Chapter 143: The Hospital

Kristoff remained quietly at the side, saying nothing.

Only now, with the chaos finally over and the surge of adrenaline fading from his system, did the pain truly set in. A sharp ache shot through both legs, forcing him to subtly shift his weight to keep from grimacing. Every muscle below his waist protested the reckless leap he’d taken moments ago.

Isobel turned toward him. The relief on her face quickly melted into concern as she caught the flicker of pain he failed to hide.

"Kristoff... are you alright?" she asked, her voice laced with worry.

Morgan’s gaze followed hers.

Earlier, he had witnessed Kristoff hurl himself from the second floor with Isobel securely strapped to his back. At the time, there had been no hesitation—only the desperate determination to get her to safety.

His eyes drifted downward to Kristoff’s polished leather shoes. They were the kind that cost a supervisor three months’ salary, now scuffed and scraped from the impact.

The landing couldn’t have been gentle.

Kristoff let out a quiet breath before offering an easy smile.

"I think I strained my legs a little," he said casually. "I’ll stop by the hospital and have them checked."

"I’ll go with you," Isobel said without a moment’s hesitation.

Morgan slowly turned to look at her, his expression hardening with unmistakable disapproval.

"That would be great," Kristoff replied, his smile widening ever so slightly.

"Shameless," Morgan muttered under his breath.

Still, he couldn’t bring himself to object.

Kristoff had risked his life to save Isobel. Whether Morgan liked the man or not, that fact couldn’t be denied.

And the last thing he wanted was for Isobel to feel indebted to him.

With a quiet sigh, Morgan made up his mind.

"I brought my medical team with me. You both take the ambulance."

...

"Miss Lancey only suffered minor bruises," the doctor reported after reviewing the examination results. "Physically, she’s in good condition. However, after an ordeal like this, I would recommend having her evaluated by a psychologist. Traumatic events don’t always leave visible wounds."

Morgan gave a slight nod.

He knew better than most how resilient Isobel was. She had endured setbacks that would have broken many people and had always emerged stronger. Even so, resilience wasn’t the same as invulnerability.

"I understand," he said. "I’ll arrange for a psychiatrist to see her."

The doctor nodded before taking his leave.

Kristoff wasn’t as fortunate.

The jump from the second floor had left him with a badly sprained ankle. Fortunately, nothing was broken, but the doctor insisted he remain under observation for at least twenty-four hours.

By the time he was wheeled into his private room, the painkillers had dulled the throbbing in his ankle, leaving him with little to do but replay the events of the day.

A soft knock came from the door.

His eyes instinctively lit up.

For a fleeting moment, he thought it was Isobel.

Instead, Charlotte walked into the room.

The smile faded from his face almost immediately.

"Why are you here?" he asked flatly.

Charlotte stopped mid-step.

The disappointment in his voice caught her completely off guard.

"Kris..." she said softly, hurt flashing across her face. "Aren’t you happy to see me?"

She forced a smile and approached his bedside.

"I came as soon as your driver told me you’d been rushed to the hospital." Her eyes swept over the bandages on his ankle, her brows knitting together in concern. "What happened? Are you badly hurt?"

"It’s nothing serious." Kristoff leaned back against the headboard. "Just a sprained ankle."

His tone remained indifferent. But his eyes never left her.

They were calm.

Searching.

Charlotte shifted uneasily beneath his gaze.

Something about him felt... different.

He wasn’t looking at her with the warmth he once had.

He was studying her and judging her.

The memory of Isobel’s desperate question suddenly resurfaced in his mind.

Was it Charlotte who sent you?

At the time, he had dismissed it as an absurd accusation born from fear and confusion.

Charlotte?

The woman he had always believed to be gentle, compassionate, and incapable of hurting anyone?

He hadn’t believed it. Not for a second.

But after Alexander’s accident...doubt had begun to creep into his heart.

It was only a tiny crack. Yet once doubt appeared, it had a way of spreading.

Charlotte felt a chill crawl down her spine.

The man lying before her looked the same. But something fundamental had changed.

She could no longer read him. And that nagging feeling that she might be losing him, gnawed at the edge of her consciousness.

A flicker of panic flashed through her eyes before she quickly concealed it behind another gentle smile.

She couldn’t let that happen.

Not after everything she’d done.

She would have to regain his trust and fast.

...

A gentle knock sounded on the door before it slowly swung open.

Morgan arrived with Isobel by his side. He was about to step inside when his eyes landed on Charlotte.

He stopped.

Sensing the sudden pause, Isobel lifted her gaze.

Charlotte was sitting beside Kristoff’s bed, speaking to him with quiet concern.

For a heartbeat, everything around her seemed to fade into silence.

A dull ache spread through her chest.

She lowered her eyes almost immediately, afraid that if she looked any longer, the emotions swirling within them would betray her.

Disappointment. Bitterness.

And a pain she had no right to feel.

She drew a slow, steady breath, forcing every trace of emotion behind the calm expression she had carefully learned to wear.

"Thank you for today," Morgan said sincerely. "We’ll come another day to thank you properly."

Kristoff’s fingers slowly curled into the bedsheet beneath the blanket.

So they weren’t staying.

His gaze instinctively drifted toward Isobel, hoping—if only for a moment—that she would say something.

Anything.

But she kept her eyes lowered, her silence stretching between them like an invisible wall.

The hope that had quietly bloomed in his chest withered just as quickly.

He forced a faint smile.

"There’s no need to thank me. I’m just glad you are safe."

Charlotte glanced at Kristoff, then at Morgan, then back to Kristoff.

’What where they talking about?’ she murmured.