Chapter 6 : Look Elsewhere for Your Ghost

The heavy glass VIP entrance doors of the state hospital slid open with a soft hiss, pulling us from the angry storm into a world of harsh fluorescent lights and the sharp, sterile bite of bleach and antiseptic.

The night-shift staff froze the moment Julian’s polished leather shoes clicked against the gleaming tile floors. Conversations died mid-sentence. Heads turned.

The receptionist straightened herself so fast her chair squeaked.

“Mr. Cross,” she breathed, her voice tight with nervous reverence. “Dr. Aris has been notified. He’s waiting on the private floor.”

Julian didn’t acknowledge her. He simply kept walking, his large hand pressed firmly against the small of my back, guiding me forward with steady, possessive pressure.

The touch burned through the cashmere coat, a constant reminder of who held the reins.

I clutched the heavy fabric tighter around my body, the delicate white lace underneath offering no shield against the hospital’s cold air. My bare feet ached inside the cheap emergency slides he had forced onto me before we left the penthouse.

Inside the mirrored elevator, our reflections stared back at us.

Julian—tall, dark, and utterly in control.

I looked small and worn, drowning in his oversized coat.

The silence pressed down until I couldn’t hold it anymore.

“You come here often, Julian?” I asked.

“I don’t frequent hospitals, fake wife,” he replied flatly, his attention fixed on the glowing floor numbers. His deep voice filled the small space completely. “Stop looking for monsters in every shadow.”

The elevator chimed.

We stepped out into the hushed VIP intensive care wing.

Dr. Aris hurried down the corridor, clutching a tablet like a shield.

“Mr. Cross,” the doctor said, addressing the billionaire first, not the daughter. “We weren’t expecting you, sir.”

Julian’s voice cut through the hallway like a blade.

“What ward is my wife’s father in?”

Dr. Aris’s eyes widened as his gaze snapped back to me, realizing exactly who I was to the billionaire.

“Of course, Mrs. Cross. Right this way. Your father’s vitals dropped sharply tonight.”

The moment the door to the private suite opened, the steady beep… beep… beep… of the heart monitor filled the air.

My father, Arthur Sterling, lay motionless beneath crisp white sheets. The right side of his face sagged from the paralysis. An oxygen mask covered his mouth, tubes snaking across his chest.

He looked so frail, nothing like the powerful man who once lifted me onto his shoulders and promised me the world.

I rushed to his bedside and dropped to my knees, taking his cold, limp hand in mine.

Tears spilled hot down my cheeks.

“Dad… it’s Clara. I’m here. I’m so sorry.”

Dr. Aris cleared his throat gently from the opposite side of the bed.

“We ran an advanced toxicological screen. The results are deeply troubling.”

I stood slowly, reluctantly letting go of my father’s hand.

“What do you mean?”

“The substance isn’t in any standard database,” Dr. Aris explained, his brow furrowed. “It’s an unknown type of neural inhibitor that attacks the vascular system slowly over months. We only recognized the core chemical ingredients and their destructive activity inside your father’s body, but we are absolutely certain it triggered the strokes and caused the full paralysis.”

The timeline slammed into my mind like a physical blow.

Six to eight months.

When he first fell sick.

The exact period leading up to his collapse, the very catalyst that had driven me to assume the name Vivian Vance and go undercover at Cross Holdings.

Unexplainable rage burned straight through my grief.

I turned sharply to the doctor.

“I want every detail. The chemical breakdown. Where those ingredients come from.”

Dr. Aris shifted uncomfortably, his eyes darting nervously toward Julian.

“I’m sorry, Miss Sterling, but corporate policy prevents us from releasing those records directly to family. We can run the investigation internally, though—”

“Who decided that?”

Julian’s deep voice sliced through the room.

He hadn’t moved from the doorway, his hands tucked casually into his pockets, but his presence dominated everything.

Dr. Aris paled instantly. “I’ll get the files right away, Mr. Cross.”

He practically fled the room.

Silence fell over the ward, broken only by the rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor.

I marched straight up to Julian, stopping inches from his chest.

“You monster,” I spat, my voice shaking with raw fury. “You cold-blooded, psychotic monster.”

His gaze met mine calmly, tracking the frantic rise and fall of my chest.

“Watch your tongue, Clara. You’re speaking to your husband.”

“Don’t you dare use that word!”

