When Her "Death" Couldn't Break Him (Cecilia and Nathaniel)

"I heard the same from Sven. Her name is Denise. Let's hope she can keep Magnus on this new path."

Cecilia's unease had settled in long before dawn. What truly kept her awake was the thought that Magnus might hurt Denise again.

That gentle, scar-scarred woman had already suffered enough. Cecilia would not allow fresh wounds to be carved where old ones had barely healed.

"Of course, Boss. I'll take care of it," Charlotte said, placing a steaming mug of coffee into Cecilia's waiting hands. The rich aroma drifted upward, wrapping the room in the faint comfort of roasted beans and quiet loyalty.

"Thank you," Cecilia replied, her voice low but sincere. The cup trembled the slightest bit between her fingers before she raised it for a careful sip.

Meanwhile, Magnus hurried back through the hospital's revolving doors, a plastic bag of takeout swinging against his thigh.

Inside the ward, Denise tried to rise. A burst of dizziness painted her vision black, and her knees buckled.

Magnus dropped the food and lunged, catching her before she collapsed, his arms wrapping around her fragile frame with desperate speed.

"Why did you get out of bed so suddenly? Were you trying to reach the restroom?" Magnus asked, words tumbling out faster than his breath. Concern sharpened every syllable.

As Denise's sight cleared, she realized she was pressed against Magnus' chest. Heat rushed to her cheeks, turning them the color of pale roses at first bloom.

"I just wanted to walk a little," she murmured, barely above a whisper.

With quiet determination, she braced a hand on the mattress edge and slipped from his arms, forcing a polite distance between them.

you've been lying down too long. If you must move, someone needs to steady you. First, eat something. Your blood sugar will crash if you

gather the abandoned

notice the spilled soup spreading across the tiles like

what a waste," he sighed, shaking his head. "At least a

the rolling tray table and nudged

Denise watched in silence.

her side of the tray, keeping for himself nothing but a single serving of

soft call cut through

confusion

The question fell from her lips with the honest weight of someone who had never expected

a rich and spoiled brat

he could possibly want, no power, no

her face. For the first time in his gilded life, he had no

why he treated Denise so kindly, his actions

always bent toward him. Never once had he bent

The single syllable cracked, then drifted away, unfinished, into the sterile hum of

had barely

air like a

had once taken

debt was only a fragment of the truth, yet the words tangled