She turned at once and started walking.
Magnus reacted on instinct, catching her arm gently and pulling her back just enough to stop her. He stepped in front of her, blocking her path. This time, his expression had softened, the earlier aggression stripped away.
“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “For talking to you like that on the phone.”
Mia stilled, eyes flicking up to him.
“I didn’t mean to threaten you,” Magnus continued, voice lower now, more controlled. “I just… lost my temper.”
He hesitated, then added, more seriously, “He got into that accident after you talked about your ex. He lost control. That’show he ended up like this. I was scared he would lose his mind again… like he did five years ago. Over you.”
Mia’s weight shifted slightly to one foot. Confusion sharpened in her eyes, a crease forming between her brows. “I’m sorry… I don’t understand. What do you mean, five years ago?”
Magnus froze. His jaw tightened and his eyes flicked away for a fraction of a second, almost instinctively, as if the words had slipped out before he could stop them. “That bastard hasn’t told his wife anything about this madness over her? What the hell is he doing pretending to be a goody two-shoes in front of her?” he cursed silently.
He inhaled slowly, releasing it in a controlled breath, and gently let go of her arm, stepping back slightly to give her space. He straightened his shoulders before continuing.
“Five years ago when he found out that you had married someone else… he fell badly sick,” Magnus said carefully, his voice even but carrying a faint tremor of old worry. “He crashed mentally, too. He was in Canada back then, studying, preparing to take over our business… but he became so sick he couldn’t even fly back. We had to go there to take care of him.”
Magnus exhaled sharply, running a hand down the side of his face as if wiping away memories that still stung.
“It took him a long time to recover… to accept that you married someone else by choice,” he continued, voice heavy. His eyes flicked briefly toward the hospital doors, then back to Mia. “And it killed him… that his decision to wait, to meet you later when he was in a better position as a man, ended up costing him you. He regretted not confessing sooner. He’s been in love with you since the first time you met.”
Mia stiffened, a sudden chill running down her spine as the weight of Magnus’s words sank deep into her chest. She had never imagined his feelings had run that deep—deep enough to break himwhen she married James. The thought made her stomach twist, a sharp, gnawing worry she couldn’t hide, though she forced herself to stay composed.
She didn’t speak of it to Magnus. Instead, she gave a small, measured nod, her fingers brushing lightly against her coat as she whispered, “Thank you for telling me.”
Without another word, she turned and walked down the hospital corridor, each step measured, the soft click of her shoes against the polished floor echoing faintly. Her mind raced, but her outward composure remained flawless, masking the storm of emotions inside her.
When she reached the door to Alexander’s room, she paused for a fraction of a second, taking a deep breath before stepping inside.
Alexander’s voice cut through the quiet room sharply, a growl of frustration. “I told you—just leave me the fuck alo—”
He turned mid-shout toward the door and froze.
Mia stood there, framed in the doorway.
Chapter 11 Begging For Forgiveness
The anger evaporated from his face instantly, replaced by a rush of relief and joy so palpable it nearly knocked the breath out of him. His shoulders relaxed, his chest rising and falling more evenly.
“Mia.”
He breathed her name like it was oxygen, like the air had been absent from his lungs for years. His hand lifted with growing urgency, extending toward her—a silent, pleading invitation.
Mia’s gaze flickered to his outstretched hand, hesitation flickering across her face. But the pull of the moment, the raw need in his eyes, was impossible to resist. She stepped forward, her fingers brushing his before intertwining with his.
The instant her hand met his, Alexander’s arms moved instinctively. He guided her gently, pulling her down so she could sit beside him on the bed.
“Thank you for coming to see me,” he said softly.
Mia’s eyes fell immediately to his injuries—the bandage on his forehead, the faint scratches along his arm—and guilt swept over her like a cold wave. Her shoulders tensed, and her fingers tightened slightly in his grip.
“I’m sorry,” she murmured, her voice barely audible. “I shouldn’t have spoken about James last night.”
Alexander shook his head almost imperceptibly, his gaze never leaving hers. “Don’t worry about it. It doesn’t matter at all,” he said quickly, reassuringly, but there was a vulnerability in his expression, a hint of lingering hurt. He studied her carefully, as though memorizing every detail of her face. “Are you all right? How did you get here?”
“I took a cab,” Mia answered quietly, her hand resting gently against his.
