Adrian returned to the fourth floor with Ms. Fontaine just as Daniel was stepping out of room 412.
They crossed paths in the narrow hallway outside the room.
Daniel scoffed when he saw the two of them together. His eyes narrowed, the suspicion in them undisguised.
"I had a feeling," Daniel said coldly, his voice like a blade drawn slowly from its sheath. "There must be some arrangement between you two."
Ms. Fontaine looked at him, uncertain. "Excuse me? What do you mean, Mr. Blackwood?"
"I know you're conspiring to take Alina from me." He continued, his voice laced with cold certainty. "Don't expect to succeed. I'll make sure you're both destroyed before that ever happens."
Adrian paused for a moment, not immediately grasping the direction of the accusation. "Are you threatening us?" he asked calmly, though his guard was up.
Daniel scoffed again, impatient. "Not a threat. A warning." His gaze fixed hard on Adrian. "Stay away from Alina. I won't allow anyone to interfere with my wife."
Adrian moved to respond, but Daniel cut him off.
"Don't expect to take Alina. She's my wife. She always will be." His eyes shifted to Ms. Fontaine. "And I'll be taking Alina out of this hospital as soon as possible."
Ms. Fontaine held her professional composure. "The rules here exist for the welfare of the patient, sir."
"She is my wife. I have rights over her," Daniel replied coldly. "And I will make sure everyone involved in this welfare review faces charges for false accusations."
With that, he turned and walked away without looking back, his footsteps echoing down the quiet corridor.
Adrian watched Daniel's retreating figure, his jaw tightening. Then he stepped quickly into the care room, his pace sharpened by worry.
Inside, Alina sat staring at the television screen. Her face was pale. The traces of tears still shadowed her cheeks.
Adrian approached slowly. "Alina, are you all right? Did Daniel hurt you?"
Alina didn't answer. Her eyes stayed fixed on the screen.
When Adrian reached out to touch her shoulder to comfort her, Alina instinctively pulled away — her body drawing back from the contact as if by reflex.
Adrian froze. His hand dropped back to his side.
Alina turned to look at him. Then, pointing at the television screen with a trembling finger, she asked quietly, "That victim who died... was that the journalist who published the story about me yesterday?"
Adrian frowned, caught off guard by the sudden question. "Yes," he answered carefully. "He was found last night. Suspected suicide."
Alina stared blankly at the screen. Her mind drifted back to Daniel's words from minutes ago. *Getting my hands dirty. Meeting the same fate as that journalist who dared to bother you.*
The pieces assembled in her mind, forming a picture that made her chest go cold.
Adrian grew more unsettled watching Alina's expression shift. "What's wrong, Alina? Did Daniel say something to you? Did he threaten you?"
Alina drew a breath. Then, in a voice that was calm but firm, she said, "You should go, Adrian. I don't want to talk about anything."
Her face closed off. She looked down, her body visibly nauseated.
Adrian didn't move right away. His voice was more urgent this time. "Did Daniel say something? He threatened you, didn't he? Alina, if he threatened you, you have to tell me. We could actually use that—"
"Go!" Alina's voice sharpened, cutting Adrian off. "Please leave."
Ms. Fontaine, who had been watching from the doorway, stepped in. She moved to Adrian's side and touched his arm gently. "Mr. Lawson, let her rest. She needs some time."
Adrian hesitated. He looked at Alina for a moment — the woman who had decided to speak up just that morning, now closing herself off again within hours. Something had happened while he was gone. Something Daniel had said.


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