Shane Prescott flicked his wrist, the throwing knife vanishing back into his sleeve.

He lowered his voice. "Are you hurt?"

"I'm fine." Sophia Laurent glanced at the sleeping Ethan Sullivan. "Let's talk downstairs."

They tiptoed to the living room.

As the lights flickered on, Shane's gaze immediately scanned Sophia's neck.

Only when he confirmed there were no wounds did the tension in his shoulders ease.

Sophia placed the itching powder on the coffee table. "How long have you been staying here, Shane?"

"A week." His eyes remained fixed on the glass vial. "Ethan didn't mention you were coming."

"That's just like him." Sophia gave a bitter smile. "He never tells me when he's sick."

Shane, usually reticent, surprised her with his response. "The medication dulls his emotions. Don't overthink it—his feelings for you haven't changed."

Sophia nodded. "I know."

"I'm in the guest room. Call me if you need anything."

"Thanks, Shane."

Back in the bedroom, Sophia had barely lain down when an arm pulled her close.

"You're awake?" she whispered.

Ethan's lips brushed her hand—cold and dry.

"I thought you'd left," he murmured, voice thick.

Sophia chuckled softly. "Why would I leave?"

She leaned in for a kiss, but he turned away.

"Could make you sick." He put distance between them. "Get another blanket."

Her heart ached, but she obeyed.

In the darkness, she hugged him through the layers.

Moonlight traced his gaunt silhouette, making her eyes burn.

Dawn's peace shattered with Audrey Sullivan's call.

"Sophia, where are you?" The probing tone sharpened. "Is something wrong with Ethan?"

Before Sophia could respond, Ethan took the phone.

"I'm fine, Mother." His voice was flat, almost icy.

Audrey's pitch rose. "You think I can't tell? Wait right there!"

Forty minutes later, she stormed into the villa, dust clinging to her clothes.

She seized her son in a trembling embrace. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Ethan stood rigid, gaze empty.

Sophia hurried to explain. "He didn't want to worry you."

"But he'd tell Victor?" Audrey released him, eyes red-rimmed.

Ethan turned toward the stairs, his retreating figure achingly alone.

Audrey watched him go, tears finally falling.

"When he was four... kidnapped..." She choked. "Everyone kept it from me. That little boy—he comforted me during the ransom call..."

Sophia handed her a tissue, her own chest tight.

"The kidnappers?" she asked softly.

"Dead." Audrey wiped her cheeks. "Car accident."

Sophia's brow furrowed—the timing seemed far too convenient.