The Billionaire's Dangerous Obsession (Nivera) novel Chapter 195

Chapter 195

The sterile scent of antiseptic hung heavy in the air, sharp enough to sting Alejandro’s nose as he sat rigid in the private wing of the hospital. His shirt was half undone, his jaw locked tight, every inch of him radiating fury barely restrained. Martins stood before him, stiff–backed but uneasy, his usually calm demeanor faltering under the weight of his boss’s glare.

The doors to the operating room finally swung open with a sharp click. Alejandro was on his feet before the doctor even stepped into the hallway. His hands, still stained faintly with Nivera’s blood, clenched into fists at his sides.

The surgeon pulled his mask down, his expression calm but tired. “She’s stable.”

Alejandro’s chest heaved, a sound escaping him that was almost a growl. “How bad?” His voice was rough, clipped, as if each word was dragged out by force.

The doctor shook his head. “Not as bad as it could have been. The bullet didn’t penetrate deep–it grazed her side, tearing muscle but missing vital organs. She lost some blood, but with stitches, rest, and observation, she’ll recover. She’s lucky.”

Lucky? Alejandro’s jaw flexed. He looked down at his blood–stained sleeves, at the memory of her gasping in his arms, and his teeth ground together. Lucky would have been her not getting attacked at her.

“She’ll be fine,” the doctor reassured, tone firm. “She’s strong. And she’s awake.”

Alejandro nodded once, curtly, his throat tight. He didn’t thank the man. Gratitude wasn’t in him tonight. He just turned sharply on his heel, and for the first time since the chaos began, his eyes cut to Martín.

His guard stood rigid against the wall, face grim, his hands clasped behind his back like a soldier awaiting execution.

Alejandro strode toward him, each step radiating fury. When he stopped, the space between them vibrated with restrained violence.

“I gave you one order.” Alejandro’s voice was low, lethal. “Protect her. Keep her safe. That was your only fucking responsibility.”

Martins held his ground, though a flicker of guilt crossed his features. “I tried, I swear. The ambush was coordinated, military precision. They came from two angles at once-”

“Don’t,” Alejandro snapped, his hand slicing the air in frustration. “Don’t feed me excuses. I don’t care about the chaos outside, or who started shooting first. You had one priority–her safety. And you failed.”

Martins‘ jaw tightened, but his voice remained steady. “We were flanked before we could react. They had vans ready, men masked and armed. We didn’t expect such an attack, especially in broad daylight. They boxed us in and opened fire on civilians just to create panic. We neutralized most, but one slipped through the side. That’s how she got hit.”

He exhaled harshly, rubbing the back of his neck. “If I hadn’t covered her when I did, it would’ve been worse. I took down the bastard that shot her myself, but…” He paused, his shoulders sinking slightly. “I couldn’t stop the bullet that grazed her.”

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Chapter 195

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Alejandro’s glare didn’t soften. He stepped closer until Martins had no choice but to meet his eyes. “You think telling me it could have been worse makes it acceptable?” His voice dropped, steel and venom laced together.

“No, but she’s alive.” Martins‘ stated. “Because I did my job. I returned fire, took one of them down before they could reload. My men handled the rest. By the time the police sirens were near, the attackers had vanished. Clean. Professional. Someone planned this well, but we reacted faster.”

Alejandro’s jaw ticked, torn between anger and reluctant acknowledgment. His mind replayed the image of Nivera slumping against Martins, her blood staining her blouse, her eyes fluttering as she was rushed into surgery. The memory nearly ripped him apart.

“You still let them get too close,” he muttered, though the venom in his voice had dulled.

Martins inclined his head. “I accept that, sir. But understand–this wasn’t a random hit. They knew her schedule. They knew exactly when she’d leave. Someone’s feeding them information. Until we plug the leak, she’ll always be a target.”

Alejandro’s gaze sharpened. His rage began shifting, no longer directed solely at Martins but at the faceless enemy lurking in the shadows. His fists curled tight.

“I don’t care what it takes. Find out who’s behind this. Tear apart every lead, every whisper in the underworld. If anyone even breathes near her again-” He stopped himself, exhaling harshly, the promise hanging heavy in the air.

“Yes, boss,” Martins said quietly.

“Understand me, Martín–if I ever see her blood on the ground again while you’re standing, it won’t be the enemy who pays first.”

The threat hung heavy in the air. Martins didn’t flinch, but his throat bobbed as he swallowed. “Entendido”

For a long moment, Alejandro said nothing more. His chest rose and fell with measured control, his rage leashed only by the thought of Nivera lying somewhere beyond those doors. Finally, with a sharp pivot, he turned away, his suit jacket snapping with the movement.

He had bigger enemies to destroy. Whoever had dared to come for her in broad daylight, with such precision, wanted more than intimidation. They had wanted her dead. And that thought carved a hole in his chest.

Minutes later, after relentless pacing, he was finally told she had been moved to recovery.

The nurse led him down the sterile corridor, the soles of his shoes echoing on tile. His men kept their distance, lining the walls, but Alejandro’s presence alone was enough to keep the floor silent, heavy.

When the door opened, he paused.

She was there.

Nivera lay against the white hospital bed, her dark hair spilling like ink across the pillow. She was pale, too pale, but her chest rose and fell steadily. A thin bandage wrapped her side peeking from beneath the hospital gown, a stark reminder of how close she had come.

11:07 Thu, Oct 2

Chapter 195

Her eyes

fluttered open at the sound of him. Weak, tired, but conscious.

Tues

Alejandro’s heart clenched, though he masked it behind his usual sharp expression. Ife walked forward, slow, each step deliberate, as if afraid she might vanish if he moved too quickly.

She gave him a faint smile, lips trembling. “Hey…” Her voice was hoarse, fragile.

Alejandro sat in the chair beside her bed, his large frame seeming out of place in the sterile space. For once, he didn’t know what to do with his hands. They hovered near her, then finally settled over hers. His thumb brushed over her knuckles, slow, grounding,

“How do you feel?” His voice was quieter than usual, stripped of its armor.

“Like I got tackled by a truck,” she murmured, trying to joke, though the wince in her eyes betrayed the pain.

He exhaled, shaking his head, his thumb tightening its hold. “You should be resting, not talking.”

“Resting’s boring,” she whispered, her lashes fluttering. “Besides, you look worse than I do.”

A ghost of a smile tugged at his lips, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Says the woman in a hospital bed.”

Her smile grew just a fraction, then faded as she shifted slightly, wincing at the pull of her bandaged side. Alejandro’s grip tightened instinctively.

“Careful,” he warned, his tone low but urgent. “Don’t move too much. The doctor said you were lucky–it only grazed you. Any deeper and-” He cut himself off, swallowing hard.

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