Dumped My Cheating Ex. Now I'm Sleeping Next to a Billionaire CEO novel Chapter 882

When the call ended, Dean’s face slipped right back into that cold, unreadable mask. He turned to his assistant and said, “Keep tracking Mr. Nelson. Do whatever he needs. Make sure we’re helping on his end.”

“Yes, sir.”

The assistant nodded and left the room.

Dean stood up and wandered to the edge of the pool, staring out past the thick trees to where the ocean stretched out forever. The wind tangled his dark hair, sharp and salty, exposing his intense, obsessive eyes.

James.

You did this to yourself. Next time around, don’t even think about going after my woman.

He might have handled everything outside, but the problems inside his own home were breaking him down, piece by piece.

Days slipped by. Emmy was still out cold, lost somewhere he couldn’t reach. She showed no sign of waking up. The private doctor came every day, checking her over, but nothing ever changed.

“Sir,” the doctor said, “her vitals are all normal. Her wounds are healed. Honestly, she should have woken up days ago.”

He hesitated. “It’s probably a psychological issue.”

Dean stared at the woman lying in bed, looking so much like a sleeping beauty that the fear inside him only grew sharper. Feeling helpless, he called in a psychiatrist.

The psychiatrist checked Emmy carefully, then looked up with a heavy, troubled expression.

“Mr. Sparrow, it’s worse than we thought.”

“She’s fallen into a psychogenic coma. Or, more specifically, a severe dissociative stupor.”

Dean’s voice was cold. “Speak plainly.”

The psychiatrist sighed. “It means she doesn’t want to wake up.”

He explained, “When someone with severe depression goes through a huge trauma or hits rock bottom, their brain kicks in a defense mechanism. She thinks the real world is too painful, too suffocating. Nothing left for her here. So she’s cut herself off from everything, locked her consciousness away in a dark, safe corner.”

Dean’s fists clenched at his sides, knuckles turning white.

He crushed out his cigarette and stormed back into the bedroom. He yanked the silk blanket off Emmy and grabbed her thin shoulders, shaking her harder than he meant to.

“Emmy! Wake up!”

“Please, wake up!”

Nothing. She didn’t even twitch.

Dean’s strength melted away, leaving him slumped over her, hugging her with everything he had left.

“Please…” his voice cracked. “Emmy, I’m begging you. Don’t do this to me. Don’t punish me like this. I was wrong, I know I was wrong. Just wake up, okay? If you do, I won’t keep you here anymore. I’ll let you go. I swear, if you wake up, you can go wherever you want. I’ll let you go…”

Maybe it was those last words, a little bit of hope slicing through all the darkness. After a month of being completely still, Emmy’s long lashes flickered, just once, like butterfly wings.

Two days later, morning sunlight slipped through the curtains, laying patterns across the bed.

Emmy opened her eyes.