Footsteps echoed through the lobby.
Mia barely reacted at first. Her gaze stayed fixed on the floor until several men dressed in black entered her blurred line of vision. They moved with urgency, scanning the area. Behind them walked another man—tall, sharp-featured, his presence commanding even in panic.
Something about him felt eerily familiar.
He strode straight toward the operation theatre, his jaw tight, eyes sharp as they flicked around the lobby. Tension radiated from him in waves.
“We need to shift Alexander,” he snapped. “Find out if emergency airlifting is possible. We’re taking him back to Manhattan.”
One of the men nodded immediately and rushed off.
Mia didn’t look up.
She stayed seated, shoulders slumped, staring blankly at the floor tiles. The words barely reached her ears. All she could hear was the frantic thudding of her own heartbeat, loud and relentless.
But the man noticed her.
His steps slowed.
His gaze sharpened as he turned toward her, his brows knitting together. He walked closer, bending slightly, as if trying to confirm what he was seeing.
His voice stopped mid-breath.
Shock flickered across his face.
Then disbelief.
“Mia?”
The sound of her name finally cut through the fog.
Mia’s head lifted slowly, almost stiffly, as she looked up at him. Her eyes widened as they met his—gray, sharp, unsettlingly familiar. He had dark hair, a clean-shaven face, and strong, striking features that mirrored Alexander’s in a way that made her chest tighten.
He stared at her for a second too long.
Then he ground his teeth, turning his face slightly away as anger slipped through his composure. His voice dropped, rough and incredulous as he muttered under his breath,
“I knew there wouldn’t be any other woman that damn fucker risk his life for.Fuck…!”
Mia stared at him, confusion washing over her. Her lips parted slightly, but no words came out. She didn’t know what to say—or if she even had the strength to speak.
Before she could process anything further, the man who had rushed off earlier returned quickly.
“Mr. Graves,” he said, slightly breathless. “The doctor has refused to provide details about the operation. He insists the patient cannot be moved until discharge. But Mr. Graves is fine now—it wasn’t a serious injury. He just needed stitches.”
The man turned sharply, fury flashing across his face.
“Tell that damn doctor Magnus Graves is taking his brother away,” he snapped. “And if he has a fucking problem with it, he can come talk to me himself.”
He then turned to another man and barked, “Make the arrangements. We’re leaving with Alexander in an hour.”
“Yes, sir.” The man hurried away.
Magnus ran a hand through his hair, frustration burning in his eyes. He took a slow breath, forcing himself to calm down, then turned back to Mia. His steps softened as he approached her again.
“Mia, I don’t understand what’s going on between you and Alexander,” he said, his voice controlled. “But I know this—he may be harsh and cold with everyone else, ruthless even, but I don’t believe he’s ever been cruel to you.”
He paused, studying her pale face.
