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He is dead .
She has waited years for that message. Even so, she doesn’t return to Bangkok. Just because Kan is dead, that doesn’t mean she is safe. Korn would probably kill her on sight for the deception.
She already had to die once to escape that viper’s nest. Why would she go back?
A photo changes everything. It opens old wounds, has her wiping away tears she isn’t worthy of shedding. It forces her into her car, driving through the night at barely legal speeds.
With help she is able to sneak into the hospital and acquire a nurse"s uniform. She’s been sent a room number and a safe time to visit. A mask gives her anonymity, and no one would ever suspect she would be here. She’s just another nurse on duty to them.
From the doorway, she stares. Her heart shatters for the second time.
When she finally steps closer to the bed and to the man lying in it, she almost collapses to her knees. With a trembling hand, she reaches out and brushes back a stray lock of hair from a pallid face.
She ran, faked her death, to protect herself. She left her sons behind, praying that they would be okay, that they would be safer without her.
As she reads his chart and feels each bullet in her own chest, she realises how naive she was. Kan was always ambitious; of course he would put his own son in harm’s way to achieve his goal.
She can only hope that Macau has been kept safe. She trusts Vegas will have looked after him, the way he promised her he always would.
Her musings are interrupted when a soft-faced man comes in. He eyes her with caution. She doesn’t know who he is to the family, or why he’s here, but she’s in no place to ask questions. Instead, she bows her head and carries on pretending to work.
He moves past her. He touches the back of his hand to Vegas’ cheek and sighs heavily, wearily, as he sits on the bed.
She understands then. Whoever this man is, he is here for her son and that gives her comfort.
“...how is he?” the man asks.
She smiles, even though he can’t see it behind her mask. His words thaw the icy feeling in her heart. “He’ll be fine,” she promises. “Just stay with him. You’re doing a wonderful job.”
He takes a shaky breath and reaches for Vegas’ hand. He rubs a thumb across the back. “Thank you,” he says.
“No. Thank you,” she whispers under her breath. Her guilt at leaving Vegas without a proper goodbye is assuaged by the presence of this gentle man. Vegas isn’t alone anymore; whoever his companion is, he clearly cares about her son.
Armed with his knowledge, she leaves, giving Vegas one last heartbreaking look. The first time she walked away was hard, this time feels like agony. She knows there won’t be a third.