Vane rushed to the door, nearly tripping over his own feet. Nora was right behind him. But the second they saw who was standing outside, both of them stopped dead.
Mouths hung open. Eyes widened.
It wasn’t a salesman. It wasn’t a neighbor. It wasn’t even someone they recognized at first.
Standing there was a bald, middle-aged man in a white hospital patient robe. His left leg was encased in a thick plaster cast, and he leaned awkwardly on a pair of crutches, sweat beading on his shiny scalp. Behind him stood three men in black suits, clearly his private security detail. Every one of them wore earpieces and stone-cold expressions.
For a moment, silence choked the doorway.
Then the bald man smiled—too wide, too forced.
“Good morning,” he said, his voice almost cheerful. “Declan Raze. President of Phantom Core.”
Vane and Nora blinked at the same time. Their expressions didn't shift. They couldn’t process what they were hearing.
Declan continued, grin stretching. “I just wanted to say… I’m deeply sorry for offending Mr. Rift and Ms. Verrick yesterday. I’ve been overwhelmed with guilt ever since. Couldn’t sleep. Couldn’t eat. It’s been weighing on me all night.”
He placed a hand to his chest as if to emphasize the gravity of his suffering.
“I came here this morning,” he went on, “to offer my sincerest apology to you and your family.”
There it was again—silence. Heavy and bizarre.
Nora’s lips moved, but nothing came out.
Vane just stared, trying to reconcile what he was seeing with what he knew. Declan Raze. The same arrogant bastard who nearly started a war at the hospital yesterday. Now standing in their hallway, soaked in sweat, panting like he’d run a marathon, and talking like a repentant monk?
It didn’t make sense.
Their eyes flicked back toward the dining table, where Jaden sat calmly feeding cereal to Mia.
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