Under the Veil I Rule (Amara) novel Chapter 361

He patted Liliana’s shoulder, his voice gentle. “Don’t be upset.”

Comforting others was never his strong suit, so even these simple words came with some effort.

Wiping away her tears, Liliana looked up at him and asked, “Finn, will you stay with me? I know you don’t want to get married—that’s fine, we don’t have to. I’m not asking you to be my boyfriend or to promise me anything. I just… I just want you by my side. However you want, in whatever way you can.”

She knew she was being humble, maybe even a little desperate, and Finnian could sense it too. His expression darkened.

He stood and walked over to the window, staring out into the pitch-black night. Silence stretched between them. After what felt like forever, he returned to her bedside and said quietly, “Get some rest tonight. We can talk about this another time.”

He hadn’t agreed, but unlike before, he didn’t refuse her outright. It was progress, at least.

Liliana nodded, forcing a brave smile. “Okay. I’ll try to sleep. Don’t worry about me, Finn. Go take care of your things.”

Finnian left the hospital. Instead of heading home, he called Dorian out for a drink.

They sat side by side at the bar, Finnian knocking back one strong drink after another. Finally, Dorian covered his glass. “Cut it out, man. Another round and you’ll be swimming in liquor.”

Finnian had already told Dorian what happened with Liliana—the whole story, right down to her desperate attempt the night before. Dorian sighed. “You’ve got to figure out what you want to do. What are you really thinking?”

Finnian didn’t answer right away. His mind wandered back to the past.

The Everly Group was a real estate company, and back when he’d just taken over as CEO, he’d gone to inspect a construction site. Out of nowhere, something heavy came crashing down from above, right on course to hit him. Liliana had thrown herself in the way, saving his life.

“Finn, look at this. Liliana’s been diagnosed with a mental illness. What are we supposed to do?”

“Mom, stop it! Don’t say that,” Liliana shot back, her face pale. “I’m not crazy. I just have a bit of depression, that’s all. Depression isn’t the same as being mentally ill, you know that. She’s just exaggerating, Finn, please don’t worry.”

Finnian looked down at the paper—a mental health assessment. Liliana Porter: moderate depression, with suicidal tendencies.

He set the paper aside, his voice grave. “When did you get this checked?”

Liliana hesitated, her cheeks coloring with embarrassment. “Just a little while ago. My mom insisted that after what happened yesterday, I had to be out of my mind. She dragged a psychiatrist in here to evaluate me.”