A Vow of Deception, A Vow of Revenge novel Chapter 44

Elvis didn't say a word. He just listened quietly.

"My mom got really sick after that," Winona's voice trembled, thick with emotion. "We saw every specialist we could find, but nothing helped—she still passed away." Her voice caught, and she blinked quickly, trying to hold back tears. "When she was dying, she held my hand and told me she didn't care if I ever became famous. All she wanted was for me to promise I'd never give up dancing."

Her eyes were rimmed red. "I promised her. I really did. No matter what, I wouldn't stop dancing. But now…" Her voice cracked, and she stared down at her trembling hands. "Now I can't dance at all. If Mom knew, she'd be so disappointed in me, wouldn't she?"

Elvis watched her, seeing the pain etched across her face. His Adam's apple bobbed as he finally broke the silence.

He reached out, slowly, deliberately, and rested his hand gently over hers—a touch both restrained and comforting.

"Don't say that," he said, his voice low and steady, carrying a warmth that seemed to ease the ache in her chest. "Your mother wouldn't be disappointed. She wanted you to keep dancing because she hoped you'd chase after what you love. What's happened to you—it's not your fault."

Winona looked up at him, her eyes red and brimming with tears.

Elvis leaned forward just a little, meeting her gaze. "You must have been very close to your mom. Right now, you're just lost in your pain, so it's hard to see things clearly."

Of course. Her mother had been so gentle, so loving…

A little of the tension inside Winona loosened, but her eyes only grew wetter. Tears began to fall, hot and silent.

She missed her mom so much.

"And besides," Elvis went on softly, "medicine's always moving forward. There's still hope your leg might recover one day."

He pulled a couple of tissues from the box. At first, he looked like he was about to wipe her tears himself, but then hesitated, his eyes dimming a fraction. Instead, he placed the tissues in her hand.

Winona dabbed at her eyes and managed a faint smile. "Thank you, Mr. Rogers. Talking to you… I actually feel a little better."

As for what Elvis had just said about her recovery, she assumed he was only trying to comfort her. She didn't let herself believe it.

It wasn't as if she hadn't tried. Every doctor she'd seen had told her the same thing—she would never dance again.

Elvis said nothing more, just naturally reached for the tissues she'd used and tossed them in the trash.

Winona's brow furrowed for a moment.

Not a single word more for Celia. She wasn't going to waste her time.

Elvis, watching her expression, could already guess who had called. Celia's voice had carried through the room, sharp enough that he'd caught the gist.

"Get some rest," he said, rising to his feet. "I'll be going now."

"Take care, Mr. Rogers."

Winona started to get up to see him out, but Elvis waved her off.

Once he'd gone, she turned her head and looked at the bouquet of lilies he'd brought.

They really were beautiful.

…

At the elevator, Elvis saw a nurse blocking two women from heading toward Winona's room.