CHAPTER 245: IS HE THE ONE WHO CAME AFTER YOU?

Meanwhile, a suffocating silence hung inside the hospital ward.

Hugo stood beside the bed, his tall frame casting a long shadow across the floor as he glared at his wife—his gaze sharp enough to pierce flesh.

"When," he asked, voice low and freezing, "were you planning to tell me that Collin has been released?"

Roseline pursed her lips, her fingers twisting in the blanket as she looked away.

Hugo’s jaw clenched.

If he hadn’t personally confirmed the sudden activity on the account—the money Roseline had secretly saved under Collin’s name finally being used—he would never have known her ex-husband was out. Back in their world. Back in their lives.

"Are you going to speak," Hugo snapped, voice rising a notch, "or did they operate on your tongue too?"

Roseline flinched at the sharpness in his tone, her breath hitching. The fear in her eyes did nothing to soften Hugo’s expression. He was angry—furious—and beneath that anger was something worse:

Terrified.

"Tell me," Hugo demanded, stepping closer, "is he the one who came after you?"

He couldn’t pretend anymore. Not after witnessing her lying in a pool of blood. Not after hearing the doctors say she almost died.

Collin’s release. The attack. Her silence. Everything pointed to him because predators like Collin didn’t change. Not in prison. Not in years. Not ever.

"N-No," Roseline whispered.

The answer hit Hugo like a punch.

"No?" He stared at her, incredulous. "How is that possible? Look at what happened to you, Roseline! You almost died!"

But when she shook her head again, insisting on her answer, something uneasy twisted in him.

"It wasn’t him," she said, tears spilling down her cheeks. "I... I would’ve known, Hugo. I would’ve known."

Her voice broke—and then so did her composure.

She cried harder, bringing a hand to her abdomen just as a sharp pain shot through her healing wound.

"Ah!" she gasped, wincing.

Hugo’s anger evaporated instantly. He hurried to her side, steadying her shoulders.

"Roseline," his voice softened with panic, "are you alright?"

She nodded weakly as the pain subsided. Hugo helped her recline carefully, adjusting the pillows behind her.

For a long moment, she was silent, breathing through the remnants of discomfort. Then she spoke—softly, regret dripping from every word.

"I know I should’ve told you about Collin’s release... and about the transaction from the old card." Her eyes lifted to his. "You’re right. I hid it from you." She gently squeezed his hand where their fingers intertwined. "But trust me, Hugo... this wasn’t him."

Her voice trembled.

"If it were him, I—I would’ve felt it. He’s a monster, yes. But not... like this."

Her eyes pleaded. Begged.

Hugo stared at her—hurt, betrayed, and terrified all at once. Because if it wasn’t Collin... Then who was it.

Suddenly the door swung open.

Kathrine stepped inside—and froze.

"Oh... should I just knock?" she asked dryly, eyebrows raised as she took in the sight of her parents. Hugo still close to Roseline, their hands awkwardly pulling apart, the air between them thick with something she couldn’t quite name.

Kathrine had slowly learned to accept Hugo’s protective behavior toward Roseline... but seeing them this close still felt strange.

Not sweet.Not romantic.Just... loaded.

"Is everything alright?" she asked, watching Hugo release Roseline’s hand like he’d been caught doing something questionable.

Both of them exchanged a fleeting, awkward look before nodding almost in unison.

"Everything is fine," Hugo said quickly.

Kathrine glanced at Roseline—who immediately looked away, as if avoiding her daughter’s gaze would make her invisible. But Kathrine stepped forward anyway, stopping right before the bed.

"We’ve found the culprit," she announced.

Roseline’s eyes widened so violently it was almost painful to watch.

Hugo stiffened, though he tried to hide it.

"Who is it?" he asked, keeping his voice steady, but the tension coiled inside him like a tight wire.

Roseline, however, held her breath. Her fingers clutched the bedsheet, knuckles whitening as she tried to mask her reaction.

She hadn’t told Hugo about Collin reaching out nor did she hadn’t told him about the threats.

She thought Kathrine had deleted the evidence from her phone and kept her secret safe.

She had finally breathed a sigh of relief thinking the danger of Hugo discovering Collin’s involvement was over.

So how—?

Her mind ran in frantic circles.

What did the police find? Who did they blame? Had Collin set something up?

Roseline didn’t know about the knife dropped at the scene—its fingerprints, the planted blood, the manufactured evidence.

So when Kathrine’s eyes met hers now—steady, unreadable—Roseline felt her heartbeat spike, anxiety clamping around her chest like a vise.

Her stomach twisted painfully.

’No... no, this isn’t happening...’

Kathrine exhaled and said the name.

"Kira," Kathrine said flatly, "the maid who once worked for Daniel Clafford."

