I Married the Devil Who Ruined My Father’s Life

Nina’s POV

Frantic, I asked, “Why isn’t the patient being taken inside?”

The paramedic looked up at me, clearly uncomfortable, shifting from foot to foot.

“I heard President Wolfe’s cat got hit by a car. It’s being treated in the ER right now. He gave strict orders until the cat pulls through; no critical cases are allowed in.”

I blinked at him, stunned. My stomach turned.

“This is a hospital, not a damn vet clinic! How can you let this happen?!”

No one answered.

Even the correctional officer beside us exhaled heavily, rubbing a hand over his face like he couldn’t believe it either.

“You’re family, right?” he said with a tired voice. “Maybe try transferring to another hospital?”

The paramedic pressing on my dad’s wound didn’t even look up.

His tone was grim as he replied, “The next closest ER is ten minutes away. He won’t make it through the ride.”

My breath caught. I turned around to open the door.

“I’ll go. I’ll beg Fabian. I’ll ask him myself to let my dad through.”

But just as I was about to jump out, my dad grabbed my hand. His grip was so firm that the heart monitor began to beep irregularly.

I rushed back to his side, leaning over the stretcher, my voice shaking.

“Dad, don’t move. Please, just hang on. I swear I’ll fix this. I’ll save you. Just hang on, okay?”

His eyes fluttered open slowly and with difficulty. With trembling fingers, he reached up and brushed my cheek.

The oxygen mask fogged with each breath as he tried to speak.

My dad’s lips moved behind the plastic, and the doctor leaned in quickly, pulling the mask off.

“He’s not going to last long. If he has anything to say, let him say it now.”

I blinked forcefully. A ringing noise echoed in my ears.

The doctor and the guards got out of the ambulance, giving us privacy. Inside that small, cramped ambulance, it was just the three of us.

My mom leaned forward, pale as paper, and took his hand in hers like she couldn’t bear to let go.

She blinked through tears and whispered, “Rick, what is it? I’m here. I’m listening.”

My dad’s voice was barely a breath, thin and broken, but each word cut right through me.

“Don’t cry and don’t beg him. I’ve already accepted this. Willingly.”

His eyes found mine.

“Nina, don’t keep appealing. Just live. You and your mom, stay safe. That’s all that matters now.”

His breathing slowed.

“Honey, make that call. Take Nina. Leave Bayport.”

My mom nodded, silent tears slipping down her cheeks. “Okay... yes. I understand.”

There was this tiny flicker of peace in his expression. A soft release in his brow, a breath let go.

“Then I can rest... I can rest now...”

The monitor let out a long, piercing beep.

Flatline.

His hand slipped from mine.

I grabbed it again on instinct, squeezing tightly as if I could somehow keep him here with me, as if I could rewind the moment and stop time if I just held on tight enough.

But he was gone.

The silence that followed was overwhelming. My mom’s shoulders trembled beside me, her quiet sobs too heavy for the room.

I don’t remember how long we stayed like that, just the two of us huddled around the stretcher, holding his cold, lifeless hand.

Eventually, my mom wiped her face with the sleeve of her coat.

Her voice trembled as she said, “Nina, let’s take your father home.”

Out of pity, the ambulance driver agreed to reroute us to the funeral home.

When we arrived, the guards were already there. They handed us two sets of paperwork. I signed every page silently. My mom and I stayed until they cremated him.

Later, when we returned home, holding that small urn in our arms, she reached into her coat pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper.

“Nina, this is your grandfather’s commander’s number. Make the call.”

I glared at the number, unable to contain my fury.

Dad’s final words kept echoing through my head. He had to have been forced into saying that. He had to.

Was I really supposed just to run?

But then I looked at my mom’s face, streaked with tears, her eyes hollow and red, her hands trembling slightly where they clutched the urn.

No matter how furious or hurt I was, I couldn’t drag her through more of this. Not when all she had left was me.

I picked up the phone and dialed the number.

A stern, authoritative voice answered almost immediately. After a brief, quiet exchange, he said someone would arrive to get us the next morning.

I hung up and sat beside my mom in silence. We kept watch beside my dad’s ashes, the two of us huddled close in the living room, just holding on to the last thing we had.

That night, neither of us slept.