CHAPTER SEVEN — The Unwanted Bond

CHAPTER SEVEN — THE UNWANTED BOND

The discharge papers were signed by 3:17 p.m.

Adrian refused the wheelchair.

He refused the private ambulance.

He refused everything except the exact thing he wanted.

“I leave with her,” he said, voice gravel-rough from disuse and barely leashed violence.

He hadn’t let go of Liana’s hand since the neurologist walked out.

Not once.

Eleanor Jin stood in the doorway like a storm cloud in Chanel, flanked by two stone-faced bodyguards and the hospital’s head of security.

She had come prepared for a fight.

Adrian looked ready to give her one.

Liana felt the tremor in his fingers, the way his entire body angled toward her, shielding her from his own mother as though Eleanor were the threat.

A dark, illicit thrill slid through her veins.

She decided to twist the knife.

“Adrian,” she said softly, letting her thumb brush the inside of his wrist (one slow, deliberate stroke), “sit down before you fall down.”

He obeyed instantly.

The man who had once signed her ruin without blinking dropped into the nearest chair like a puppet whose strings she now held.

Eleanor’s eyes flashed murder.

Liana smiled, small and razor-thin.

“He’s coming home with me,” she told the room at large. “Doctor’s orders: familiar environment, minimal stress, constant observation by the one person he responds to.”

She lifted the discharge summary and waved it like a white flag dipped in blood. “That would be me.”

The head of security cleared his throat. “Mrs. Jin (the elder) has legal medical proxy—”

“Actually,” Liana cut in, voice honey over steel, “the marriage certificate says otherwise. And since Adrian is conscious, verbal, and insisting on leaving with his wife… I believe the law sides with the patient’s stated wishes.”

Adrian’s grip tightened, a silent, ferocious agreement.

Eleanor took one step forward.

“If you think I’ll let you drag my son into that house—”

“Your son,” Liana interrupted, “is thirty-four years old, worth roughly nine billion dollars, and currently looking at you like he’ll tear through anyone who tries to separate us. Are you really willing to sedate him again? Because the last time the staff tried, he put two orderlies on the floor.”

A muscle ticked in Eleanor’s jaw.

Liana leaned in, dropping her voice so only Eleanor could hear.

“Walk away now, and you keep your dignity. Force this, and the entire hospital sees Adrian Jin fighting his own mother to stay with the wife he supposedly never loved. Imagine the headlines.”

For a long moment, the only sound was the beep of distant monitors and Adrian’s ragged breathing.

Eleanor turned on her heel and left without another word.

The bodyguards followed.

Victory tasted metallic and sweet.

Adrian exhaled like a man surfacing from deep water.

He tugged Liana down into his lap without asking (simply took), arms locking around her waist, face burying against the side of her throat.

“Home,” he rasped against her skin. “Take me home.”

Liana let him hold her for three heartbeats (long enough for the heat of him to sink through her coat, long enough for her pulse to stutter), then stood.

“Get dressed,” she said. “We’re leaving in five minutes.”

He rose without hesitation, towering over her, eyes burning with something that looked a lot like worship.

She turned away before he could see the satisfaction curling inside her chest.

The leash was around his neck now.

She just had to decide how tightly she wanted to pull.

Outside, the sky had cleared to a cold, merciless blue.

Adrian walked at her side (no limp, no weakness), only the faint tremor in the hand that refused to release hers betraying how close he still hovered to the edge.

As the car pulled away from St. Haven’s, Liana glanced at him in the rear-view mirror.

He was staring at her reflection like a man who had found religion in the curve of a woman’s throat.

She looked away first.

Phase one was complete.

Now the real game began.