Chapter 147

Watching Nathan shield Bianca, Logan's lips curved into a cold, mocking smile. "You really are as stupid as ever."

His gaze cut past Nathan to the woman behind him, razor-sharp. "You'd better pray I don't find a single shred of evidence. Because whatever you did to Cordelia—I'll make you pay double."

He turned on his heel and strode away, his voice trailing behind him like frost. "Stay away from Cordelia."

Otherwise, he couldn't guarantee he'd keep his hands to himself.

Nathan stared after Logan's retreating figure, something unreadable flickering in his eyes.

A tentative tug on his wrist pulled him back.

He looked down into a pair of tear-soaked eyes.

Bianca wiped at her cheeks, her voice small and wounded. "Nathan, do you suspect me too? I swear I didn't do it. How could I ever hurt Cordelia?"

Nathan's jaw was a sharp, unforgiving line. His cold gaze held Bianca without wavering.

Under the weight of his stare, her composure began to fray.

Was he doubting her?

His eyes were as dark and fathomless as the deep sea. His throat moved once. "Should I believe you, Bianca?"

Her expression faltered. Fresh tears spilled over, her voice breaking. "I thought... after all these years of friendship... you'd know what kind of person I am."

He studied her flawless face. His thin lips pressed into a frigid line.

Slowly, he reached up and brushed the tears from her cheek. "I believe you. But I hope you deserve that trust."

The last words landed like shards of ice.

Bianca shivered almost imperceptibly. She lowered her eyes. "Thank you, Nathan. For still believing in me."

---

Cordelia didn't wake until late afternoon.

Before her eyes even opened, the sharp sting of antiseptic hit her nose. Her brow creased instinctively.

"Cordelia?" A soft voice, close to her ear.

Her pulse skipped. Her eyes flew open—and there was Logan, tension etched into every line of his face.

Afternoon sunlight poured through the floor-to-ceiling windows, flooding the room with warmth.

"You're awake. Does anything hurt?" Relief softened his features. His voice was so gentle, as if he were afraid of startling her.

Cordelia opened her mouth to speak, but the searing pain in her throat made her wince.

Logan quickly explained. "The doctor said the smoke damaged your vocal cords. You can't talk for now."

Cordelia exhaled. She blinked at Logan. Temporary. She could live with temporary.

She reached for his hand, ignoring the burning sting in her fingers, and traced letters across his palm.

[Is Mrs. Landry okay?]

Logan's brow furrowed. He could tell she was anxious, so he didn't stop her—just asked her to slow down.

His fingertips grazed her brow, feather-light. "Mom's fine. She's in the room right next to yours."

Cordelia sagged with relief. She wrote: [Good. She got hurt because of me.]

Logan felt each letter form against his skin. His jaw tightened. "Don't say that. My mom is grateful you saved her life."

Cordelia's lashes dipped. A faint, helpless smile tugged at her lips.

She wasn't naive. She knew the fire had been meant for her.

If Bethel hadn't come to the set, she never would have been caught in it.

It wasn't a rescue. It was collateral damage.

"My dad is with Mom. They're both worried about you."

Cordelia gathered herself. She knew Logan was trying to comfort her.

Apologies could wait until they found whoever did this. Right now, the only thing that mattered was identifying who had tried to kill her.

Her expression hardened. She traced new words across his palm.

[Did they catch who did it?]

Logan shook his head. Something cold and dangerous flashed through his green eyes.

"The fire burned everything clean. Nothing left behind. The police have no leads either."

Cordelia's brow twitched. She opened her mouth to speak but choked on a cough, the urgency working against her.

Logan rubbed her back gently, his voice low and steady. "Easy. I've already got people on it. Whoever hurt you will not get away with this. I promise you that."

His words settled over her like a warm hand pressing against her racing heart.

But even that brief exchange had drained her. Her eyelids grew heavy.

Logan pulled the blanket up to her chin. "Sleep. I'm right here."

---

When Cordelia woke again, she was able to eat.

Logan had someone prepare a bowl of chicken noodle soup.

Axel and Bethel heard she was awake and came to her room.

Bethel's injuries were minor. She was already on her feet, though her voice was still wrecked—words came out one halting syllable at a time.

Axel wouldn't let her strain herself. He handed her a notepad and pen.

Bethel fussed over Cordelia relentlessly—asking after every ache, every discomfort. Gone was the aloof society matriarch. Her eyes held nothing but tender concern.

Cordelia understood why. She'd risked her life in that fire.

But the fire had been meant for her in the first place. She couldn't accept gratitude she didn't feel she'd earned.

"All right, all right—Cordelia's been writing back and forth with you for ages now. Her hands are injured too. Let the girl rest."

Axel noticed Cordelia's discomfort and gently took the notepad from Bethel's hands, signaling her to give it a rest.

Cordelia was genuinely kind-hearted. She believed Bethel's injuries were her fault, which made it impossible for her to accept thanks gracefully.

He and Bethel had been the ones projecting their own suspicions onto an innocent girl.

Bethel shot Axel a glare.

She was just talking. Why did he have to snatch her notepad?

Without it, Bethel resorted to gestures—miming for Cordelia to rest well and promising to visit again once she was better.

After Axel and Bethel left, Cordelia let out a long breath.

Logan looked amused. He dabbed at the sweat on her forehead with a tissue. "Are my parents really that terrifying?"

Cordelia glared at him. He had no idea.

It wasn't fear. It was guilt.

They were still talking when raised voices drifted in from the hallway. It sounded like Axel speaking with someone.

Cordelia frowned and nudged Logan.

Logan rose immediately, opened the door—and found Nathan standing right outside.

Like a ghost that wouldn't stay buried.

"Cordelia needs rest. You should go."

Bianca stood slightly behind Nathan, eyes downcast. "We're genuinely worried about Cordelia. We just wanted to check on her. No ill intentions."

"Come back when she's better." Axel's tone was even, but Nathan read it as the Landry family deliberately blocking him.

"That's not your call to make. Tell Cordelia that Bianca and I came to see her."

"Who do you think you are?" The cutting voice came from the doorway.

Nathan's gaze snapped to Logan, who stood with his arms crossed like a sentinel, filling the entire frame.

Nathan's face darkened. His voice dropped to a low chill. "Logan, neither you nor your family has the right to keep me from seeing my ex-wife."

"You said it yourself—ex-wife." Logan's tone was pure venom. "And who shows up to visit their ex-wife with their side piece in tow? Are you trying to make her feel better, or are you just here to rub salt in the wound?"