Chapter 6

When Joe remained silent, Fiona changed the subject.

She reached into her briefcase and took out an elegant velvet jewelry case.

Inside was a stunning antique emerald set: a necklace, earrings, and a bracelet, each piece set with deep green stones that caught the light beautifully.

"You mentioned once that you'd been looking for the jewelry your stepmother sold after your mother died."

Fiona held the case out to him. Her voice was as cool as ever, though there was a quiet thoughtfulness behind the gesture.

"I had someone track it down. It took almost a year, but we finally traced the pieces to an auction house overseas and managed to reunite the entire set."

Joe's eyes finally moved.

His gaze fell on the familiar emeralds his mother had treasured so dearly.

Something tightened around his heart, bringing with it an ache he couldn't put into words.

He drew a deep breath, swallowing the lump in his throat, and accepted the case with cold fingers.

"I'll keep it. But I'm not going to thank you."

He paused.

"Because I'll be giving you a pretty big gift of my own soon."

Fiona frowned slightly.

She was about to ask what he meant when a soldier knocked and entered the room.

The soldier leaned down and whispered something in her ear.

Fiona's expression immediately turned serious.

She stood.

"Joe, there's an urgent military matter I need to handle. I have to go. I've arranged for someone to look after you, so get some rest."

Joe watched her hurry away.

He knew exactly where she was going.

An urgent military matter?

Please.

She was probably heading straight to the room next door to take care of her precious Xavier, who apparently couldn't do a thing for himself.

Over the following days, Joe quietly focused on recovering.

He was wheeled out for tests countless times, and whenever he passed Xavier's room, he could see through the partially open door that Fiona was there, personally taking care of him.

She brought him water, peeled apples for him, and spoke softly to comfort him.

She was so gentle and attentive that she seemed like a completely different person.

Each time, Joe merely glanced inside before looking away without a word.

After all, she wouldn't be his wife much longer.

Who she chose to care for would soon be none of his business.

One day, Joe returned from another round of tests to find his hospital room in complete disarray.

The drawers had been pulled open, and someone had rummaged through his cabinets.

His heart lurched.

He rushed to the bedside table and yanked open the drawer.

The velvet jewelry case was gone.

Joe immediately grabbed a passing nurse.

"Who's been in my room? Where are my things?"

The nurse jumped in fright.

"I... I think it was Mr. Blake. He came by earlier and said he was a friend of yours. He said he needed to pick something up for you."

Xavier Blake!

Joe's eyes turned cold.

He released the nurse and stormed straight toward Xavier's room.

Xavier was sitting up in bed, leaning against the headboard.

When he saw Joe approaching, he didn't seem surprised.

"Give me back my things!" Joe demanded, stopping beside the bed.

Xavier calmly closed his book.

"Relax. I have no intention of keeping your emerald jewelry. I just wanted an excuse to see you again."

He looked Joe up and down.

"Joe Kingston, everyone says you've got it all. You're the golden boy of Hemsouth City, the rich heir who does whatever he wants. You live however you please, and you've got women lining up from here to Paris just to be with you."

His voice grew bitter.

"You can have practically anything you want. So why do you insist on taking Fiona away from me?"

He leaned forward, his resentment spilling out.

"I already told you the truth! You know Fiona doesn't love you! She only married you because she needed that medication!"

His voice rose.

"So why did you have to seduce her at that nightclub? Were you trying to rub it in my face? Show off how irresistible you are?"

He was practically shouting now.

"Did you want me to see that even Fiona Spencer, who's always been so disciplined and proper, could throw away all her dignity and lose control over you? That she could go crazy for you, right there in a place like that?"

Joe stared at Xavier's hysterical expression.

His chest tightened so painfully he could barely breathe.

What a joke.

What a ridiculous joke.

Fiona had only been so desperate to sleep with him because she wanted to get Xavier his medication as soon as possible.

And somehow, Xavier was blaming Joe for it?

Joe had no interest in arguing with such twisted logic.

"Give me back my things."

Xavier stared at him for a moment.

Then he spoke in a strangely quiet voice.

"I left them in the morgue."

A faint smile touched his lips.

"After all, things that belong to the dead should be kept with the dead, don't you think?"

"You!"

Rage surged through Joe.

He wanted nothing more than to wipe that smug, hypocritical expression off Xavier's face.

But he forced himself to hold back.

Getting his mother's jewelry back mattered more.

He turned and headed straight for the morgue.

It was in the hospital basement, a cold, dimly lit place filled with the smell of formaldehyde.

Joe had been afraid of the dark ever since he was a child.

Places like this terrified him.

And right now, every hair on his body seemed to stand on end.

Still, he gritted his teeth and began opening the cold metal storage drawers one by one.

Finally, in a drawer tucked away in the corner, he spotted the familiar velvet box.

Relief washed over him.

He picked it up and held it tightly against his chest, as though he could draw even the slightest bit of strength from his mother through it.

But just as he turned to leave, a loud metallic clang rang out.

The heavy morgue door had been locked from the outside.

"Xavier Blake! Open the door!"

Joe rushed over and pounded on it, shouting at the top of his lungs.

Xavier's amused voice came from the other side.

"Well, Mr. Kingston, why don't you stay in there and keep your new friends company?"

His footsteps gradually faded.

"Let me out! Open the damn door!"

Joe threw himself against the door, pounding and shouting with everything he had.

But the only answers were the hollow echoes of his own voice and the bone-chilling cold.

He was still weak from his injuries, and between the fear and the freezing temperature, his strength drained rapidly.

Eventually, he slid down the cold metal door and collapsed onto the floor.

His vision blurred.

Then he lost consciousness completely.

He had no idea how much time had passed before he slowly began to wake.

Through the haze, he could hear faint voices speaking outside the door.