Chapter 235: Chapter 235

We stepped out of Nala’s office together, the glass door sliding shut behind us. The early executive floor was quiet, just a few lights humming overhead and a cleaning bot gliding along the wall. Nala walked beside me, smoothing her blazer, while I stretched my shoulders, still feeling the exhaustion from everything we went through.

When we reached the elevators, she gestured toward the stairwell nearby. “Let’s just take the stairs. It’s only one floor.”

“Hell no,” I said immediately. “I’m tired as it is. Even breathing feels like work.”

She smirked. “So what we did in the office didn’t take that much energy?”

“…Yeah, okay, that’s different,” I muttered. “Let’s just take the elevator.”

“Lazy employee.”

“Ouch.”

I pressed the button and the elevator opened. We stepped in, and I hit the button for the floor above.

“This Maeve,” I asked as we rose, “is she the same doctor who dressed my wound?”

“No, that was just one of the nurses. Maeve is our head doctor. She’s good. Very good.”

“Then Emilia’s in the right hands.”

“Yeah.”

The doors opened and we stepped out into a hallway that was just starting to see early traffic. A few workers nodded at Nala with that “CEO spotted” stiffness, and she nodded back, keeping her expression neutral. We turned left toward the infirmary—small room, last door on the right, tucked away like an afterthought.

Nala pushed the door open and we stepped inside.

Emilia lay on one of the beds… and there was a tiny, a small problem.

“Uh… why is she handcuffed?” I asked.

“LET ME GO!” Emilia screamed, thrashing hard enough to rattle the bed frame. “FUCKERS!”

She looked rough—hospital gown in that sick-washed green, hair a tangled mess sticking to her forehead, one eye swollen purple and half shut. Sweat plastered her hair down. Her eyes, one of the meanest pairs I’d ever seen, now blazed with even more fire.

Maeve, on the other hand, didn’t even glance up. She sat at her desk with her back to us, earbuds in her ears, tapping away on her phone like having an injured hellcat in her infirmary was normal.

Only when she noticed us stepping deeper inside did she turn, slide her earbuds and stand.

She looked young, but exhausted—like life had hurled ninety years at her in one go. Long brown hair grew out from faded purple dye, tired eyes, and her lab coat hung slightly rumpled. Not someone easily rattled. Her frame was slender, but damn if her tits weren’t huge.

“Sorry,” she said politely. “Didn’t see you come in, Ms. Nolin. Mr. Marlowe.”

“Why is she handcuffed?” Nala repeated sharply.

“Because she tried to attack me,” Maeve answered calmly. “So I cuffed her.”

“Where the hell did you even get cuffs?” I asked.

Maeve shrugged, completely unapologetic.

I exhaled and ran a hand down my face. Then I walked closer to the bed to check on Emilia. She stopped thrashing for half a second, looked right at me… then spat in my face.

Her spit slid down my chin as she burst out laughing—mean, triumphant, like she’d just won an argument I didn’t know we were having.

“Wow,” I muttered as I wiped her spit off my chin. “Your customers usually pay for that, no? I’m lucky.”

“Who the fuck are you?” Emilia snarled. Her laughter died as fast as it came. “One of Guy’s dogs? That bastard send you to finish me off?”

“Yes,” I deadpanned. “But I messed up the assignment and brought you to a hospital instead. I’m like John Wick but… the opposite.”

“Enough sarcasm,” Nala said, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Evan saved you, Emilia. He followed the blood trail from your apartment, all the way to your landlord’s place. You wouldn’t have survived there, so he brought you here.”

Emilia’s thrashing slowed. Her brows pulled together. “Bullshit. Guy would’ve cleaned the scene. There wouldn’t be any trail.”

“There was a droplet on the ceiling,” I said. “Barely visible. You gave your attacker a harder time than you think.”

She huffed. “I bit his ear off. Then stabbed him in the leg.”

“But he still injured you,” Maeve said with a tired tone. She stepped closer, hands tucked casually into her coat pockets. “He got your ribs good. Your eye’s bruised. And that slash across your abdomen? Lucky it was shallow.”

Emilia winced. “Yeah… feels great.”

“I was worried about internal bleeding,” Maeve continued, “but you’re clear. And the stab wound wasn’t deep, just messy. You did, however, break your toe. If you try to walk, you’re going to scream.”

“Cool,” Emilia muttered. “Fantastic. Love that for me.” She took a breath, calmer but still coiled tight. “Look… thanks. Seriously. But I can’t stay here. I’m not safe in any hospital.”

“You’re not in a hospital,” I said. “You’re in TechForge. Nobody outside knows you’re here. Guy can’t get to you.”

