Three years of loving him, three days to erase myself from his world novel Chapter 159

Third floor.

The moment Clara stepped off the elevator, she immediately spotted Dominic leaning against the pristine white corridor wall.

He looked as impossibly striking as always. Every subtle movement he made seemed to command attention, making him instantly stand out among the passing nurses and patients.

Yet... his brow was deeply furrowed, and a dark, oppressive aura hung around him. He looked thoroughly exhausted. An unlit cigarette dangled loosely between his long fingers; he was clearly refraining from lighting up in a hospital.

Hearing the soft click of her heels, he lifted his heavy gaze. The glacial frost in his eyes shattered slightly the second he saw her.

He tossed the unlit cigarette into a nearby bin, staring at her intently. His Adam's apple bobbed a few times before he managed a raspy, "You made it."

Clara met his gaze, immediately noticing the bloodshot rims of his eyes. She nodded slowly. "Yeah."

Stepping closer, she couldn't help but ask, "Mr. Jarrett, did something happen? You look awful."

Dominic looked down. "It's nothing. I need a blood draw. Did you skip breakfast like I asked? Let's go in."

Since he clearly didn't want to elaborate, she didn't press. "I skipped it. Lead the way."

Dominic gave a curt nod and held the door open for her, issuing a few brief instructions to the physician.

Clara followed him into the sterile room.

Ten minutes later, the doctor had drawn her blood and rushed the vials off to the lab. It was a direct, irrefutable sample. Nothing provided a more definitive DNA match than a fresh blood draw.

If this test came back negative...

Then...

Dominic's hands unconsciously curled into tight fists at his sides.

Clara remained seated, pressing a cotton swab against the puncture site.

Due to her naturally low platelet count, even a minor scrape usually took ages to stop bleeding.

Now, with a direct needle puncture, the bleeding was proving even more stubborn.

Combined with skipping breakfast, her blood sugar plummeted. A wave of dizziness washed over her, forcing her to close her eyes and lean back weakly in the chair.

Dominic noticed her sudden pallor, and a sharp pang of sympathy shot through his chest.

Without a second thought, he stepped forward and gripped her shoulders gently. "What's wrong? Where does it hurt?"

Seeing that the cotton swab was already soaked with blood, his mind started buzzing. "Do you... do you have a low platelet count?"

Clara fluttered her eyes open, surprised he had guessed correctly. She offered a pale, helpless smile.

"Yeah, it's always been low. I tried a bunch of treatments for it a while back, but nothing really stuck. It's mostly just my terrible sleep schedule..."

Dominic's dark eyes widened, his grip on her shoulders subconsciously tightening.

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