All Chapters of HIS COLD ADDICTION : Chapter 71 - Chapter 80

The day Arthur Voss was scheduled to be questioned began too normally.Sunlight spilled through the curtains. The city moved as usual. Traffic flowed. People went to work. News anchors smiled on morning television.But inside the penthouse, tension hummed like a live wire.Tiana could feel it in Vince.He was composed, yes.But alert in a way that made her pulse match his.“They’ll pick him up by noon,” Vince said, checking his phone for the third time in a minute.She nodded, standing near the kitchen counter with a mug she hadn’t taken a sip from.Her thoughts were restless.Unsettled.Like something bad was waiting just out of sight.At 11:43 a.m., Vince’s phone rang.He answered immediately.His expression changed.Not panic.Not fear.But something sharp.Focused.“What do you mean he’s not there?” Vince asked quietly.Tiana’s stomach dropped.He listened.Then his jaw tightened.“He left his house at 9 a.m. No security. No driver. Phone off.”A cold wave washed through her.“He

The days after Arthur Voss’s arrest moved strangely. Too calm. Too normal. As if the world had already forgotten the earthquake that had shaken Tiana’s life for a year. But inside her, things were still shifting. Settling. Rearranging. She woke late that morning, sunlight warm against her face. Vince was already out of bed, the faint sound of his voice drifting from the living room as he handled calls in a low, controlled tone. For once, she didn’t rush to join him. She stayed there. Lying still. Listening to nothing. And realizing— Her mind wasn’t racing anymore. When she finally stepped into the living room, Vince looked up immediately. “Morning.” She smiled faintly. “Morning.” He studied her face carefully. “You slept.” “I did.” It felt like an achievement. They had breakfast quietly. No tension. No fear. No strategy discussions. Just two people sitting across from each other, eating toast and drinking coffee like the world wasn’t on fire. Tiana noticed th

The hospital smelled the same as always.Sterile.Cold.Too clean.Tiana sat in the passenger seat of Vince’s car for a long moment before opening the door. Her fingers rested on the handle, unmoving, while her heart beat too fast in her chest.This place had always meant one thing to her.A countdown.An ending.Vince noticed her hesitation but didn’t rush her.“I’m right here,” he said quietly.She nodded and stepped out.Inside, everything felt too bright.Too loud.The receptionist smiled politely as Vince checked them in, but Tiana barely heard the words exchanged. Her mind was replaying every previous visit, every conversation where doctors had spoken gently about “managing time” instead of “finding solutions.”But today was different.Because today, she wasn’t here to accept.She was here to fight.That realization steadied her slightly.They were led into a consultation room where a specialist was waiting.A woman in her forties with kind eyes and a firm, confident voice.She

The hospital smelled like antiseptic and quiet fear.Tiana sat in the passenger seat for a long moment before opening the car door. The building loomed ahead—white, tall, impersonal. A place where lives were measured in charts and probabilities.Vince noticed her hesitation.“We can go back,” he said gently.She shook her head. “No. If I run now, I’ll keep running.”They stepped out together.Inside, everything felt too bright.Nurses moved efficiently. Monitors beeped with mechanical patience. A child cried somewhere down the corridor. Life and death negotiated here every day, and no one paused long enough to feel dramatic about it.Tiana clutched the strap of her bag tighter.“This is where hope feels clinical,” she murmured.Vince glanced at her. “Hope is still hope.”The oncologist explained the treatment plan in calm, practiced tones.Tests. Scans. A trial therapy with uncertain outcomes but promising data. Words like response rate, side effects, duration floated in the air.Tian

The first wave of side effects arrived without warning.Tiana had been feeling almost normal that morning. She even joked with Vince over breakfast, teasing him about how seriously he monitored her meals now, as if nutrition alone could bully illness into submission.By afternoon, her body reminded her that healing was not a gentle process.It started with dizziness.Then nausea.Then a fatigue so deep it felt like gravity had increased only for her.She barely made it to the couch before her knees gave in.Vince was beside her instantly.“Tiana?”She tried to smile. “I think my body just remembered we’re at war.”He helped her lie down, placing a cool cloth on her forehead.Her skin felt too warm. Her limbs too heavy.Every breath required effort.She hated this part.The part where she felt weak.The part where she needed help.“I don’t like this,” she murmured.“I know,” Vince said softly.She looked at him through half-closed eyes.“I don’t want you to see me like this.”He frowne