Chapter 185: The Plot Against Kristoff

Kristoff. What is he doing here?

For a moment, the noise of the emergency room seemed to fade into the background.

Isobel and Kristoff stared at each other across the crowded waiting area.

Kristoff’s expression changed the instant he saw her.

His eyes widened.

Then his gaze swept over her from head to toe, searching for blood, bruises, or any sign that she was hurt. His face tightened with every second that passed without an explanation.

Why is she here?

A hospital was the last place he expected to see Isobel.

And the thought that she might be injured sent an unpleasant jolt through him.

Without thinking, he strode toward her, his steps quickening until he was standing directly in front of her.

"What are you doing here, Isobel?" he demanded, his voice low but edged with unmistakable concern.

A deep crease formed between his brows.

"Are you hurt?"

His eyes immediately dropped to her arms, then her shoulders, her waist, and finally her face again, as though he needed to convince himself with his own eyes that she was unharmed.

Isobel blinked.

"I’m fine. I brought someone here. He’s sick."

Kristoff didn’t relax.

Instead, his gaze lingered on her face, studying every detail.

Someone? Who?

His mind began racing through possibilities.

If she was fine, why had she come to the emergency room?

Why hadn’t she called anyone? And why was she sitting here with two unfamiliar children?

His eyes shifted to Randy and Yana.

"Who are these children?"

The question came out sharper than he intended.

Kristoff studied them carefully. Their clothes were new, but their thin and exhausted faces immediately made him think of orphans.

But something didn’t add up.

St. Marian Orphanage is on the other side of the city.

So why was Isobel here?

And why was she with these children?

Before Kristoff could answer, Isobel stepped closer.

Her eyes immediately fell to the dark crimson stains splattered across his chest and smeared along the sleeves of his shirt.

He was wearing a white shirt so the red patches were glaring. Her heart lurched.

"Are you hurt?" she asked, her voice tightening with concern.

"I’m fine." Kristoff glanced down at the blood as if he had only just noticed how much of it was on him.

"It isn’t mine. It’s someone else’s."

Isobel’s brows furrowed, but the explanation did little to ease the worry in her eyes.

Kristoff had been at Hugo Castle that afternoon for a routine inspection.

Two months earlier, he had won the contract to restore the centuries-old castle in the Old Town.

It was an ambitious project, the kind that could make or break a construction company’s reputation. Restoring a historical structure was nothing like putting up a modern building.

Every stone, archway, and ancient wall had to be handled with painstaking care.

He had known the risks.

But he had never expected the scaffolding to collapse.

One moment, workers had been carrying out their assigned tasks.

The next, there had been a deafening crash.

Metal twisted. Wooden planks splintered. Dust exploded into the air.

Fifteen people were injured.

Kristoff had been close enough to witness the chaos firsthand. He had helped pull a few injured workers from the wreckage before the ambulances arrived, which explained the blood staining his clothes.

But there was something about the collapse that bothered him.

The scaffolding had been inspected.

It should have been secure.

Yet it had failed at precisely the wrong moment.

Kristoff couldn’t shake the suspicion that it hadn’t been an accident at all.

Someone might have tampered with the structure. Someone who did not want him to succeed.

And if that was true, he intended to find out who.

"Then why are you here?" Isobel asked.

Kristoff’s attention returned to her.

"You must have heard about the accident in the Old Town." He paused, his expression growing serious.

"Hugo Castle is my project. I was there for a spot inspection when it happened."

His gaze briefly shifted toward the emergency room, where injured workers were still being rushed inside.

"I came here with them."

Then his eyes returned to Isobel.

"I’ll check on their condition first. I’ll come back for you."

Before Isobel could respond, Kristoff turned and followed the doctor through the emergency room doors.

Isobel watched him disappear behind the swinging doors, her gaze lingering on the spot where he had vanished.

The Hugo Project.

She had heard about it. Almost everyone in the business world had.

The restoration of Hugo Castle was considered one of the most prestigious heritage projects in the city.

The castle had stood for centuries, and whoever secured the contract would gain not only enormous profits but also considerable prestige.

Many influential companies had fought for the project.

Kristoff had won it.

And now, barely two months into the restoration, a catastrophic accident had occurred.

Isobel pulled out her phone, intending to search for the latest news.

Before she could unlock it, a sudden commotion erupted outside the emergency room.

Voices rose over one another.

"Please, let us through!"

"Sir, you can’t enter this area!"

"Doctor! Just give us a statement!"

Isobel looked up.

A cluster of reporters was pouring into the hospital entrance, some carrying cameras, others clutching microphones and recording with their phones.

Several cameramen immediately positioned themselves near the emergency room, their lenses trained on anyone who emerged from behind the doors.

The hospital security guards hurried forward, attempting to hold them back.

"Everyone, please remain outside the emergency department!" one guard shouted.

But the reporters were relentless.

"Doctor, how many people were injured in the Hugo Castle collapse?"

"Are there any fatalities?"

"Was the scaffolding properly inspected before the accident?"

"Is it true that fifteen workers were brought here?"

"Who is responsible for the construction project?"

The questions came rapid-fire.

Isobel’s eyes narrowed.

The accident had happened only moments ago, yet the media had already arrived.

That was fast.

Then she noticed something else.

Several reporters were no longer focused on the hospital staff.

They were looking toward the emergency room doors.

Waiting.

Hunting for a face.

A man with a press badge suddenly raised his microphone.

"Is Kristoff Dalton here?"

Isobel’s heart skipped.

Another reporter immediately turned toward him.

"Kristoff Dalton? The owner of Dalton Realty?"

"Yes! He was reportedly at the construction site when the scaffolding collapsed."

The reporters became visibly excited.

"Then we need his statement!"

Cameras were lifted.

Microphones were readied.

The entire group shifted toward the emergency room entrance like predators sensing their prey.

Isobel glanced at the doors where Kristoff had disappeared.

A storm was brewing.