[Alice’s POV]The Santa Monica afternoon was thick with unspent heat.I nearly shattered the heavy glass doors of the clinic as I sprinted toward the underground garage. The emergency text from the Medical Center felt like a death sentence playing on a loop in my head: Shock, persistent high fever, abnormal blood counts.“Damn it!” I fumbled with my keys, but my hands were shaking so hard they slipped through my fingers and vanished into the narrow slit of a drainage grate.I was on my knees, clawing at the concrete in a blind panic, when the shriek of high-performance brakes echoed through the empty garage.A matte-black Bugatti pulled up inches from my old Toyota. The window slid down to reveal David’s face — cold, stony, and utterly unreadable. He sat there, his long fingers tapping the steering wheel with that signature "don't-come-near-me" detachment.“Get in,” he said. No questions, just a command.“Mr. Newcombe, I—”“I won’t say it twice.” His eyes tracked my raw, reddened fing
Last Updated : 2026-01-16 Read more