Nathan leaned back against the cabin wall, his brow shadowed by thoughts darker than the bruise on his cheek. The pain didn't matter—it rarely did anymore. What gnawed at him was the precision of the attack, how the goons seemed uninterested in anything but his death.
"They only wanted to kill me…" he muttered, the words scraping against his throat like sandpaper. His jaw clenched. "Or maybe he'll come after me himself… I swear, I'll make sure he rots in jail. And I will find out who sent those damn men."
The rage burned cold.
Outside, the sound of approaching voices pulled him back to the present. The family was arriving—footsteps mixed with concern and confusion. Meanwhile, Catty, always a beat ahead or behind, was already peeking through the patient rooms like a nosy spirit with a badge.
"Who's that lady?" she murmured, narrowing her eyes at a distant nurse. Then a flash of memory hit—Monica's earlier outburst, and the sly looks she gave Nathan.
Catty swallowed. "I trust Nate… and I'm not insecure about him," she whispered to herself, though her fidgeting fingers told a different story. She turned away quickly and exited.
Inside the room, concern flowed in like a tide.
"What happened, Nate? You're injured?" Kuku asked, rushing to his side.
"Kuku, I'm fine," Nathan replied, brushing it off. "It's just a bruise. Vicky treated it."
That name dropped like a coin in water.
"Vicky?" Cinthia repeated, brows rising.
"Vicky? Where's she?" Kuku echoed. Catty reappeared just then, her ears on high alert.
"She's in my treatment room," Nathan said casually.
"Hmm. Your only room," Monica remarked, sauntering past. "Thought you were the only one who got treated in there. Classic, bro." She grabbed a set of clothes and disappeared like mist.
Catty's eyes narrowed. "Who's Vicky?"
Nathan looked at her—really looked—and in a flash, he was back to the night before. The almost-kiss at Vicky. The moment he almost forgot the world. His silence dragged just long enough for Cinthia to open her mouth.
"She's—"
"She's your wedding planner, my dear," Kuku cut in with a tight smile. "Now, please take us to her."
"She's still unconscious," Nathan said, tone even, but his fingers were twitching.
Catty stepped closer, her concern real this time. "Oh, Nate… how are you really? I was so worried about you."
"I'm fine," he said. "You must worry less…"
But his attention had already drifted—Sofia was staring at him. Not with sympathy. Not even suspicion. Something colder. Calculating. He made a mental note to keep his walls high.
---
Meanwhile, Ruben's phone lit up. Evan.
"I'm here," Evan's voice came through.
"Yeah, just come inside. Ask for Nathan Shikongo at reception. That's the only way they'll let you in," Ruben replied.
"Nathan Shikongo?" Evan blinked. "I'm here for Vicky Samuels."
"Yes. Just… trust me," Ruben said and hung up.
---
Monica reached the treatment room and froze. Vicky lay still on the hospital bed, tangled in tubes and too much silence. Her breath hitched.
She stepped forward, only to be gently blocked by a nurse.
"She needs rest. Let her come out of the coma in peace," the nurse said softly.
Monica nodded, then held up the clothes Nathan had sent. "Mr. Shikongo asked me to bring these. When she wakes up, she should put them on."
"I'll make sure of it," the nurse replied.
Just then, Kuku appeared behind her. Monica turned.
"Let's wait outside. We're not allowed to see her yet," she murmured.
---
Evan pushed through the hospital's glass doors, trying to calm his heart. But just as he was approaching reception, something caught his eye.
Him.
A guy, leaning back with headphones on, drumming on the armrest of his chair. Daniels.
Evan hesitated. If he's here… then Monica must be, too. He swallowed his nerves and walked over.
Daniels pulled out his headphones with a lazy glance.
"Hi… can you direct me?" Evan asked, uncertain.
"No," Daniels replied flatly.
"You're Monica's brother, right?" Evan tried again.
"Depends. Who's asking?"
"I'm Evan. I recognized you from that day you picked her up at Mao Zedong. There was a competition…"
Daniels snorted. "Yeah. Competing's her thing. She's the orange of the family, and I'm the lemon."
Evan chuckled nervously.
"You need directions?" Daniels tilted his head. "To my sister's heart? 'Cause I can't help you there. I don't like you that much."
Evan blinked, stunned.
Daniels burst into laughter. "You should've seen your face, bro. I was kidding."
"Oh… Right. My sister's in here," Evan mumbled.
"Your sister? You sure? This is a private hospital," Daniels said, tone dipped in judgment.
Evan stiffened. Just like that, he was reminded of all the times Aunt Auguste would belittle his mother. "You people don't even look like your own class."
"Yeah… Don't mind me. I must've been really lost," Evan said, backing away. "Good talk."
Daniels shrugged and slid his headphones back on, completely unbothered.