Chapter 301

Claude straightened in the hospital bed, his skin still tinged with the pallor from the earlier treatment, but he was much better.

The IV line dripped steadily, sending a slow, cold trickle of medication into his arm.

His mind drifted back, unbidden, to what had happened just a few hours ago.

At that time, Hannah had left the ward for a pharmacy run for his sake, her phone abandoned on the nightstand.

Suddenly, her phone had buzzed to life. The caller ID had flashed: Vincent.

A predatory glimmer had sparked in Claude's eyes as a razor-edged scheme unfurled in his mind. Without a hint of hesitation, he snatched up his own phone and navigated to a hidden, encrypted folder, his fingers moving with slick familiarity.

In moments, he had unearthed a certain audio file-a recording captured by accident ages ago, muffled and murky,but the suggestive voices were unmistakable. It was exactly the weapon he needed.

Then, Hannah's phone had vibrated with another incoming call from Vincent.

Claude had drawn a steadying breath and then dropped his voice to a lazy, teasing rasp, deliberately lacing each word with the hazy afterglow of sex.

He'd tapped play on the old audio file, angling both phones before the call connected so the recorded soundtrack would bleed perfectly into the line.

Then, bringing Hannah's device to his lips, he'd drawled, his voice taunting, "Mr. Jones? Heard enough?"

Vincent's furious outburst had erupted from the speaker-each syllable a jolt of satisfaction to Claude.

With a deep, almost wild chuckle bubbling in his chest, Claude pulled himself back from the memory.

Still restless, Claude snatched up the remote and flicked on the television, letting the chaos of breaking city news fill the sterile hospital room.

"Here's the freshest scoop in the world of business and corporate news. Tonight, all luxury hotels and resorts under the Jones Group umbrella have closed their doors with no warning, citing 'urgent investigations into serious safety hazards.' Entire hotels cleared out in minutes. Guests were shoved onto the curb in the middle of the night. High-stakes corporate events and million-dollar events-cancelled,just like that. The city's hospitality sector has plunged into chaos. Economists are already calling the impact catastrophic."

The headline splashed across the screen in bold, accusatory letters. "Jones Group's Hotel Operations Halt Nationwide-Mystery at the Core."

The anchor leaned in, her tone edged with intrigue. "Jones Group has yet to issue any official explanation.According to anonymous staffers, the shutdown order came straight from the very top. Some market analysts are whispering about a brutal internal power struggle. Others insist it's the result of a confidential investigation. For now, the truth is anyone's guess. We'll bring you updates as this story unfolds."

Claude didn't blink. The glow of the TV flickered in his eyes as an uncontrollably smug smile tugged at his lips. A cruel grin spread across his lips, its darkness steeped in the thrill of revenge and the satisfaction of striking true. Vincent, that maniac. He never imagined Vincent would unravel so completely, all for the sake of tracking down Hannah.

How unfortunate... His tongue flicked across his cracked lips, and a flash of annoyance crept into his gaze.lf only he could have seen Vincent's expression with his own eyes.

Just then, the hospital room door swung open, and Hannah stepped inside, her arms cradling a thermal container that steamed faintly with the promise of warm food and soup.

She set it down gently on the table and glanced over at Claude, her eyes brimming with concern."Are you feeling any better?" she asked, her voice soft as she nudged the container closer.

Claude still looked pale, but he managed a thin smile. "I'm okay now."

"Here. Have a little something to eat," she urged, pressing the container into his hands.

He took it and drank a few mouthfuls of the soup before managing a quiet, grateful smile."|′warm...can't remember the last time I've felt this kind of warmth."

Hannah froze, quietly watching him.

He turned away, fixing his gaze on the window, his voice dropping to a vulnerable murmur. "I can't stand hospitals. Ever since the Hobbes family took me back in, any time illness struck, it had always been the housekeeper or staff who hovered at my bedside. My parents? They brushed it off as weakness, too caught up in their grand affairs to take care of me. I had to battle through it all on my own."

A bitter edge crept into his words. "I learned early on that I couldn't let them down, and that if I wanted to prove to be worthy of the Hobbes name, I had to excel at everything. I wasn't allowed to show pain or admit l was tired. Being sick just meant wasting time."

His hands fidgeted with the edge of the blanket as he went on, quieter, almost to himself. "If my stomach hurt so badly that I couldn't sleep, I'd just swallow another round of painkillers. Then, I'd get up the next morning, suit perfectly pressed, and drag myself to meetings and parties. I drank, I struck business deal,and I kept moving like nothing could touch me-like I was built for it."

He exhaled. "In the Hobbes family, appearances mattered more than anything. No matter how much pain you were in, you had to keep smiling, pretending nothing was wrong."

Hannah's mind drifted to the doctor's earlier warning-that Claude had come dangerously close to a gastric perforation. The weight of it made her. voice gentler, more serious."So that's how your condition gets this bad?"

Logically speaking, those blessed with a wealthy background wouldn't have a body this broken down.

"Yeah." Claude let out a hollow laugh, the sound trailing off as fatigue crept into his features.

He raised his eyes to hers, searching. "Could you bring me home?"

Hannah hesitated, her,hand tightening around the thermal container. "You mean Sterling Heights? It's too late-my parents have already gone to bed."

Claude shook his head, his gaze steady. "Not your place. Mine." For just a moment, all the bravado slipped away. Something achingly fragile surfaced in his eyes-a desperate, wordless plea.