years with Conrad for his illness to mean nothing to her. Whatever had happened to their marriage, he remained Dominic’s father, and somewhere beneath all the resentment, a part of Victoria still remembered the man she’d once chosen.

Which was precisely why he needed to stop being ridiculous and accept the damned kidney.

She smoothed down her clothes before running a hand through her hair out of habit, the same little ritual Dominic had apparently inherited from her.

Then she shifted her weight and grimaced.

"Damn these high heels."

She really needed to start dressing appropriately for hospitals.

Perhaps tomorrow.

Victoria knocked once before entering.

"Conrad?"

A woman stood beside the hospital bed with her back partially turned toward the door.

Conrad appeared to be changing into a clean top, and the woman was helping him ease one arm through the sleeve without disturbing the line attached to the other.

Victoria slowed.

For one absurd moment, she assumed the woman was hospital staff.

Then she noticed the clothes.

Not a nurse.

"Do you need help?"

The woman turned.

Victoria stopped.

So did Helena.

Years had passed since they’d last properly stood in front of each other, but apparently some faces didn’t require an introduction.

"Helena."

"Victoria."

Conrad closed his eyes briefly.

There were probably easier ways for a seriously ill man to begin his afternoon.

Victoria’s gaze dropped to Helena’s hands, which were still carefully holding the fabric away from Conrad’s IV line. After a brief hesitation, Helena finished helping him settle the shirt properly before stepping away from the bed.

Victoria watched the entire thing.

"I see I missed the memo. Apparently, you don’t need my help for anything."

The bitterness escaped before she could stop it.

That irritated her almost as much as the situation itself.

She’d come prepared to argue with Conrad about accepting help from one of his sons.

Instead, Helena Laurent was standing beside his bed, helping him dress as though she’d been doing it for considerably longer than five minutes.

Except something about Conrad’s expression made Victoria pause.

Her attention returned to Helena before settling on Conrad again.

Something cold began creeping into her stomach.

Surely not.

Conrad cleared his throat.

"Victoria, Helena and I got married yesterday."

For several seconds, Victoria didn’t react.

She simply stared at him.

Then she slowly looked at Helena again.

"Yesterday?"

"Yes."

"You’re serious."

"I am."

Victoria stared at her former husband.

She’d spent years waiting for Conrad to come home long enough to finally end their marriage properly. When he eventually did, he didn’t fight her over the settlement or contest what she asked for regarding their marital property. Their lawyers hadn’t needed to wage a war on either side, and the whole thing had ended far more amicably than Victoria would’ve expected after such a long and complicated marriage.

At the time, she’d thought Conrad was simply as tired of dragging around their dead marriage as she was.

Apparently, he’d also had somewhere else he wanted to go.

Or, more accurately, someone.

Victoria looked at Helena again.

The woman wasn’t wearing a wedding dress, obviously. No bouquet was in sight, and Conrad sat in a hospital bed, looking considerably more like a patient than a newlywed.

Yet somehow that made the whole thing even more unbelievable.

Conrad Sebastian had gotten married.

Yesterday.

In a hospital.

To Helena Laurent.

Victoria wasn’t sure whether she felt sorry for herself or offended that nobody had at least given her enough warning to choose more comfortable shoes for the occasion.

Then another thought occurred to her.

She was free too.

Truly free.

If Conrad could remarry, Victoria could certainly begin another life of her own.

Perhaps she’d find another partner someday.

Or maybe she’d discover a new hobby.

Preferably one involving considerably less emotional maintenance than a husband.

"Well."

A short, disbelieving laugh escaped her.

"I’ll admit, Conrad. I didn’t see that coming."

Conrad opened his mouth.

Victoria raised one hand.

"No. Give me a moment."

Because whatever explanation her former husband was about to offer, she had a distinct feeling she’d need considerably more than a moment to decide whether she wanted to hear it.