Entangled with the Mafia Don novel Chapter 4

Davina's POV:

The further I walked from City General, the more the initial shock began to morph into a gnawing unease. Every passing car seemed to slow a fraction too long, every pedestrian who glanced my way held my gaze for just a moment too long.

It was probably just paranoia, the lingering residue of the day's bizarre and unsettling events. But the feeling persisted, a prickling sensation on the back of my neck that whispered I wasn't alone. That someone was following me. Just as I was trying to rationalize my growing anxiety, my phone buzzed in my hand. It was an unfamiliar local number. Hesitantly, I answered.

"Hello?"

"Davina? It's Cecilia." Her voice sounded strained and composed.

"Cecilia? How did you get my number? What's wrong?" My heart lurched. Had something happened to my father?

"Look, I... I'm so sorry about what happened earlier," she said quickly, her words tumbling out in a rush. "My mother... she's just been under a lot of stress. It wasn't right of her to treat you like that."

A wave of conflicting emotions washed over me – a flicker of vindication mixed with a lingering hurt. "It was pretty awful, Cecilia."

"I know, and I told her so," Cecilia insisted. "Anyway... Malcolm.. your dad... calmed down a bit. And... he actually asked about you."

My steps faltered. He asked about me? After telling me to get out? "What did he say?"

"He... he didn't say much," Cecilia admitted. "But he seemed... regretful. He wants to apologize for how he acted. He thinks maybe... maybe things got off on the wrong foot. Would you... would you consider coming back to the hospital? Just to... clear the air?"

The idea was unsettling. Part of me wanted to run as far away from that place and my fractured family as possible. But another part, a stubborn flicker of hope or perhaps just a desperate need for answers, hesitated. "He really wants to apologize?"

"Yes," Cecilia affirmed, her voice sounding genuinely earnest. "Please, Davina. Just give him a chance to explain. Maybe... maybe we can all try to understand what's going on."

I chewed on my lip, the feeling of being watched still nagging at the edge of my awareness. But the possibility of understanding, of finally piecing together the fragments of my father's strange behavior, was a powerful lure. "Okay," I said slowly. "Okay, Cecilia. I'll come back."

A startled gasp escaped my lips. "Who are you?" The question hung in the sterile air, unanswered.

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The Stranger's POV:

The subtle shift in the room told me she was there. I let the shadows near the window cling to me a moment longer, observing, before detaching myself. It was time. As I moved into the sliver of light from the blinds, her gaze snapped to me. A gasp, soft and sharp, escaped her lips.

Davina. She was even more captivating than my sources suggested. Her eyes, wide with surprise and a flicker of fear, were a vibrant contrast to the sterile room. Her face, framed by what I could now see was a cascade of dark hair, held a delicate beauty, a vulnerability that only sharpened my intent. I felt a familiar, predatory hum deep in my chest. She was a prize, and I intended to claim her.

"Who are you?" Her voice, though trembling slightly, held an unexpected resilience. The question hung between us, but I offered no answer. Not yet. There was a silent power play unfolding, and I was in no hurry to reveal my hand. This was only the beginning.