ログインNathaniel
My hand was wrapped tightly around her wrist. The grip was weak, lacking the steady strength I relied on in the operating room, but I couldn't bring myself to let go. I had asked her to stay. The desperate plea had torn out of my throat before my pride could stop it.
Adriana stood frozen near the heavy door of the East Wing clinic. The dim emergency floor strips cast long,
GabrielI didn't immediately walk into the kitchen. I stood in the shadowed hallway, my back rigid against the wood paneling, watching the scene unfold.Sebastian Lim, the broker who built his entire reputation on maintaining an untouchable, reckless facade, was staring at Adriana like she was the center of his universe. He didn't care that he was covered in flour or that his ridiculous attempt at making chicken piccata had nearly set the house on fire. He was entirely captivated by the sound of her laugh.The cold, familiar grip of calculation I usually relied on to manage my assets slipped, replaced by a sharp, violent spike of pure possessiveness.I was used to monopolizing high-value assets. I stripped corporations down to the studs, took the most valuable pieces, and burned the
NathanielGabriel’s dark, calculating eyes moved from the heavy lock on the door to the narrow cot, processing the reality of what he was looking at. He didn't raise his voice. He didn't need to. The sheer, terrifying stillness radiating from him was a physical threat."Reyes," I said, my voice low and steady. I didn't let go of Adriana. I tightened my hold on her waist, anchoring her to me.Gabriel’s jaw locked. He took a single, deliberate step backward. He didn't say a word. He didn't ask for an explanation or demand that she wake up. He turned on his heel and walked out of the clinic, pulling the heavy door shut behind him. The metallic click of the latch echoed loudly in the quiet room.I let out a harsh breath, running a hand over my face.
NathanielMy hand was wrapped tightly around her wrist. The grip was weak, lacking the steady strength I relied on in the operating room, but I couldn't bring myself to let go. I had asked her to stay. The desperate plea had torn out of my throat before my pride could stop it.Adriana stood frozen near the heavy door of the East Wing clinic. The dim emergency floor strips cast long, quiet shadows across the sterile white tiles.I waited for the rejection. I expected her to offer a polite excuse about checking the perimeter, or perhaps just return to the rigid metal chair beside the bed to keep watch. I was a grown man, a trauma surgeon, and I was begging for comfort like a terrified child. I felt entirely exposed, stripped of the confident, teasing armor I usually wore to keep the world at arm's length.
AdrianaThe steady, rhythmic beep of the heart monitor was the only sound in the East Wing clinic.I sat in a stiff metal chair beside the narrow medical cot, my elbows resting on my knees, watching the slow rise and fall of Nathaniel’s chest. The harsh fluorescent lights overhead cast sharp shadows across his face, highlighting the dark, bruised circles under his hazel eyes and the hollow cut of his cheekbones. He looked incredibly fragile.Just a few hours ago, he had walked into the grand foyer of Haven House covered in someone else's blood, delivered the final, damning timeline of the virus, and then simply folded into himself. The adrenaline that had kept him upright for three days finally gave out. He had collapsed right there on the hardwood floor.Rafael had caught him
NathanielI sat perfectly still on the edge of the narrow cot in the East Wing clinic, the stark white lights humming quietly overhead. I was too exhausted to stand, but the adrenaline spiking through my system made it impossible to relax.I coughed. It was a harsh, dry, hacking sound that tore at the back of my throat. It wasn't the first time I had coughed since returning to Haven House, but it was the loudest. The sound echoed off the sterile tile walls, sharp and terrifying.Rafael stopped pacing near the door. He turned slowly, his dark eyes fixed entirely on me. His hand didn't move toward the sidearm holstered at his hip, but the tension in his broad shoulders was absolute. He wasn't looking at me like I was a doctor anymore. He was looking at me like a potential threat."Nathaniel," Gabriel said, his voice dropping into a low, measured register from where he stood near the stainless steel counter. "When exactly did the cough start?""I don't have the fever, Gabriel," I replie
Adriana"Three weeks."Nathaniel’s voice broke on the final word, the sheer horror of the math bleeding into the quiet library.Three weeks. The number echoed in my head, loud and damning. I stared at the five vials of dark red blood sitting in the metal lockbox. My heart hammered against my ribs, but I forced my expression to remain perfectly blank.In the web novel I had read in my past life, the viral collapse took three months. It was a slow, creeping dread that worked its way through the lower districts before eventually breaching the gated communities. It gave the wealthy elites plenty of time to pack their designer bags, secure their private compounds, and retreat gracefully while the middle class burned. The original Adriana had spent those three months planning an extravagant wedding, entirely blind to the fact that her fiancé was using her fortune to buy his own survival.But I wasn't her. I didn't play the vict







