Chapter 121

The rain was coming down in sheets.
Even with the wipers on full blast, Daniel could barely see the road ahead. His hands gripped the steering wheel so tightly the veins stood out, knuckles white. With the storm raging like this, she couldn’t have gotten far… could she?
But he’d scoured every street, every corner, and there was still no sign of her.
Finally, he pulled over and slammed a fist into the steering wheel, the horn blaring for a split second. The image of Aurora-her face pale, clothes soaked, bolting out the door-stabbed at him with a guilt so sharp it left him breathless.
He hated himself for the cruel words he’d spat at her.
All he wanted now was to find her, hold her close, and tell her he was sorry. Make it right. Make it all up to her.
But the rain was relentless. She’d run off without her phone. She could be anywhere.
He drove on, heart pounding, panic tightening his chest with every empty sidewalk and rain-drenched street. Still, there was no sign of Aurora.
Desperation mounting, he called Will. “I need you to send people out-Aurora’s missing. Start searching now!”
On the other end, Will finally found the courage to speak, hearing the panic in his boss’s voice. “I already had someone follow her, sir. She’s at the hospital.”
Will had worked for Daniel long enough to anticipate these things. The man talked tough, but his actions always betrayed his feelings. As his right hand, Will had learned to stay a step ahead-just in case.
Hospital.
Aurora sat motionless on a hard bench in the corridor, staring blankly at the sterile floor.
She’d fled North Manor on foot-there was no way to catch a cab in that downpour. Just as hopelessness threatened to swallow her, a kind stranger pulled up and rolled down their window. “Are you alright? Where do you need to go?”
Her mind had been a tangled mess, but there was only one thought she could cling to: her grandmother. She needed to see her, to collapse into those arms and let herself fall apart.
The stranger drove her to the hospital. She wandered through the halls in a daze, stopping outside her grandmother’s ward. Catching sight of her own reflection in the glass-hair plastered to her cheeks, soaked through and shivering-she froze.
She couldn’t let her grandmother see her like this. It would only break her heart.
She waited until a nurse stepped out, then quietly asked her to buy some dry clothes.
The corridor was frigid, air conditioning blasting through the summer night. Aurora sat, drenched and shivering, the cold burrowing into her bones. Under the harsh fluorescent lights, her face was ghostly pale.
Time blurred. She didn’t know how long she’d been sitting there before footsteps echoed down the hall, growing louder, closer.
A shadow fell across her.
She looked up, expecting the nurse, and reached out instinctively. “Is that for me?” Her voice was raw from crying.
A warm hand closed over hers-fiery against her icy skin.
Aurora jerked away, startled, but the grip only tightened.
Daniel crouched down in front of her, taking both her frozen hands in his. His eyes were rimmed red with remorse. ᴛʜɪs ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ɪs ᴜᴘᴅᴀᴛᴇ ʙʏ.net
“Aurora.”
She struggled once, then stilled, meeting his gaze with a strange calm. Her lips were bloodless, trembling slightly. “Did you come to pay me off?”
Daniel’s throat worked. His voice was scratchy, rough. “I’m sorry. I never should have said those things.”
Aurora said nothing. The corridor lights carved sharp shadows across her face, leaving her looking distant and cold.
She just looked at him, her eyes emptied of emotion.
The nurse returned then, carrying a set of fresh clothes.
Daniel brushed his fingers gently over Aurora’s chilled, colorless cheek, voice soft and coaxing: “Go take a hot shower and change into something dry. I’ll be here when you’re done.”
The nurse helped Aurora to her feet and led her into the ward. The private room had everything she needed a hot shower, a safe place to hide.
Aurora slipped inside without a word.
Daniel’s face hardened as he turned and crossed the hall to another room.
Mr. Hogan Chambers sat on the sofa by the window, staring out at the storm, his cane resting on his knees. At the sound of Daniel’s approach, he looked up quietly.
Daniel’s expression was stone cold. His voice was even colder. “Why did you do it?”
Mr. Chambers ran a wrinkled hand over the dragon’s-head handle of his cane. His voice was thin and unreadable. “You two have to get divorced.”