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Chapter_170
Elaine’s fingers trembled as she checked Ludwik’s pulse once again, the frantic, erratic rhythm under her touch sending waves of panic through her. His body shook violently, the feverish heat radiating off of him like an inferno. His breaths came in jagged gasps, as though he were drowning in air. Elaine’s heart pounded in her chest, her mind spinning, but there was one thing she was sure of—she had no idea how to save him this time.
The guilt gnawed at her. She had once thought that by pretending to be the one who cared, by positioning herself as the woman who had always been there for him, she could manipulate the situation to her favor. But now, in this moment, standing over him, she realized how out of her depth she truly was.
How had Whitney done it? she wondered desperately. How had she been the one to calm him four years ago?
Elaine forced herself to maintain her composure, to mask the panic beneath a veneer of calm. Her face remained neutral, and with a trembling hand, she stroked Ludwik’s fevered forehead, trying to convince herself that she was still in control. She had to appear like the caring, devoted woman he needed. She couldn’t let Whitney’s words, or the mounting anxiety she felt inside, shatter her fragile facade.
“Don’t worry, Ludwik,” she murmured in a soothing voice, though the quiver in her hand betrayed her. “I’ll take care of you. I’ll make sure you get through this.”
Ludwik’s red-rimmed eyes opened slowly, flickering with a mix of recognition and confusion. His gaze locked onto hers, desperate and distant, as if struggling to stay tethered to reality. His voice was a hoarse whisper, his throat tight with the effort to speak.
“Elaine,” he croaked, his voice breaking. “I need you… to help me. Please. You’re the only one who can fix this.”
Elaine’s breath caught, a wave of triumph surging through her, though it felt hollow. It was everything she had wanted—his trust, his dependence on her. Yet, in that moment, standing over him, the weight of his reliance on her felt unbearable. She wasn’t sure if it was her own guilt or the intensity of his desperation that made her feel so small.
“You can trust me, Ludwik,” she whispered, her words soft, almost hypnotic. “I’ll help you. Just like I did before.”
But as she held his hand, a gnawing unease gripped her. Something didn’t feel right. In the quiet of the room, with only the low hum of machines keeping vigil over his condition, Elaine realized that her place in his life—her manipulation of him, his dependence on her—was fragile. This wasn’t the same as before. She wasn’t the one who had healed him last time. She was the one holding him back.
Ludwik’s condition seemed to deteriorate before her eyes. His body trembled violently, and his breaths grew more desperate, more erratic. The sight of him slipping further away from her grip made Elaine feel more like an imposter. His eyes, wide with fear, met hers, and the terror in them sent a chill down her spine. He wasn’t just struggling to breathe—he was struggling to hold onto something, to anyone, but she wasn’t sure he could find it in her.
She reached for a syringe of sedatives, her hands shaking uncontrollably. The rush of panic made her movements frantic. This had to work. It had to.
But as her fingers fumbled with the needle, she heard it—a soft, almost imperceptible sound, a faint cry of distress from Ludwik.
“Elaine… help me…”
The words, whispered with such pleading desperation, froze her in place. His need for her was palpable, clinging to her like a lifeline, but something darker lingered beneath his gaze. It wasn’t just gratitude or trust. It was a desperation so raw, it made her blood run cold.
Elaine stood frozen for a moment, the weight of the situation bearing down on her. She wasn’t sure if she could help him this time—not like last time. His spiraling state, his increasing dependence on her, felt like a trap she wasn’t sure she could escape.
She injected the sedative quickly, though her hands still trembled with uncertainty. Would this time be different? Could she truly save him, or was she merely prolonging the inevitable, trapping him in a web of need he might never escape?
The door creaked open, breaking her spiraling thoughts. Parker stood in the doorway, his face etched with concern, his eyes immediately falling on Ludwik.
“How is he?” Parker asked softly, his voice carrying the weight of his worry.
Elaine didn’t answer right away. She glanced up at him, forcing a tight smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “He’s stabilizing, I think. It’s just like last time—he’ll sleep through it. He needs rest.”
Parker didn’t seem convinced. He studied Ludwik’s condition with a deep, unsettling frown. “But is it really just like last time? You said it’s worse than before. Is he going to be okay?”
Elaine swallowed hard, her stomach twisting. “He will be, Parker. He just needs time. He needs me.”
Parker’s eyes lingered on her, filled with quiet concern, but he said nothing. Instead, he turned back to Ludwik, his gaze unwavering as he watched the rise and fall of his chest slow.
In the silence that followed, Elaine’s thoughts grew darker, spiraling into fear. What if this time Ludwik couldn’t bounce back? What if the man she had so carefully manipulated—so carefully twisted into needing her—was slipping beyond her reach?
The question gnawed at her, unanswered, as Ludwik’s labored breathing filled the room, the only sound in the otherwise still air.
Could she keep him from falling apart? Or had she already pushed him too far?
