Five Years Up I Reveal I'm The Richest He Kneels And Begs novel Chapter 21

In midair, Adrian shielded Sienna with his body, taking the full force of the explosion and the sharp rain of debris across his back.

They hit the ground hard. Adrian spat a mouthful of blood, the world spinning into darkness.

Just before he lost consciousness, he thought he felt her move faintly in his arms–her lashes fluttering, her blurred gaze landing on his blood–streaked face, filled with pain and desperate

love.

The crash site was chaos.

Emergency crews rushed them to the nearest top–tier hospital. The Sloane family mobilized every connection they had; the best trauma specialists in the country assembled within hours.

Because Sienna had been seated in the heavily reinforced rear compartment and protected by Adrian’s body, her injuries, though serious, were mostly from the impact and glass cuts. After emergency surgery, her condition stabilized. She was safe but weak, requiring long rest.

Adrian, however, was in critical condition. The explosion had shredded his internal organs and

spine; his back was burned and torn beyond recognition. He was rushed directly into intensive

care.

When Mr. and Mrs. Prescott arrived and saw their son covered in tubes and monitors, their composure collapsed. Tears streamed down their faces as panic swallowed them whole.

Prescott Enterprises was already collapsing–and now, the man who’d been the backbone of everything was hovering between life and death. Desperation left them with only one person to

cling to.

Sienna Sloane.

Only the Sloane family had the power to summon the world’s leading specialists, to open doors

money alone could not.

So the Prescotts dropped every ounce of pride. They knelt outside Sienna’s hospital room,

pleading through the door, begging her to save their son.

Inside, Sienna had just woken from anesthesia. Her body was weak, her face pale. She listened to

their cries from the hallway, expression unreadable, eyes drifting toward the window.

After a long silence, she spoke softly to her assistant. “Contact Dr. Smith’s team. Have them take

over Adrian Prescott’s treatment. The expenses come from the Sloane accounts.”

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“Yes, Miss Sloane.”

It was a decision made out of medical efficiency—and human decency. Nothing more.

The Prescotts wept with gratitude, bowing again and again.

The ICU was on the same floor as her suite, yet Sienna never once went to see him. She focused on her recovery, quietly handling necessary business through her laptop.

Occasionally, her assistant brought updates.

“Miss Sloane, Mr. Prescott is still in a coma. His vitals are stable, but the danger isn’t over.”

“Miss Sloane, Dr. Smith said the surgery went well, but the spinal injury is severe. Recovery will be long–and he may never fully regain mobility.”

The assistant hesitated before adding, “The nurses say that even in his coma, he keeps whispering your name… saying ‘I’m sorry,‘ ‘Don’t leave,‘ and ‘I love you.‘

)))

Sienna’s fingers paused over the papers she was reading. Her lashes lowered, hiding whatever emotion flickered behind her eyes.

A moment later, she resumed turning the pages. Her voice was calm and detached. “Make sure he

gets the best care. Use the highest–grade medication and equipment. The Sloanes can afford it.”

The assistant nodded respectfully and said no more.

Days passed.

Under the relentless efforts of the medical team, Adrian finally pulled through. His vitals

stabilized, and one quiet afternoon, his eyelashes fluttered open.

The sterile white ceiling came into focus. The steady drip of the IV filled the silence.

A nurse noticed the movement and hurried to his side. “Mr. Prescott? Can you hear me? How do you feel?”

His lips cracked as he tried to speak. The words came out hoarse and broken, but clear enough to

understand.

“She… is she… all right?”

The nurse froze for a second before realizing who he meant. “Don’t worry, Miss Sloane’s injuries

were mild. She’s recovering well.”

At that, the tightness in his chest released. A shuddered breath escaped him as exhaustion

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dragged him back down.

He stared blankly at the ceiling, silent, hollow.

The truth had come too late. Regret had arrived when everything else was gone.

He had survived–but the life that awaited him, stripped of health and of her warmth, would be a long, cold punishment.