Chapter 2

Marcus Thorne became a constant presence. He visited daily, bringing flowers, books, updates on Apex. He was charismatic, powerful, and now, surprisingly gentle.

"Sarah, you're a fighter," he'd say, his voice smooth, reassuring. "Apex stands by its own."

He moved her to a private wing, ensured top specialists consulted. He spoke of experimental treatments, of hope.

But the specialists all confirmed the grim outlook. Wheelchair. Permanently.

One evening, as the sun set, casting long shadows across her sterile room, Marcus sat by her bed. He took her hand. His was warm, strong.

"Sarah," he began, his voice uncharacteristically soft, "I know this is... a difficult time."

She just stared at the wall. Difficult didn't begin to cover it.

"I've always admired you, Sarah. Your strength, your dedication. More than admired, if I'm honest."

She looked at him then, a flicker of confusion in her eyes.

"I've loved you for a long time," Marcus confessed, his gaze intense. "Silently. From afar."

Sarah felt a strange numbness. Love? After Kevin's swift, brutal departure, the word felt alien.

"I know the timing is... unorthodox," Marcus continued, his thumb stroking the back of her hand. "But I want to take care of you. I want you to have everything. The world sees you as injured. I see you as magnificent."

He paused, then said, "Marry me, Sarah. Be Mrs. Thorne. That title, that life, it's yours. It should only ever be yours."

Devastated by Kevin's abandonment, her career in ruins, her body shattered, Sarah felt a flicker of something. Not love, perhaps. But a lifeline. Marcus was offering stability, a future, when hers had just been blown apart. He seemed devoted, a stark contrast to Kevin' s desertion.

Touched by his apparent unwavering support, by the sheer audacity of his proposal in her darkest hour, she found herself nodding.

"Yes," she whispered. "Yes, Marcus."

He smiled, a triumphant, yet tender expression. He leaned in and kissed her forehead. "You won't regret this, Sarah. I'll make sure of it."

The wedding was small, private, held in the hospital chapel. Sarah was in a wheelchair, her legs hidden beneath the white satin of her gown. Marcus was every bit the doting husband.