“I’ve never been one to act out of spite,” Alexander Davidson said, his voice calm and measured, carrying a chill that was impossible to miss. “But there’s one thing I won’t let anyone touch.”
Nathan Davidson was no fool. By the time they’d reached this standoff, both men knew exactly what the other was thinking. “You’re talking about Danielle Crawford, aren’t you?”
The air in the hospital room seemed to freeze.
Alexander didn’t answer. He simply stared at Nathan, his gaze steady and cold, unreadable.
Nathan suddenly let out a quiet laugh, the sound low and knowing. “So that’s it.”
He looked Alexander in the eye, his tone almost gentle. “I always thought you’d stopped caring about anything. But now you’re finally admitting it—you care about her.”
Alexander scoffed, finding Nathan’s pretense almost laughable.
Some things didn’t need admitting or denying. They simply existed, like a brand burned into bone—impossible to hide, impossible to erase.
Yes, he couldn’t rid himself of those marks.
Nathan’s laughter faded. He stood, straightening his suit jacket with slow deliberation. “Looks like you’re recovering well, if you’ve got the energy to argue with me.”
“Well, since you know where you stand, I’ll let you get some rest.”
He walked toward the door, but just before stepping out, he paused and glanced back at Alexander. “But Alex—sometimes, the tighter you hold on, the easier it is to lose everything. Take care.”
The door closed softly behind him, shutting out Nathan’s gaze—and with it, the suffocating air of pretense he brought.
Nash Langley hurried over to the bedside, his face grave. “Mr. Davidson, what was that all about…?”
“He’s found your weak spot, sir. What now? He’ll go after Miss Crawford, I’m sure of it.”
Alexander leaned back against the pillows, his eyes calm, his tone icy. “He’s known all along, whether I admit it or not.”
He remembered every moment—when danger had threatened Danielle and Millie Fletcher, he hadn’t been able to stand back and do nothing. He simply couldn’t.
Some choices always leave a trace.
He knew Danielle—she might look delicate, but beneath that softness was a sharp, unbreakable will.
Nathan wouldn’t be subtle in his moves, and Danielle was far too clever not to sense danger.
And once she did, there was only one place she’d think to turn—maybe the only place her pride would let her seek shelter: here, with him.
He could wait.
Night crept over the city, dark as ink, swallowing the last traces of daylight.
Nash had left, leaving the room in silence.
The clock on the wall ticked, each second echoing in the quiet, tapping against Alexander’s nerves.
Lost in thought, he barely noticed the gentle knock at the hospital room door.
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