Chapter 212

Vincent didn't hesitate. "It's mne," he admitted, his voice low but steady. He'd meant to stay in the shadows,letting Hannah recover in peace, but she'd caught on faster than he'd planned.

Hannah's posture stiffened, every muscle tense. "Why are you here?" she demanded, bracing herself for whatever explanation he might spin.

Sidestepping her question, Vincent scanned the floor, spotted shards of broken glass, and immediately stepped closer. Without warning, he swept her off her feet, his arms circling her securely.

The abrupt lift sent Hannah's pulse racing. She clung instinctively to his neck, voice sharp with panic."Vincent, what on earth are you doing?"

He caught the slight tremor in her grip, and for an instant, the rigid lines of his face softened. Cradling her,he carried her straight into the adjacent sunroom and set her down with tenderness, guiding her gently into a chair.

Settling in, Hannah couldn't shake off the unease she felt from the way Vincent moved through the place,like he was familiar with the layout. A thought flickered through her mind. Doubt crept into her mind like a shadow. She kept her voice cautious, every word measured. "When can I go back?"

Vincent paused, weighing his words before finally answering, "You can leave when you've fully recovered."

Hannah's chest tightened. Her tone shot up, sharp and raw. "So it was you who arranged all this."

Vincent remembered the doctor's warning-staying emotionally steady was crucial during this recovery phase. He gentled his tone,careful not to agitate her. "Take it easy. You're safe here. Everything in this place was arranged for your treatment."

Hannah rose from her chair, defiance blazing in her posture. "I want to leave right now!"

Every nerve in her body bristled at being managed like this. She hated being placed in situations without her knowledge or consent. He could've just talked to her. Vincent kept his words measured, his face unreadable. "The best specialists are here-your ophthalmologist, your therapist, round-the-clock staff. You'll get everything you need."

His tone stayed even as he added, "After you recover, you're free to walk out whenever you want."

"You... You're holding me here against my wil!!" Hannah spat, her breath coming fast, anger crackling in every word.

Vincent hesitated, knowing there was no easy fix for her resentment. She needed time to accept this. "You should get some rest," he said quietly.

He made his way to the door. Hannah's voice cut through the silence, brittle with displeasure. "You never cared about what I wanted. Not before, not now. You just make all the choices and expect me to follow."

Vincent's gaze fell to the floor. As expected, she hated him for this arrangement. "Believe whatever you like," he muttered.

He lingered at the doorway, eyes tracing her outline, unwilling to leave but unable to stay. At last, he slipped out and closed the door behind him.

For days after, Hannah isolated herself, ignoring anyone who tried to speak to her and tossing aside every cup of medicine left on her bedside table.

Vincent kept his distance, watching her through the cold, flickering feed of the security camera. He'd deliberately vanished from her daily life, hoping a little space might soften her defiance. Instead, she only grew more withdrawn.

With a worried tone, Dr. Claire Morgan, the psychologist, raised a serious concern. "If Ms. Scott stays cooped up in her room much longer, I'm afraid she'll sink into depression."

Without warning, Vincent spun on his heel and headed for the door. "She's my wife," he declared over his shoulder, his tone low and unwavering.

The caregivers and Claire traded uneasy looks.

Vincent marched straight into Hannah's room. Without hesitation, he lifted her and carried her out into the sunroom, settling her carefully onto a lounge chair. "The doctor says you need sunlight," he murmured,tucking a blanket around her.

Hannah remained silent.

He reached for the medicinal brew a caregiver had just delivered. "I know you don't want me here. But you've been refusing your medicine, so I'm going to make sure you take it this time."

Vincent gently blew across the surface of the steaming liquid and then brought a spoonful to her lips.Hannah clamped her mouth shut, refusing to cooperate, her stubbornness unmistakable.

"This will help get rid of the blood clots in your brain," he explained gently, bringing the spoon a little closer,his patience holding even as her resistance remained.

Vincent's eyes turned cold. "There's only so much patience I have," he muttered, his voice flat as stone.

In the next instant, he took a measured sip of the bitter medicine, seized her face in his hand, and pressed his mnouth to hers, forcing her lips apart in one swift motion.

The caregivers nearby instantly averted their gazes.

The sharp,medicinal taste spilled over Hannah's tongue. Startled and furious, she clutched the open collar of his shirt, her fingers curling around the loose fabric."YOU-"

The warmth of the medicine spread through her mouth as his tongue pushed it in, the bitterness mingling with the faint, crisp scent clinging to his collar.

She bit down on his lip, hard enough to draw blood. Metallic warmth mingled with the medicine as it slid down her throat.

Their mouths finally broke apart. Hannah lashed out, swinging for his face, but her palm landed uselessly against his chest. "You bastard!" she growled, breathless.

Vincent seized her flailing hand with a swift, practiced grip, one eyebrow arching in faint amusement. "So you finally speak after all?"

Some part of him was relieved-at least she still had fight left in her. For days, he'd worried she'd gone withdrawn completely and lost the ability to speak.

Hannah scowled, her lips drawn tight as she wiped the bitter taste from her mouth with the back of her hand. "Who told you to use your mouth?"

Vincent's lips curved into a faint smile. "You wouldn't drink it, so I had to take matters into my own hands.Want me to do it again?"

Hannah clamped her lips together, exasperated, and then thrust out a hand. Vincent immediately pressed the bowl into her palm.

She finished the rest in one fierce gulp, grimacing as the bitterness burned down her throat.

Before she could complain, Vincent slipped a piece of candy between her lips. "This will help with the aftertaste," he said in a gentle tone.