Donovan glanced in the direction Conrad had left, then grabbed Hank. “What’s Mr. Beryl’s relationship to her? A mistress? A kept woman? ”
Hank shot him a disdainful look and spat out a single word with a smirk. “Wife.”
The word hung in the air, and for a long moment, Donovan couldn’t process it.
Annika was Conrad’s wife? But hadn’t the rumors said Conrad’s old flame was back, and he was divorcing his wife?
He recalled the stern, protective look on Conrad’s face just moments ago. That didn’t seem like a man who didn’t love his wife. A cold dread washed over Donovan.
Annika was hunched over the sink, retching violently, when a reflection in the mirror caught her eye. It was a man in a tailored suit.
She froze. Almost as a reflex, she spun around to face Conrad’s cool expression. For a split second, she thought she saw a flicker of panic in his deep-set eyes, but it vanished as quickly as a shooting star, leaving her to wonder if she’d imagined it.
Annika wanted nothing more than to be away from this man, to not share the same room with him. Acting on instinct, she turned to walk out, but a wave of dizziness washed over her as she took the first step. Her body swayed twice, and then she was falling.
“Annika!”
She heard Conrad’s desperate shout just before her world went black, her limp body collapsing into his strong arms.
...
When Annika woke up, the sharp scent of antiseptic hit her, and everything around her was white.

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