I screamed, slamming my fists against his solid chest.

“You knew who I was from the first day I walked into your building! You watched my father rot here while your company swallowed everything we owned! You poisoned him!”

I hit him again, tears streaming down my face.

Julian absorbed every blow like solid granite, his body not moving an inch under my assault.

Suddenly, his nonchalance vanished.

His hands shot forward with blinding speed. He caught my wrists in an iron grip, pinning them against his chest, and stepped forward until my back hit the wall.

His massive frame caged me completely, heat radiating from him through the thin coat.

“Are you done?” he whispered, his voice dangerously low, his breath warm against my face.

“Let me go!” I cried, struggling frantically against his grip. “I’ll kill you if you did this to my father!”

“Look at me, Clara.”

I forced my eyes up, locking onto his stare. There was no panic in his expression. No guilt. Only a terrifying, absolute confidence.

“If I wanted your father dead,” Julian said, each word deliberate and falling like ice, “he would already be in the ground.”

“I don’t use a coward’s weapon to destroy my enemies.”

“I don’t use pathetic weapons like poison or drugs. I am Julian Cross. I destroy my enemies in broad daylight, on trading floors, where the whole world can watch.”

He leaned closer, his chest pressing against mine, his grip firm but not painful.

“Your father made a bad investment deal with dangerous people. He left his flank wide open. I took his empire because he was weak, and I used a sledgehammer to do it, not a needle.”

“If I wanted him gone, I wouldn’t waste months playing games. I would have buried him in a week.”

His breath brushed my lips.

The sheer dominance of his body, the solid wall of muscle caging me in, sent an unwanted shiver down my spine despite my fury.

“I am a businessman, Clara. I don’t have time to play with poison.”

“Look elsewhere for your ghost.”

The words landed with absolute certainty.

I stared up at him, my heart racing, and a horrifying realization settled over me.

His ego was too grand to hide behind an invisible toxin.

He prided himself on the loud, violent kill.

Julian slowly released his grip on my wrists, though he didn’t step back, keeping himself agonizingly close. His hand slid down, his fingers pressing possessively into my thigh through the cashmere coat, anchoring me to him.

“Now compose yourself,” he murmured, his gaze locked on mine. “The doctor is coming back, and we have a marriage to maintain.”

The heavy wooden door clicked open.

Dr. Aris returned with a thick manila folder.

“I have the complete chemical analysis, Mrs. Cross.”

I reached for it immediately, but Julian’s long fingers cut through the air, snatching it effortlessly.

He opened it, scanned it briefly, then snapped it shut and tucked it under his arm.

“Julian, give that to me,” I snapped, my voice cracking. “That is my father’s medical data.”

He ignored me, turning to the pale physician.

“From this moment on, Doctor, all records, toxicology updates, and internal investigations regarding Arthur Sterling are strictly classified under the Cross Holdings umbrella. You answer to no one but me.”

Dr. Aris swallowed hard. “But hospital policy requires next-of-kin authorization—”

“I am his son-in-law,” Julian interrupted coldly, “and I own thirty percent of the debt this medical board is currently drowning in. Do you want to discuss policy, Doctor?”

The doctor went rigid, then bowed his head. “Understood, sir.”

“Good. See that he is monitored through the night.”

Julian’s hand returned to the small of my back, steering me out. I glanced back once at my father’s bed, the monitor still beeping like a warning.

As we walked down the sterile corridor, a sick feeling settled in my stomach.

If Julian hadn’t poisoned my father… then who did?

The answer should have brought relief.

Instead, it only made me feel more trapped.

Because by locking away the only evidence that could lead me to the real culprit, the Ghost of Wall Street had just built a new cage around me.

Why is he everywhere? Why does he have to control everything? I thought to myself.

I looked up at his profile as he guided me down the corridor, his touch still burning against my skin.

The folder was gone. The evidence I needed was gone.

And the only person standing between me and the truth was Julian Cross.

If I wanted the secrets hidden inside that folder, I couldn’t keep fighting the Ghost of Wall Street from the outside.

I had to get close to him.

Much closer.

Close enough to earn his trust. Close enough to make him lower his guard and close enough to destroy him.

And somewhere along the way, I had to make sure I didn’t forget that he was still my enemy.

Because the most dangerous thing about Julian Cross wasn’t what he could do to me.

It was what he was starting to make me feel.