“Guy still has people in TechForge!” she snapped, yanking the cuffs until the bed creaked. “Are you insane? You brought me right into the fucking lion’s den!”

“Guy is no longer here,” Nala said. “I’m the CEO now.”

“And if he tries anything else…” I added, leaning on the foot of her bed, “…our little baby-boy is gonna regret it.”

Emilia went quiet. Really quiet. Her whole body loosened against the mattress, her head sinking back into the pillow. She shut her eyes like she needed a moment just to breathe without fire in her veins.

Maeve slipped one earbud back in, then looked at Nala, then at me—her expression shifting from clinical to tired.

“We should let her rest,” she said gently.

“Yeah,” Nala agreed, brushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “She needs it.”

We both started heading for the door when Emilia’s voice cut through—hoarse, but sharp.

“How?” Her eyes cracked open just enough to see us. “How did you get the videos from me, Nala?”

I stopped with my hand on the doorknob. “That was me,” I said. “I stole it.”

“You don’t even know where it was,” Emilia muttered, voice weak but still accusatory. “You’re lying.”

“It was in your bedroom drawer,” I replied simply. “Second one down.”

That shut her up. Her jaw tightened, but she didn’t have the strength to argue anymore.

“Rest,” I said. “We’ll talk tomorrow.”

We stepped out, and I pulled the door closed behind us. Nala and I lingered in the hallway, both of us just… decompressing. The adrenaline, the fear, the relief—it all finally caught up.

“Well,” I exhaled, rubbing the back of my neck. “Could’ve gone worse.”

Nala let out a tired laugh. “Yeah. Actually…”

She turned toward me fully, arms folding under her chest, eyebrows raised.

“How did you really steal that phone?”

“I’m just that good,” I said with a half-grin.

She narrowed her eyes. “Evan, no. Seriously. How? I honestly thought you hacked it or something. But the damn thing’s ancient—it barely connects to electricity, let alone the internet.”

I looked away, pretending to admire the hallway decor. Anything to avoid her eyes.

Yeah. Definitely wasn’t going to tell her the truth—that I used Time Stop, snuck into Emilia’s apartment, fumbled around like an idiot, hid under the bed while she dom-played with a client, and only found the phone after watching the most awkward show of my life.

I shrugged, letting the silence answer for me.

Nala stared a few more seconds, then walked ahead, shaking her head in disbelief.

“You really have to tell me,” she said again, softer this time, almost amused.

“Maybe one day,” I replied as I hit the elevator button.

“No.” She grabbed my arm and tugged me toward the stairwell. “We’re taking the damn stairs.”

“Nooo,” I dragged the word out dramatically, laughing under my breath.

She smirked, pushing the stairwell door open. “Shut up.”

I followed after her, still grinning. Even exhausted, stressed, and running on caffeine fumes, she managed to make my chest feel lighter than it should.

❤︎‬‪‪❤︎‬‪‪❤︎

Five o’clock hit, and I was slumped behind my desk like a corpse pretending to work. The storm outside was a full-on apocalypse—snow falling sideways, thick enough that I couldn’t even make out the buildings across the street. Not a single person outside. Just white. White everywhere.

I let my gaze drift left, past the blurred glass, into Nala’s office. She was still buried in a folder, flipping pages. Marcus Hale stood beside her desk, waving his hands around while talking—clearly pissed about something, which wasn’t new.

Footsteps approached. I turned and spotted Amelia walking up.

“Hey,” I said. “Anything new from the mole?”

“No idea,” she replied, rubbing her arms. “I’m here because Ms. Nolin called me. Thank God I was outside on a break when the mole showed up. If I’d been inside the building…” She sighed. “I’d definitely be on the suspect list.”

“Mm,” I muttered. “Yeah. Timing saved you.”

Amelia nodded, brushing a few snowflakes off her hair. “I still can’t believe you chased him. I would’ve let him go. Not worth getting stabbed.”

“Yeah,” I smirked. “Adrenaline hit. Brain went on vacation.”

Inside Nala’s office, Marcus finished whatever rant he was on and left. Nala gestured Amelia over, and she excused herself.

“See you,” she said.

She walked away, and I couldn’t help glancing at her ass. Pencil skirt, tight, round, full—way too distracting for a place with this much corporate drama.

Before I could enjoy the view too long, Marcus walked right into my peripheral vision. He shot me a look like I personally caused the storm, then trudged toward my desk.

“You should talk to her and get Adam fired,” Marcus snapped. “We can’t afford mistakes. And Adam is one big fucking mistake.”

“He was alone because Jenkins was sick,” I said. “Otherwise Jenkins would’ve been in the room too, watching the cameras.”

Marcus shook his head, muttered under his breath, and stormed off again.

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