Severed Ties

Wyatt stormed into the hospital room, his face twisted in a mask of rage. He strode directly toward the bed, eyes burning with accusation. "Hazel! You have never changed, have you?!"

Hazel glared at the man standing at the foot of her bed.

A chill settled in her chest. They had spent three years together. Part of her believed she owed their shared history a chance for an explanation. She thought she might listen to whatever excuses he had for leaving her surrounded by flames to carry her stepsister to safety. Now, seeing his accusatory expression, she realized asking for an explanation would only demean her. He had made his choice.

Wyatt shifted his gaze toward the tall figure standing beside the bed. His eyes widened before narrowing. The sheer presence of the other man intimidated him. He possessed sharp features that were undeniably handsome. Wyatt recognized him as one of the rescue workers from the hotel chaos last night, the firefighter who rushed in and carried Hazel out. Wyatt had not seen the man's face clearly through the smoke, only registering his towering stature. The sight of another man tending to his fiancée ignited a spark of bruised ego within him.

"Let's break up, Wyatt."

Hazel delivered the words with dead calm.

Wyatt whipped his head back to her. Shock rippled across his features, followed quickly by a sneer. He leveled a trembling finger at the silent man standing nearby. "Do you even know who he is, Hazel Winslow? He is just a firefighter! You are dumping me for the likes of him?!"

Clayton remained still. His dark eyes rested on Wyatt for a second. A flicker of cold contempt passed through his gaze. Yet, he made no move toward the door. He stood his ground in the room.

"You know very well why we are breaking up! Everything was clear when you chose to save Gwen last night, so do not treat me like an idiot." Hazel kept her tone icy.

Wyatt opened his mouth, then snapped it shut. The indignant fury melted off his face, replaced by a stiff hesitation. He stared at the floor tiles, scrambling to salvage his pride. When he looked back up, he forced a look of regret into his eyes, adopting the mask of a victim. "Maybe we never should have been together. You are so strong and independent, Hazel. You make me feel inconsequential. I feel stressed when I am with you. You never needed me."

Hazel let out a dry laugh, ignoring the pain pulsing through her heart.

She looked at the man who had promised her everything. Her mind flashed back to their first meeting. She remembered the biting cold of the cobblestone streets overseas, her fingers numb against her guitar strings. Wyatt had stood out against the snowy backdrop, dropping an unnecessary sum of money into her open case. He had returned day after day, bridging the gap between strangers and lovers. She had offered him the ugliest parts of her troubled past, yet he assured her they would build a flawless future together.

When Mercer Corp faced a crisis, Wyatt was called back home after graduation. Hazel packed up her rising career and followed him. They spent endless nights working side by side. She painted on smiles for countless social events, charming willing investors and turning the sinking company around. They saved Mercer Corp together. Back then, he vowed never to leave her side.

Now, he dared to reframe her resilience as a flaw. Her independence was supposedly the reason he abandoned her to burn to death.

Wyatt seized upon the silence. A wave of relief washed over him as he realized he was off the hook. He adjusted his collar. "Take care. You can come to me if you are ever in need, since we are still friends."

"Save your pity and goodwill! I am no loser who needs your alms, nor would I ever trust a man who would abandon me when it matters! Remember this, Wyatt Mercer. I was the one who dumped you. I earnestly wish you would live happily with Gwen for the rest of your life and not regret ever choosing her." Hazel gripped the bedsheets.

Wyatt flushed red. Her scolding hit every nerve. It was his fault for leaving her in the fire, and her logic left him with no high ground to stand on. Seeing she was beyond reason and impossible to manipulate, he decided to retreat. "You should rest."

He turned toward the door, taking two steps before stopping to glare at Clayton. The tall man met his gaze with indifference.

"I have seen too many men like him who have the looks but are penniless. They are all losers, oily bastards who trick women out of money and pleasure. Do not fall for his act," Wyatt snarled.

"Do I look like a loose woman, Wyatt Mercer?" Hazel snapped back immediately.

Clayton casually raised a hand and straightened his hair. The gesture screamed dominance. It was a silent dismissal that made his stance obvious.

"If you want to end up in the dumps, suit yourself." Wyatt turned on his heel and stormed out of the ward, the loud slam of the door leaving the room in a heavy silence.

Hazel released a breath. She leaned back against the stark white pillows, the adrenaline leaving her system. "Thank you for helping me back to my bed and dealing with Wyatt. But may I ask you to leave now, Mr. Caldwell?"

"Sure. Please get some rest, Ms. Winslow." Clayton gave a nod.

He turned to step away. Before stepping out, he paused by the bedside table. He pulled a stack of tissues and placed them by her hand. "If a man feels stressed being with you, it is he who is lacking. It is not your fault."

He did not wait for a response. The door clicked shut behind him. Hazel stared at the empty space where he had stood. She did a double take, realizing Clayton Caldwell was fundamentally different from any man she had ever met.

Outside the ward, the fluorescent lights buzzed overhead. Clayton shoved his hands into his pockets. His pace slowed down as he walked down the corridor. He pulled out his phone and dialed a number. "Hobson."

"Yes, Mr. Caldwell?" The response came immediately.

"From now on, always prepare another portion of food for the patient staying in the ward next to Eddie," Clayton instructed.

"Yes, Mr. Caldwell," Hobson replied without skipping a beat.

Clayton tapped the screen to end the call, but before he could put the phone away, it started vibrating again. He glanced at the caller ID. "Ned."

"I heard there was a fire in your hotel the second you returned to the country!" Ned Harper's voice boomed through the speaker.

"Yeah," Clayton replied.

"The damage must be in the eight figures, right? How are you feeling?" Ned continued.

"It is good that the fire happened exactly when it did," Clayton remarked.

Silence stretched on the other end of the line. "Hey, you are not losing it, are you? Why don't you hang out with us boys for a bit? Let's get some drinks to douse your sorrows," Ned suggested.

"Nope. But I do not mind joining if you are celebrating for me instead. That said, I am not actually free," Clayton replied.

Ned was left dumbfounded. It had been a short while since they met, but Clayton had suddenly brushed up on his humor. Ned needed a moment to come to his senses. "Anyway, isn't Eddie getting discharged today?"

Clayton had only returned because of Edward's appendicitis, and the party to celebrate his return had to be postponed.

"Not yet. I am having him stay for another half a month," Clayton answered.

"Wait, is Eddie alright?" Ned asked nervously.

"Yeah. We are just staying for fun," Clayton said flatly.

Ned stared at his phone in disbelief. Was the hospital some luxury hotel to Clayton?

"Talk to you later," Clayton said.

"Wait, Clay! Keep the line open. I could bring a psychiatrist to you, to take a look..." Ned yelled into the receiver.

"Do that for yourself!" Clayton snapped, cutting the call dead.

He slipped the phone back into his trousers. He stood perfectly still in the empty corridor, turning his head to cast one look at the neighboring ward. He pursed his lips before pushing open the heavy door to his son's hospital room and stepping inside.