The Billionaire's Dangerous Redemption (by Claire Winters) novel Chapter 139

139 A Sickbed Ultimatum

Hazel’s POV

By morning, my patience had completely evaporated. I stared at the ceiling of my bedroom, anger burning through my veins. Four weeks. Alistair thought he could keep me dangling for another month. Not happening.

I reached for my phone and dialed Vera.

“Tell me you have a plan to murder him and make it look like natural causes,” she answered without preamble.

I sat up, swinging my legs over the edge of the bed. “Better. I’m going to confront him at the hospital.”

“Oh, I like that.” Her voice perked up. “Nothing says ‘I’m done with your games’ like ambushing a man in his hospital gown.”

“Exactly.” I moved toward my closet. “I need you on standby. If this goes south, I might need legal backup.”

“Already texting Julian,” Vera replied, referring to her cousin who happened to be one of the city’s most formidable attorneys. “What’s the plan?”

I pulled out a sleek black pantsuit-my armor for the day. “I’m bringing the divorce papers. If he’s too sick for court, he can sign them from his hospital bed.”

“Ice cold,” Vera said with admiration. “Need me to come with?”

“Not yet. But stay by your phone.”

After hanging up, I sent quick messages to Sebastian and Cora, letting them know what I was doing. Neither tried to talk me out of it, which I appreciated. Sebastian simply texted back: *I’ll be ready if you need me.*

Dressed in my battle outfit with my hair pulled into a severe bun, I grabbed my laptop bag with the divorce papers tucked inside and headed out.

Memorial General Hospital was where Alistair had spent countless days during his worst health crises. It wasn’t hard to guess which floor he’d be on-the VIP wing where the Everetts practically had a permanent suite.

The elevator doors opened onto the quiet, plush hallway of the eighth floor. I’d spent too many hours of my life here, holding Alistair’s hand, donating blood, and praying he would recover. Today, I was here for an entirely different reason.

I spotted Gloria immediately. Alistair’s sister stood by the nurses’ station, her platinum blonde hair falling in perfect waves around her shoulders. When she saw me, her expression hardened.

“What are you doing here?” she hissed, stepping into my path.

I kept my face neutral. “I’m here to see my husband.”

“He’s sick, Hazel.” Gloria’s eyes narrowed. “Seriously sick. This isn’t the time for your

drama.”

“Funny how he always gets ‘seriously sick’ whenever it’s time to face consequences,” I replied, trying to step around her.

She blocked me again. “Do you even hear yourself? Do you have any compassion left?”

“Gloria, please.” Liana Langdon’s voice cut through our standoff. Alistair’s mother approached us, looking exhausted and worried. “This isn’t helping Alistair.”

Unlike Gloria’s open hostility, Liana’s face showed a mixture of disappointment and desperation. She’d always been polite to me, if distant-their family’s version of welcoming.

“Mrs. Langdon,” I acknowledged her with a small nod.

“Hazel.” She sighed deeply. “I wish you’d called first.”

“Would that have changed anything?” I asked.

She didn’t answer directly. “Alistair’s condition is serious. His immune system is attacking his organs again. The doctors are concerned.”

The same diagnosis. The same crisis. The same manipulation.

“Is that why the divorce hearing was conveniently postponed?” I kept my voice even.

Gloria made a disgusted sound. “See? This is exactly what I mean. Her husband is fighting for his life, and all she cares about is her precious divorce.”

“That’s not fair,” Liana chided her daughter, then turned back to me. “Hazel, I know

things are difficult between you and Alistair, but he genuinely needs treatment right

now.”

I looked her directly in the eyes. “Let me guess. He needs my blood again.”

The slight flinch in her expression told me everything.

“That’s why you’re being civil,” I continued. “That’s why you’re not having security escort me out. You need my rare blood type for his treatment.”

Liana looked pained. “You’ve always been compatible with-”

“Stop.” I held up my hand. “Just stop pretending this is about anything but using me as a human blood bag for your son. Again.”

Gloria stepped closer, voice low and venomous. “Do you know how cruel you sound right now? He could die without-”

“Gloria, enough.” A weak voice called from down the hall.

We all turned to see a nurse exiting a room, leaving the door ajar. Alistair’s voice had come from inside.

“Let her in,” he called again, followed by a painful-sounding cough.

Liana touched my arm lightly. “Please, just talk to him. That’s all I ask.”

Without waiting for Gloria’s further protests, I walked past both women and into Alistair’s hospital room, closing the door behind me.

The sight that greeted me was familiar yet still shocking. Alistair lay propped against pillows, his once-handsome face gaunt and pale. IV lines snaked from his arms, and monitors beeped steadily beside him. His blue eyes, normally bright and charming, looked dull with pain and medication.

