Chapter 11
510words
"Is she the only one in your head?"
Jordyn had been there since the second they wheeled him into surgery.
Doctors said the infection was bad—if it got worse, waking up was up to him.
She hit the floor the moment she heard.
Hadn't slept. Not once. Just waited, praying he'd say her name first.
Why wasn't she ever enough?
It was bad enough their parents picked Hailey. But Nolan?
She met him first. Fell harder.
She needed him to see—she was the one who belonged by his side.
She was supposed to hate him.
He'd wrecked her whole family. Left her with nothing.
She should've hated him.
But once she knew what he'd gone through, the feelings twisted. Deeper. Darker. Unshakable.
She told herself the past didn't matter—just being with him was enough.
But Hailey never left his mind.
The year Hailey disappeared, Nolan said her name more times than Jordyn could count—always wasted.
Jordyn hated her. Wanted her gone.
And now that she finally was...
Nolan still didn't see her.
Nolan ignored Jordyn.
He yanked out his IV, forcing himself upright.
She rushed over, panicked.
"Nolan, stop! You're seriously hurt!"
She wasn't lying—but he didn't care.
Watching him struggle just to sit up, her face drained.
Then she let out a bitter laugh.
"Nolan... don't tell me you've fallen for Hailey."
He froze.
Then looked up slow—eyes dark, cold.
His hand clamped around her wrist. Tight enough to make her yelp.
"What right do you have to question me?"
Her tears broke loose. Red-eyed, she stared at him, desperate.
"I'm a Hart too. Why not take it out on me instead? Whatever Hailey gave you, I can give you too. I'm younger, prettier—you said yourself you liked my body the most. Let me take care of you, please..."
She leaned in, ignoring the pain shooting through her arm.
He shoved her back.
His voice cut sharp, almost cruel.
"You think you compare to her?"
His arm was still bandaged, and the shove split the wound wide open again. Blood soaked through.
He didn't even flinch. Just grabbed his coat and phone, then walked straight out.
Peter stepped off the elevator just in time to see him leave.
"Mr. Thorne! Your wound—it's bleeding through!"
Nolan didn't stop. Didn't even look at him. His lips were pale, voice shaky but solid.
"Where is she?"
Peter hesitated. He knew exactly who Nolan meant.
Still, he answered.
"They're still searching. Three rescue teams, plus the cops. But... the experts said, with this much ground covered and no signs—odds of survival are near zero."
Nolan's lashes trembled hard. He grabbed Peter by the collar and yanked him forward.
His eyes were wild, bloodshot—cornered animal wild.
"I! Don't! Believe! A damn word! Get new people! Now!"
Peter couldn't hold his gaze.
"We already called every top team in Northwick. Ms. Hart... there's nothing left of her..."
A loud crack echoed in Nolan's head.
His vision blurred. Boiling tears hit Peter's hand.
Peter froze. 'Mr. Thorne... is crying?'