Hugo’s expression turned pitch-dark while Roseline’s lips parted, her breath catching in disbelief.

Kira.

Of all names—of all possibilities that one made her stomach twist in dread.

Kathrine continued, unaware of the storm building in both her parents.

"The police matched her fingerprints from a knife left at the scene. They’re certain it’s her. Now they’re trying to track her down."

Hugo frowned deeply, confusion slicing across his features.

A maid from the Clafford estate? Why would someone connected to Daniel target Roseline of all people?

Nothing about it felt coherent nor aligned.

If anything, it felt deliberate—a carefully placed lie meant to distract.

But he said nothing, choosing instead to listen.

Kathrine gave a helpless shrug. "The cops said she’s missing. Disappeared the same night as the attack."

Hugo exhaled sharply, trying to piece things together.

Something was wrong. Very wrong. This didn’t feel like the motive of a rogue maid.

And Roseline sat frozen, her shock deeper than anything Kathrine or Hugo could comprehend.

Because she knew—she knew the girl wasn’t acting alone. Collin was handling her.

***

Night had fallen deep and silent when Anna suddenly jolted awake.Her first instinct was to look beside her—and relief warmed her chest when she saw Daniel fast asleep, his breathing slow and even.

She reached out and gently checked his forehead.The fever was gone.Finally.

But the sedatives the doctor gave him were still working their magic, pulling him into a sleep so heavy he probably wouldn’t wake even if the ceiling collapsed.

"How can he sleep so soundly when I’m wide awake?" Anna muttered, staring at his peaceful face in disbelief. A strong, very petty urge to shake him awake bubbled inside her.

But then she remembered the doctor’s warning—strict rest, no stress, no disturbances.

"Luckily for you, Daniel," she whispered, "the doctor’s orders saved you. Otherwise I would’ve kept you awake with me all night."

Not that she would actually do it.Waking him meant facing the shameless, clingy beast again—the one on a leash only because of his fever.

She sighed and slowly climbed out of the bed.

Sitting at the edge, her hands resting on either side, she closed her eyes briefly.

Sleep had abandoned her.And her mind immediately drifted back to the same worries.Kira.Mariam.Collin.The attack.The threats disguised as clues.

Talking to Daniel earlier had helped ease the weight... but now he was asleep, and she was alone in the darkness again.

Her thoughts spiraled.

"Tsk, I shouldn’t think too much," she murmured, trying—and failing—to reassure herself. "The cops will find Kira soon."

With a sigh, she stood and reached for the empty water jug on the bedside table.

But just as she turned to leave—

Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.

Daniel’s phone lit up sharply in the darkness, vibrating against the wooden surface.

Anna froze.

Her eyes darted toward the screen.

More buzzing.

Her brows knitted together as message after message flashed across the screen—one notification stacking over another like a warning.

Someone was texting Daniel. Someone who clearly didn’t care about the time. Someone who sounded urgent.

Anna’s heart skipped. In the quiet, the continuous buzzing felt ominous—unsettling. And then the screen flashed again. This time, the sender’s name was visible making her frown deeply.

***

The next morning, Daniel woke feeling strangely refreshed.

No fever. No heaviness behind his eyes. No body aches tugging at his muscles. Just warmth and an unusual lightness in his chest.

He stretched lazily, blinking away the sleep as his gaze landed on the person responsible for his miraculous recovery.

Anna.

Curled peacefully under the duvet, her hair scattered over the pillow, her breathing soft and even—completely unaware of the turmoil she caused in his chest.

My wife.

Daniel let out a small, helpless smile.

He never thought he’d be capable of liking someone so deeply. He’d lived too long behind walls, behind defenses, behind his aloof persona. But then Anna walked straight into his life with that defiance, that bold tongue, that reckless courage—and suddenly everything about him had flipped.

Completely. Irreversibly.

He slid closer to her, unable to resist.

"Wifey," he whispered, lowering his lips to her ear. "Wake up."

He brushed a strand of hair away from her face, admiring her peaceful expression.

Normally he enjoyed watching her sleep—she looked softer, sweeter, almost innocent.

But today, he wanted her awake.

He wanted her voice. Her scolding. Her complaining. Her warmth.

Anna stirred, frowning faintly as if even dreaming she could sense him bothering her. Slowly, her eyes fluttered open—half-glazed, sleepy, adorably annoyed.

She blinked at him. And then realization hit.

Daniel was awake, completely healed. And apparently waking her up because he was bored.

Anna groaned softly and dragged the blanket over her head.

"Daniel, let me sleep," she said, her tone irritated, making Daniel smile.

Anna believed Daniel had finally heard her and would no longer bother her, but she was mistaken.

"..."