جميع فصول : الفصل -الفصل 120

By the time the car pulled up to the hospital, the flashing lights from cameras were already blinding. Cameras. Reporters. Microphones. Voices calling my name like it should mean something to me in that moment. It didn’t. The driver barely had time to stop completely before I stepped out, in a hurry to reach Claire and find out what the hell had actually happened. Security tried to push the press back, but they surged forward anyway, questions overlapping, voices loud, sharp and relentless. “Mr. Dhark, is it true—” “Was it an accident or—” “Are you still involved with your ex-wife—” I didn’t slow down. Didn’t look at them. Didn’t acknowledge a single word. They were asking questions. And I didn’t have time for answers. Once I was inside, the shift in the atmosphere was immediate. The noise dulled behind the glass doors, replaced by something quieter, more urgent—but no less tense. Nurses moved faster when they saw me. Conversations cut short. Eyes followed, then quickly

The room was quieter than it had any right to be. Machines hummed softly. The IV dripped in steady intervals. Everything about it was controlled, measured, safe—at least on the surface. I stood by the window for a moment before turning back to her. Claire was awake. Not fully recovered, not steady—but awake. And somehow, that felt more unsettling than anything else I had seen tonight. Because now she could feel it too. The wrongness. I moved closer to the bed, stopping just short of where I could reach her without thinking about it. “How are you feeling?” I asked. Her gaze shifted to me slowly, like it took effort. “Like I was forced to sleep.” The words were quiet. Flat. But they landed. I didn’t react immediately. “What happened?” I asked instead. “Before they sedated you.” Her fingers twitched slightly against the sheets. “There was a nurse,” she said. “Something was off. I noticed it. Then the IV…” She paused, her brows pulling together faintly. “It didn’t feel rig

The house was quiet when I returned to my study. I closed the door behind me and didn’t turn on the main lights. The softer glow from the desk lamps was enough. It kept the room controlled. Contained. My mind was already moving. Theo’s voice hadn’t left me. “You don’t know everything.” And then— Eva’s. “The pregnancy cannot be exposed.” Everything kept clashing together until it felt like my head was going to explode. I walked to the desk slowly, picking up my phone. “Get me everything on Eva’s medical records,” I said the moment the line connected. “Hospitals, private clinics, appointments. Full history.” A pause. Then: “Yes, sir.” “And the doctor handling her case.” “Yes, sir.” I ended the call without another word. No noise, no reaction, no movement. Because this wasn’t something I was going to guess. I was going to confirm it. It didn’t take long. It never did— not when I mounted enough pressure on the people working for me. Files began to c

The room was quiet in a way that felt tense. Not just the sterile kind of quiet that came with sedation and machines—but something softer. Something more fragile. I felt useless sitting beside Claire’s bed, with my elbows resting on my knees. My hands were loosely clasped in front of me— if someone entered the room, it must have looked as if I was holding myself together by sheer will. All the chaos that had happened— from the crash, to Claire being sedated against her will— it had all drained out of the air, leaving behind only the faint hum of hospital equipment and the slow rise and fall of her chest in her sleep. I must’ve been sitting there for at least an hour. I didn’t trust myself to move. I watched her face instead— paler than usual, with her lashes resting lightly against her skin, and strands of dark hair scattered across her forehead like they’d been placed there deliberately to torment me. A constant reminder that I had failed to protect her. Twice. I felt my jaw ti

Leaving the hospital that morning felt harder than I expected. Not because I couldn’t walk, but because every step reminded me that I wasn’t fully steady yet. The floor felt unusually firm beneath my feet, and my body seemed to be just a second behind every movement, like it was still catching up to the decision I had already made. But I didn’t stop or even dare ask for help. I just kept moving. Because going back wasn’t an option. Margot handled the discharge with her usual efficiency, signing what needed to be signed, and speaking to the doctors in a tone that made it clear this wasn’t up for debate. Nathaniel too, stayed close—not hovering, not overbearing, just… there. Watching. I tried not to notice. The car ride to the courthouse was quiet. Margot sat beside me, already going through notes quickly and precisely, her focus shifting back to the case as if nothing else existed. Nathaniel sat across from us, his presence steady, and his gaze occasionally f