CHAPTER 232: YOUR TEARS ARE BECOMING MY WEAKNESS

"I wonder what makes you think I’m pretending, Kathrine."

Daniel paused, a low chuckle rumbling from his chest—dark, humorless. His eyes, however, never missed the anger burning in hers.

Now he understood where her disdain came from and why she doubted every move he made.

"But I suppose," he continued quietly, "this isn’t the moment for me to convince you. Believe what you want. Just know this—when it comes to Anna, I don’t pretend. My concerns are real."

Anna was the only person he would bend his entire world for. The rest of them? He wasn’t sure he owed them anything. Even if he tried to, he couldn’t deny the distance he kept... or the truths he didn’t fully confront.

Kathrine’s jaw clenched so tightly it trembled.

"Just make sure it’s not you behind this, Daniel," she snapped. "Because if it is... I promise you, no one—not even my own family—will stop me from exposing you."

Her voice carried a razor edge. She wasn’t bluffing. She was done being subtle.

Her family had been attacked one after another. First her, now her mother lying unconscious. And she didn’t have the patience to tiptoe around anyone—not Daniel, not his power, not the image everyone else seemed to admire.

They might see him as a savior. Anna might trust him or try to. But Kathrine? She knew better. He was not someone they could ever trust—not in this lifetime.

***

By the time Anna returned after giving blood, she found only her father outside the emergency room. Kathrine and Daniel were nowhere in sight.

Until they walked in together.

Anna paused mid-step.

Her brows arched slightly, but the moment her gaze met Daniel’s, something sharp and foreign stirred inside her chest. An emotion she instantly tried to bury—but its sting lingered.

She told herself she was fine seeing them together.

She wasn’t.

Not even close.

Her past had molded insecurities deep into her bones, whispering doubts she hated acknowledging. No matter how often she reminded herself that Daniel and Kathrine disliked each other, that they would never cross that line... the shadows of her past kept resurfacing.

Even now, watching them walk side by side, her mind couldn’t help but wonder—

What were they talking about?

Why did it bother her?

Why did seeing him near another woman—even her own sister—twist something inside her?

She forced her expression to remain neutral, but inside, she was anything but jealous.

As Anna struggled to steady the storm of thoughts in her mind, the door to the emergency room finally opened. The doctor stepped out, drawing everyone’s attention instantly.

Anna’s breath hitched. Her feet moved before her mind could catch up, carrying her straight toward him.

"Mrs. Bennett is out of danger," the doctor announced. "The attack was severe. She lost a significant amount of blood, but thankfully, we managed to stabilize her in time."

A collective breath of relief swept through the hallway.

Hugo, who rarely displayed emotion, blinked rapidly as his eyes glistened. It startled Anna for a moment—her father was not a man who cried. But tonight, even he couldn’t mask the terror he had felt.

"For now," the doctor continued, "we’ll keep her under observation before transferring her to a room."

They all nodded as he walked away.

Kathrine turned to Anna, her tone softer than before. "I think you should head home. You must be exhausted. I’ll stay here with Mom."

She could clearly see the exhaustion etched all over Anna’s face. Knowing she had been shooting since morning, Kathrine thought giving her some time to rest would be better.

"You too, Dad," she added gently. "I think both of you should head home. I’ll stay here with Mom."

Anna hesitated, worry flickering across her eyes. But when she caught Daniel’s steady gaze—calm, reassuring—she finally exhaled and nodded.

"Call me the moment she wakes up," Anna said quietly.

"I will," Kathrine assured her.

With that, they left the hospital.

***

As Anna stepped outside, she noticed the premises were calm—no reporters, no cameras, no chaos. Everything was cleared out.

A realization washed over her.

She turned slightly, watching her husband as he helped her into the car. Daniel had made sure the area was safe before she stepped out—she was certain of it now.

Betty and Kevin had already been sent home; Anna insisted on it once she realized how exhausted they were too. Now, sitting in the backseat, she leaned her head against the headrest and finally let her eyes close.

But her mind wasn’t ready to rest.

"Did you see the therapist?" she asked suddenly, her soft voice slicing through the quiet car.

Daniel, who had been staring out the window, stiffened.

Anna turned her head, her gaze sharp despite her fatigue. He had lied earlier—she knew the appointment wasn’t for Henry. It was for him.

This time, Daniel didn’t try to hide behind excuses. He could see it in her eyes—she wouldn’t buy another lie.

"I didn’t," he admitted, watching her face carefully.

Anna held his gaze for a long moment before looking away and closing her eyes once more.

Silence blanketed the car after that—a heavy, thoughtful silence neither of them tried to break.

By the time they reached home, Anna was fast asleep.

Daniel didn’t linger outside for even a second. He scooped Anna into his arms and carried her inside the house, her head resting against his chest as she slept on, unaware.

In the dim light of their bedroom, he gently lowered her onto the bed and pulled the duvet over her. He took a moment to smooth the strands of hair from her face, his fingers lingering longer than necessary.

His eyes never left her.

The image of her breaking down at the hospital—clutching him, crying for her mother—still clung to him like a shadow. That raw vulnerability, that fear in her eyes... it rattled something inside him he wasn’t prepared to face.

He sat on the edge of the bed, studying her peaceful sleeping face.

"Your tears..." he murmured, voice low, almost a whisper meant only for her, "are becoming my weakness, wifey."

His jaw tightened as memories of the evening replayed in his mind.

"What am I supposed to do," he continued, brushing his thumb lightly across her cheek, "if you break for them like that? For a family that doesn’t deserve you... or anyone."

Bitterness flickered in his eyes, but it softened the moment he looked at her again.

Somewhere between anger and helplessness, he realized—

He would rather not see her cry again. This was not something he wanted to witness again. Not for anyone.

He wouldn’t do it if he had the choice.