005

The door opened before Ava could even move.

She had already shifted her body, already decided she would step back quietly and come another time. She had heard enough to know this was not a conversation meant for her ears. But the handle turned anyway, abrupt and careless, and the door swung outward.

Liam stepped out mid stride.

He was already pulling his phone from his pocket, his attention halfway elsewhere, his face set in irritation like the argument inside had merely delayed him. He almost walked straight into her.

They both stopped.

For a second, neither of them spoke.

Ava’s body went still on instinct, the same way it always did when she walked into unexpected confrontation. Her spine straightened. Her shoulders squared without conscious thought. She lifted her gaze and held it there, calm on the surface even as her pulse jumped.

Liam looked at her like she was a problem he hadn’t planned for.

His eyes moved over her slowly, deliberately, from her face to her clothes and back again. There was no curiosity in it. No politeness. Just assessment. A quick decision being made.

She saw it clearly, because she had seen it before.

She didn’t belong here. Not to him. Not to this floor. Not to Greyson’s world. She wasn’t staff. She wasn’t family. She wasn’t important enough to register as a threat. Just an inconvenience standing in the wrong place.

“Who are you?” he asked.

The question wasn’t aggressive. It didn’t need to be. It was blunt and dismissive, like her answer wouldn’t change much either way.

Ava opened her mouth to speak, but she never got the chance.

“Liam.”

Greyson’s voice came from inside the room.

It was calm, steady, controlled. The kind of tone that didn’t rise because it didn’t need to. It cut through the moment cleanly, shifting the balance without effort.

Liam didn’t turn around right away.

His attention stayed on Ava, his expression tightening slightly now, irritation sharpening into something more focused. Suspicion. A woman standing outside Greyson Beaufort’s hospital room, close enough to hear raised voices. Close enough to matter, even if he didn’t want her to.

“This yours?” he asked, jerking his head slightly in her direction without taking his eyes off her.

Ava didn’t react.

She didn’t step back, She didn’t bristle or soften. She met his gaze evenly, letting silence sit between them. Her body ached, her ribs still sore from the crash, her head faintly throbbing, but none of it showed.

The Donovans had trained that out of her years ago.

Greyson answered before she could. “She’s a visitor.”

Liam finally turned to look at him.

A slow smile crept onto his face, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “A visitor,” he repeated. “Already.”

The word carried weight. 

Something shifted in Liam’s expression then. Not anger. Calculation. Like he was rearranging pieces in his head, deciding where she fit, or if she would be useful later. His gaze flicked back to her once more, brief but pointed, and she knew she had just been catalogued.

Greyson didn’t give him time to linger.

“Leave,” he said.

One word. Flat and Final.

Liam’s jaw tightened. For a moment, it looked like he might push back, might say something else just to assert himself. Instead, he scoffed under his breath, stepping aside.

“This isn’t over,” he said, not to Ava, not even directly to Greyson. Just to the space between them.

Then he walked away.

His footsteps echoed down the hallway, unhurried but heavy, each step deliberate. Ava waited until the sound faded completely before she allowed herself to breathe out.

Greyson was watching her now.

Not like a patient looking at a concerned visitor. Not like a man grateful to someone who had saved his life yesterday. His gaze was sharper, more focused, as if he was seeing her for the first time under different light.

“How much did you hear?” he asked.

Ava turned toward him fully then, stepping inside the room and letting the door close behind her. She didn’t pretend ignorance. There was no point.

“Enough,” she said. “He wants you out. He thinks the accident proved something, that you’re weak now. That you should step aside before something bigger happens.”

Greyson nodded once, unsurprised. “And what do you think?”

She didn’t answer immediately.

Instead, she looked around the room. The controlled quiet. The muted machines. The space that made powerful men look fragile when they lay still long enough. She thought of the way Liam had spoken. The impatience the hunger underneath it.

“He’s not waiting for you to reconsider or negotiate” Ava said finally. “He’s waiting for you to die.”

Greyson studied her closely. “You’re seem very calm for someone who just heard all of that and still insists on getting attached.”

“I’ve lived with worse,” she replied firmly.

“This is why you need me.”

The words were simple. No buildup. No dramatic pause. She let them fall easily.

Greyson didn’t respond right away.

He leaned back slightly, careful with the movement, his hand tightening briefly against the sheet before he relaxed again. Ava noticed, the way she always noticed things people thought they hid well. Pain acknowledged and dismissed in the same breath.

The idea settled between them, heavy and unwelcome and impossible to ignore. That Liam wasn’t just a nuisance, he wasn’t just bluffing. That time was not a luxury Greyson could afford.

“You’re assuming a lot,” he said calmly.

“I am,” Ava agreed. “Because I’ve seen what happens when families smell weakness. They don’t wait. They don’t warn you. They take what they think you can’t protect.”

The silence stretched again..

Greyson exhaled slowly.

“Sit down,” he said at last.

Ava didn’t hesitate.

She moved to the chair beside his bed and sat, her posture relaxed but attentive, her hands resting loosely in her lap. She met his gaze without challenge, without submission…