Chapter 140
Juliana studied him.
Beyond the worry in his eyes, there was something else—a rage and murderous intent pushed to the absolute limit.
A strange combination.
"You want the truth or the comfortable version?" Juliana asked.
David's throat moved. "The truth."
"She was already stabilizing." Juliana was direct. "Her previous surgeon was highly skilled—the operation went well. But the last thing a post-op patient needs is to be moved or have their environment disrupted. It significantly raises the risk of infection and complications."
She paused, her voice cooling another degree.
"Forcing a transfer caused secondary trauma to the affected area and triggered a stress response in her immune system. Simply put, you took her out of the safe zone and pushed her right back into the danger zone."
David went silent.
Those bastards had arranged the transfer specifically to keep him away. If Chloe hadn't insisted, he might never have seen her again.
……
Juliana watched him, the sense of familiarity growing stronger.
Those eyes... and that faint little mole at the corner. Where had she seen them before?
A ridiculous impulse flashed through her—to reach out and rip that mask off his face.
Of course, she only thought about it. She had more class than that.
"Thank you, Dr. Wells."
After a long moment, David straightened up. "I understand."
He gave Juliana a brief nod and turned to leave.
Juliana watched his retreating figure. Then, like a lightning strike, a name shot into her mind.
That guy who was always hanging around Lucas—cocky, carefree, laughing like he didn't have a worry in the world. The one with a mole at the corner of his eye.
The former top-tier race car driver.
The one the Sharp family had thrown out.
"David."
She said it quietly, but her voice carried clearly through the empty hallway.
The man ahead went rigid.
His figure hesitated for just a fraction of a second—barely perceptible.
Then, instead of stopping, he walked faster, turned the corner at the far end of the hallway, and disappeared.
Had she gotten the wrong person?
The David she remembered was flashy and restless, like a playboy who never ran out of energy, the corners of his eyes always carrying that devil-may-care grin.
But the man just now...
Defeated. Suffocated.
Maybe it really was just a coincidence.
Juliana let her hand drop and shook her head with a self-mocking smile.
……
On the other side of the city, Bianca opened her eyes to an unfamiliar white ceiling.
She shifted—and immediately felt a dull ache at her wrists and ankles.
Fear poured over her like ice water, stiffening every limb.
She couldn't stay here.
She had to get out.
Bianca forced herself to think clearly. She scanned the room. It looked like a high-end private care facility, security tight—the two guards at the door made that obvious.
Forcing her way out was not an option.
"Water... I'm thirsty..." Her voice came out raspy, on the verge of tears.
One of the guards walked over without expression, poured a glass of water from the nightstand and handed it to her.
Her hands shaking, she touched the glass—then "accidentally" knocked it over.
Water splashed across the floor.
"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry..." She cried harder. "My hands are too weak... Can I have something warm instead?"
The guard glanced at her, face unreadable, then turned and walked out. The other guard followed, pulling the door shut behind them.
Her chance.
Bianca launched herself out of bed, ignoring the pain shooting through her ankle, and rushed to the door.
Locked from the outside. Of course.
She ran to the window.
Sealed shut.
In her desperation, she spotted a small bathroom connected to the room.
She darted in and locked the door behind her.
High up on the wall was a tiny ventilation window—narrow, barely wide enough.
She looked around and stacked everything she could find—the trash can, a small stool. Trembling, she climbed up and finally reached the window.
She looked down. Her heart shot into her throat.
At least the third floor. Below was a neatly trimmed lawn.
Jumping meant broken bones at best.
But staying meant something far worse.
Outside, the guards were already pounding on the door, keys rattling.
"Ms. Hale! Open up!"
Bianca set her jaw. Using every last ounce of strength, she forced herself through that narrow opening.
A heavy thud. She hit the lawn hard.
Just get away from here. Just—
A pair of gleaming black dress shoes appeared in her line of sight without warning.
They stopped directly in front of her. Still.
Bianca followed those crisp suit trousers upward, inch by inch, and slowly forced her head up.
Backlit against the light, a man looked down at her with a mild, almost friendly smile.
Logan.
"Why aren't you resting up?" He crouched down slowly until he was at eye level with her. He gently brushed the tangled hair from her cheek, handling her like a fragile piece of porcelain.
"Jumping from that height. That's dangerous, you know."
Bianca was trembling like a leaf in the wind.
She wanted to pull back but could only watch helplessly as that handsome, terrifying face drew closer and closer.
He grabbed her chin and forced her to look into his eyes.
"Since you won't behave..." His voice dropped low, intimate as a lover's whisper. "I'll just have to find a way to make you."
"Don't be scared." Logan snapped his fingers.
A guard in a black suit stepped out of the shadows, holding a velvet box.
Inside, resting quietly, was a small glass vial. The liquid inside was clear and colorless—in the dim light, it looked just like water.
Bianca's pupils contracted.
The compliance drug.
She had once held something exactly like this, smiling viciously, intending to pour it down the throat of that woman named Juliana—and that disobedient little brat Damian.
She had wanted to watch them become obedient dogs, kneeling at her feet and begging.
Today, it was her turn.
An overwhelming, almost suffocating irony swallowed her whole.