By six in the morning, everyone outside Room 814 was already talking about Adrian Cole as though he belonged to yesterday.

Within twenty minutes, the entire eighth floor of St. Alden Medical Center was locked down by the New York Police Department. Detectives were reviewing security footage, while the assassin—a hired operative with connections to a rival syndicate in Brooklyn—was dragged away in custody.

Dr. Bennett personally verified every single bag, line, and medication hanging in Room 814, white-faced and trembling at how close his credentials had been used to commit a murder.

Michael Vance stood near the foot of Adrian’s bed, his hands thrust deep into his trouser pockets, his usual calm demeanor noticeably cracked.

"We are moving you to a private medical facility in upstate New York immediately, Adrian," Vance insisted, his voice sharp. "This hospital is compromised. I’ll have the helicopter ready on the roof in thirty minutes."

Adrian leaned back against his elevated pillows. He was still pale, his body racked with pain from the car crash, but the authority commanding his posture was absolute.

"I’m not going anywhere, Michael," Adrian said softly. His voice was regaining its smooth, deep timber.

"Adrian, someone just tried to kill you in an ICU!" Vance argued, stepping closer. "You aren't safe here!"

"I wasn't safe in my car either," Adrian countered, his grey eyes locking onto Vance like laser sights. "Which brings me to an interesting question. Only four people knew which route my driver was taking back from the Manhattan terminal on Tuesday night. You were one of them."

Vance’s expression hardened into stone. "Are you accusing me?"

"I'm stating a fact," Adrian replied calmly. He raised his right hand, gesturing toward the door. "Effective immediately, Michael, you are removed from your position as Chief Financial Officer of Cole Enterprises. Your security clearance is revoked. Your access to the private servers is terminated."

Vance gasped, looking around the room at the NYPD detectives and Margaret Cole. "You can't do that! The board—"

"The board answers to me," Adrian interrupted coldly. "I own fifty-one percent of the voting stock. Get out of my room before I have Detective Miller arrest you for corporate treason."

Vance opened his mouth to speak, but the two NYPD officers stepped forward, placing their hands near their holsters. Realizing he had lost the game, Vance glared at Adrian, shot a lethal look at Emily, turned on his heel, and strode out of the room.

Margaret walked over, placing her hand on Adrian’s forehead. "Thank God," she whispered tears in her eyes. "Thank God you're back."

"I never left, Mom," Adrian said softly. He kissed her hand gently, then looked over her shoulder at Emily, who was quietly picking up the discarded tubing near the counter.

"Mom," Adrian said. "Give us a moment, please. I need to speak with my nurse."

Margaret smiled, understanding implicit in her eyes. "I’ll be right outside, sweetheart."

When the heavy glass door closed, leaving only Adrian and Emily in the room, the sharp, formidable crime boss seemed to soften slightly.

Emily stepped up to the side of the bed, picking up his vitals chart. "Your heart rate is 105, Mr. Cole. You need to rest. Beating up assassins isn't part of the post-extubation protocol."

Adrian chuckled softly, the sound causing him to wince slightly and hold his ribs. "Is that an official medical warning, Nurse Carter?"

"It is," she said, looking down at him with a mix of relief and lingering adrenaline. "And my name is Emily."

Adrian looked at her, his dark eyes intense, earnest, and undeniably warm. He reached out his hand—the same hand she had held in the dark hours of the morning when everyone else had given up on him.

"Emily," he said, his voice dropping into a low, intimate register. "When I was under... down in that cold, dark place... I couldn't move. I couldn't see anything. I felt like I was sinking into concrete."

Emily paused, listening intently.

"Then I heard a voice," Adrian continued, his fingers reaching out to lightly touch hers. "A voice talking about terrible hospital coffee, fluorescent lights, and refusing to let people say goodbye to me. You pulled me back, Emily. You were the only reason I found the strength to move my hand."

Emily felt a warm blush creep up her neck, her heart doing a strange, fluttering flip in her chest. "I was just doing my job, Adrian."

"No," Adrian said softly, his fingers closing gently around hers with warm, protective strength. "You saved my life twice today. Once from the dark, and once from that syringe."