“Hazel,” he whispered, attempting a smile that came out as a grimace. “You came.”

I remained standing just inside the door, maintaining my distance. “Not for the reason you think.”

He gestured weakly to a chair beside the bed. “Please, sit.”

“I’d rather stand.” I crossed my arms. “This won’t take long.”

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His face fell slightly. “Always straight to the point now.”

“Did you expect me to rush to your bedside with tears in my eyes?” I asked. “To hold your hand and promise everything would be okay?”

“Would that be so terrible?” His voice was barely audible. “After six years together?”

“Those six years ended when you married my stepsister.” My tone was ice cold. “When you took the wedding dress I made with my own hands and put it on her.”

He closed his eyes briefly. “I’ve apologized for that.”

“Apologized?” I laughed bitterly. “As if sorry could erase what you did.”

Alistair’s body suddenly convulsed with coughing. He reached for a tissue, and I saw flecks of blood when he pulled it away from his mouth. Despite myself, a sliver of concern pierced my armor.

“The doctors say it’s gotten worse,” he said when he could speak again. “My body’s essentially attacking itself. The medication isn’t working like before.”

I refused to be swayed by his condition. “And that’s why you postponed the hearing. Because you need my blood for treatment.”

He had the decency to look ashamed. “It wasn’t my idea. My mother—”

“Save it.” I unzipped my laptop bag and pulled out a folder. “If you’re too sick for court, we can settle this right now.”

His eyes widened slightly. “What do you mean?”

I approached the bed and placed the folder on his lap. “Divorce papers. All the terms we agreed on before you suddenly became too ill to appear in court.”

“Hazel, please,” he whispered. “I’m not thinking clearly right now. The medication—”

“You were thinking clearly enough to call your lawyer and get the hearing postponed,” I countered. “You were thinking clearly enough to have your mother try to manipulate

me into a blood donation.”

He reached for my hand, but I pulled back. “It wasn’t like that.”

“Then what was it like, Alistair?” I demanded. “Explain to me how this isn’t just another attempt to control me, to keep me tethered to you.”

JUD

139 A Sickbed Ultimatum

“Is that what you think? That I’m faking this?” Anger flickered across his pale face. “Look at me, Hazel. Really look.”

I did. I saw the man I had once loved beyond reason now wasted and frail. The man I had nursed through countless health crises. The man who had betrayed me in the cruelest possible way.

“I see you perfectly clearly,” I said quietly. “I see someone who uses his illness as a weapon when it’s convenient.”

His expression hardened. “You’ve changed. The Hazel I knew would never be this

heartless.”

“The Hazel you knew died the day you married my stepsister.” I pulled a pen from my bag and placed it next to the papers. “Sign the divorce agreement, Alistair. Now.”

He stared at the papers, then at me. “And if I don’t?”

“Then I walk out that door, and you’ll never see me again.” I held his gaze steadily. “No more blood donations. No more postponements. My lawyer will pursue this aggressively, and I’ll make sure everyone knows exactly why our marriage ended.”

His face paled even further. “You wouldn’t.”

“Try me.” My voice was steel. “I’m done being your backup plan. I’m done being used by you and your family.”

The monitors beside his bed began beeping more rapidly as his heart rate increased.

“You know I could die without your blood,” he said, his voice breaking. “Is that what you want? For me to die?”

For a moment, I wavered. Six years of love and care couldn’t be erased completely. But then I remembered the look on his face when he told me he was marrying Ivy. The coldness when he said my stepsister needed him more than I did.

“What I want is freedom,” I replied firmly. “What happens to you after that is no longer

my concern.”

His eyes filled with tears. “How can you say that? After everything we’ve been through?”

I leaned closer, my voice dropping to a whisper. “The same way you could tell me you

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were marrying my stepsister three days before our wedding.”

With trembling fingers, Alistair picked up the pen. He looked at the papers, then back at me with pleading eyes.

“If I sign this,” he said softly, “will you at least consider donating blood one last time? Not for me. For my mother. It would destroy her to lose me.”

The same mother who had watched silently as Ivy paraded around in my wedding dress. The same mother who had never once stood up for me when Gloria belittled me at family gatherings.

I placed my hand over his, steadying the pen. “Sign the papers, Alistair.”

140 The Reluctant Signature and a Saint’s Rebuke

140 The Reluctant Signature and a Saint’s Rebuke

Hazel’s POV @

The room fell into an eerie silence. Alistair’s eyes flashed with something-resignation, maybe anger-before he dropped his gaze to the divorce papers in his lap. My hand still rested over his, steadying the pen between his trembling fingers.

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