The door to the room opened slowly, and Keiran looked up, meeting a man with bright red hair, streaked with gray, and green eyes that reflected a mixture of concern and relief. It was Rowan, his father... or rather, the father of the original Keiran. Keiran didn't even know how he should refer to them now.
"Keiran, son, you don't know the scare you gave me," said Rowan, crossing the room with hurried steps. He enveloped him in a hug, feeling the fragility of his thin body through the thin hospital clothes. "You're so thin…" he murmured in a broken voice.
When he pulled away, his hands rested on Keiran's shoulders, assessing him with his gaze. The bones protruded slightly under the pale skin, and Rowan's face filled with sadness.
"I'm so sorry… for not being there when you fell. The company has been having financial problems, and I was looking for new investors. I want to make sure you never have a distressing future, son."
Keiran felt an unexpected warmth in his chest. In his previous life, all he saw in his father's eyes was contempt and disappointment. However, Rowan's eyes were full of genuine concern, love, and deep pain at seeing him in that state.
"It's okay, Dad," Keiran managed to say, his voice trembling and filled with a mixture of feelings he didn't know how to process.
Rowan let out a sob, hugging him tighter, but without hurting him.
"You can talk again…" he said through tears. "How is it possible? I'm so happy!" He pulled back just enough to look him in the eyes, his face lit up by a genuine smile.
Keiran didn't know how to respond. He wanted to deceive them, but Rowan's affection made lying to him feel like a dagger slowly piercing his chest.
"I… I don't know," he stammered, looking down. He couldn't speak normally overnight without raising suspicion. After all, he wasn't really his son, and he couldn't tell them that the real Keiran was possibly dead. "Maybe… the blow," he muttered with difficulty.
Rowan's excitement was so evident that Keiran could almost feel it.
"Margaret and Shelby will be so happy to hear this," said Rowan, standing up quickly.
Keiran took his hand before he could leave.
"No, Dad…" he said, struggling to keep his tone weak and trembling. "I want them to… to hear me when… when I don't stutter."
Rowan nodded, although his face showed a hint of disappointment.
"Gabriel shouldn't… shouldn't know either," Keiran added, measuring each word.
"I understand, son," replied Rowan, returning to his side and taking his hands in his. He caressed them tenderly, as if fearing that their fragile structure might break under a sudden movement. "If that's what you want, then it will be our little secret."
"Thank you, Dad."
Rowan couldn't hold back any longer and hugged him again, breaking into a silent cry.
"It's been ten years since I heard your voice calling me that… I've missed it so much."
Keiran let himself be carried away by the warm paternal embrace. For those brief seconds, everything else seemed to fade away. Rowan was also a victim of Margaret and Shelby's manipulations, who did not hesitate to squeeze his money with both hands. Keiran knew that he not only had to save himself, but also protect that man from a premature and suspicious death, like the one that awaited him according to the book.
He would not make the mistakes of his past life again. He would not allow his father to die, nor would he allow him to be used and discarded like a worthless object.
When he read the book, he felt immense rage towards the author. Keiran was not the "villain" they described. He was just someone desperate for love, someone who had believed in the promises of a man who had betrayed him in the worst possible way.
"Only I can love you, Keiran. You are a mute and infertile omega. No alpha would want someone like you. Only I can love you."
Those words, so cold and calculated, continued to resonate in his mind. Gabriel had never loved him, he didn't even see him as a human being. The Keiran of the book had been manipulated, betrayed, and finally discarded by everyone he ever thought cared about him.
Keiran closed his eyes, letting the emotions wash over him as he clung to Rowan's embrace.
"I will save you, Dad. No matter what it costs, I will not let them hurt you."
The door opened again, and this time it was Gabriel who entered the room. Father and son quickly separated from the affectionate embrace.
"Gabriel, son, come here," said Rowan, gesturing for him to come closer. When he was next to them, Rowan took Keiran's hand and placed it in Gabriel's. "Thank you for taking care of my son and bringing him to the hospital."
"He is my husband, sir. I would do anything for him," replied Gabriel with a kind smile that, for Keiran, was as fake as a copper coin.
Keiran tried not to look away with disdain as Gabriel continued:
"When I got home and found him lying on the floor, covered in blood, I felt a terrible fear of losing him. I picked him up and brought him to the hospital as quickly as I could." As he spoke, he caressed Keiran's hand with feigned tenderness, as if his words were full of genuine affection.
Keiran suppressed the urge to pull his hand away and send him to hell. He just wanted all this to end.
"Thank you very much, Gabriel. Really, I don't know how we can thank you enough," said Rowan with an emotional voice. "By the way, when can we take him home?"
"I just signed the discharge papers," replied Gabriel calmly. "The doctor will be here shortly to give us some instructions. I suppose it won't be anything serious."
He had barely finished speaking when the door of the room opened again. A middle-aged man, dressed in a white coat and wearing a professional but friendly expression, entered with the file in his hand.
"Hello, Keiran, Mr. Sterling, Mr. Lockhart," the doctor greeted politely before focusing on his notes. "Well, the suture on the head will have to remain between ten and fourteen days due to the depth of the wound. I would like you to come back in five days to make sure there are no signs of infection."
"What a relief. Thank you very much, doctor," said Rowan with evident relief.
However, the doctor's face turned slightly more serious as he continued:
"There is something else we must address. During the studies we performed, we detected that Keiran has iron deficiency anemia."
Rowan paled, alarmed.
"Is that serious?" he asked, his voice tinged with concern.
"It can be if it is not treated in time," replied the doctor seriously. "Iron deficiency anemia is caused by low levels of iron, which affects multiple functions of the body. In this case, it is crucial to start treatment as soon as possible."
He paused before continuing, explaining calmly:
"Iron is essential for the production of collagen, a fundamental protein for wound healing. Without enough iron, collagen production decreases, delaying recovery. In addition, anemia affects the function of neutrophils, a type of white blood cell responsible for fighting infections. With low iron levels, the risk of infection increases, especially in severe wounds such as the one on his head."
Rowan pursed his lips, his determination evident.
"Do whatever is necessary, doctor. I don't want his health to get worse. Please start the treatment immediately. Money is no problem."
The doctor nodded, satisfied with the answer.
"Perfect. I will put you in touch with a hematologist as soon as possible. She will take care of handling your case and guiding the treatment."
After making some additional notes in the file, he approached Keiran, carefully removing the serum from his arm, which was noticeably bruised, and placing a gauze to cover the area.
"That would be all. Keiran can now leave the hospital. I hope you get well soon. With permission."
The doctor withdrew, leaving Keiran with a mixture of relief and annoyance.
"This couldn't get any worse," he thought as he watched Gabriel approach again, with that protective air that he knew how to fake so well.
"Calm down, Keiran. You're going to be better. I'll make sure of it," said Gabriel, with an expression of concern that, to anyone but Keiran, would have seemed genuine.
Keiran nodded, forcing a smile. Inside, his mind was buzzing with one idea: to find a way to divorce him as soon as possible.
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