CHAPTER 30: CHAPTER THIRTY

Chapter Thirty

Malachi’s POV

My phone rang at seven in the morning. Layla’s name flashed on the screen.

I considered ignoring it. Nothing good ever came from conversations with my mother. But curiosity won out.

"What do you want, Layla?"

"Is that any way to greet family?" Her voice dripped with false sweetness. "I’m just calling to check on you. Make sure you’re settling in well at Dark City."

"I’m fine. Was that all?"

"Actually, I wanted to give you some advice. About that girl."

My jaw tightened. "Alicia."

"Yes. Her." Layla’s tone shifted, became colder. "Be careful around her, Malachi. She’s not what she seems."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning she’s manipulative. Calculating. She wormed her way into your grandfather’s good graces, and now she’s probably doing the same to you. Don’t let her fool you with that innocent act."

I almost laughed.

"Thank you for the concern," I said flatly. "But I can handle myself."

"I’m just trying to protect you—"

"Goodbye."

I ended the call and tossed the phone on the bed. Be careful around Alicia. As if she were the dangerous one. As if she hadn’t spent two years being abused by Layla’s precious son.

The irony was thick enough to choke on.

I dressed and went to collect Alicia for breakfast. When she opened the door, I knew immediately something was wrong. The concealer couldn’t hide the exhaustion in her eyes. The way she held herself too carefully, like she might shatter.

"Are you okay?" I asked.

"Fine. Just tired."

A lie. But I didn’t push. Not yet.

She barely touched her food, just drank coffee and stared at nothing. I watched her. The way her hands trembled slightly. The distant look in her eyes.

Something had happened. Something more than just nerves about being back in Dark City.

But what?

The first meeting went smoothly enough. Investors from three different countries, all interested in Blackwood Enterprises’ expansion into their markets. I presented our five-year plan while Alicia managed the documents and took notes.

She was professional. No one would know she was barely holding herself together.

Except me. I always noticed.

"Mr. Blackwood, these projections are impressive," said Mr. Tanaka, a Japanese investor. "But what guarantees do we have about supply chain stability?"

"Our contracts with multiple suppliers across different regions minimize risk," I explained. "Even if one source fails, we have backups."

"And your security protocols?" This from Mrs. Chen, representing a Singaporean conglomerate. "We’ve heard rumors of... complications with rival organizations."

She meant the Zhao family. Of course she did. Everyone in this room knew about the shadow business beneath the legitimate one.

"Our security is top-tier," I said smoothly. "Any complications are handled swiftly and discreetly. Our investors’ interests are always protected."

"I notice your brother isn’t present," Mr. Tanaka observed. "Is there concern about leadership continuity?"

"My brother is recovering from an accident. I’m overseeing operations during his absence. Our grandfather has full confidence in this arrangement."

The meeting continued for another hour. Questions. Answers. The careful dance of business negotiation.

Alicia passed me documents exactly when I needed them. Pulled up presentations on cue. The perfect assistant.

But I could see her fading. The color draining from her face. The way she gripped her pen too tightly.

The second meeting was with local business leaders. Networking. Relationship building. The boring but necessary part of maintaining power in Dark City.

"Malachi Blackwood," a man named Richard Zhao approached. No relation to the crime family, but the name still made me tense. "I’ve heard impressive things about your work in the region."

"Thank you. We aim to maintain strong partnerships."

"And this is?" He gestured to Alicia.

"My executive assistant, Mrs. Blackwood."

"Blackwood? Related?"

"My brother’s wife."

Something flickered in Richard’s expression. Interest. Calculation. I stepped slightly closer to Alicia, a subtle claim of territory.

"Pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Blackwood," he said.

She smiled politely. "Likewise."

We moved through the room. Handshakes. Small talk. The performance of legitimate business while everyone present knew half of us had blood on our hands.

By the third meeting, I could see Alicia was struggling. She kept blinking too much. Swaying slightly when she stood.

"Are you alright?" I whispered during a break.

"Fine. Just need some water."

I got her water. Made her sit. Watched her like a hawk.

The meeting reconvened. We were discussing distribution networks when I heard a sound.

A pen hitting the floor.

I turned. Alicia was swaying in her chair, her face paper-white.

"Mrs. Blackwood?"

She tried to stand. Her legs buckled.

I moved without thinking. Caught her before she hit the ground. Her weight was nothing in my arms. Too light. Too fragile.

"Alicia!"

Her eyes fluttered closed. Her head lolled against my chest.

"Someone call an ambulance," I barked.

"No need," one of the executives said. "Memorial Hospital is two blocks away. You could drive her there faster."

I was already moving. Carried her out of the conference room, through the lobby, ignoring the stares. Maurice appeared from nowhere.

"Sir, what—"

"Get the car. Now."

He ran. Thirty seconds later, we were pulling up to the entrance. He jumped out and opened the back door. I slid in, still holding Alicia.

"Drive."

The hospital was close. Three minutes. Maurice pulled up to the emergency entrance and I carried her inside.

"I need help! She collapsed!"

Nurses rushed over with a wheelchair. They tried to take her from me, but I couldn’t let go. Couldn’t release her.

"Sir, we need to examine her."

Reluctantly, I set her in the wheelchair. Watched them rush her through double doors. Watched those doors swing shut, separating us.

I stood there. Alone in the waiting room. My hands still warm from holding her.

A nurse approached with a clipboard. "Are you family?"

"Yes." The lie came easily. "I’m her brother-in-law."

"We’ll need some information..."

I answered her questions mechanically. Name. Age. Insurance. Medical history I didn’t actually know.

Then more waiting. Twenty minutes that felt like hours.

Finally, a doctor emerged. Young. Tired-looking. "Mr. Blackwood?"

"How is she?"

"She’s stable. It appears to be exhaustion and dehydration. Possibly stress-induced. When did she last sleep properly?"

I realized I didn’t know. "She said she didn’t sleep well last night."

"Her vitals suggest it’s been longer than that. Combined with inadequate food and water intake..." He shook his head. "Her body simply shut down. She needs rest. Real rest."

"Can I see her?"

"She’s still unconscious, but yes. Room 247."

I took the stairs two at a time. Found her room. Pushed open the door.

She looked so small in that hospital bed. IV in her arm. Monitors beeping steadily. Her face peaceful in a way it never was when she was awake.

I pulled a chair close and sat. Took her hand in mine. Her fingers were cold.

What had driven her to this? What demons was she fighting that I couldn’t see?

I thought I knew her. Knew her pain. Her strength. But there were pieces missing. Gaps in the story she’d never filled in.

Dark City meant something to her. Something terrible. And I’d brought her here without understanding why.

Stupid. Selfish. I’d been so focused on keeping her close, on having her to myself, that I’d ignored the warning signs.

Her eyes opened slowly. Confusion first, then panic as she registered where she was.

"Hey, you’re okay. You’re safe."

She looked around frantically. At the walls. The windows. The medical equipment.

"What happened?" Her voice was hoarse.

"You fainted. During the meeting. I brought you to the hospital."

"I want to leave."

She started pulling at the IV. I caught her hands.

"Alicia, stop. The doctor said you’re dehydrated and exhausted. You need to rest."

"I’m fine. I just need to go back to the hotel."

"You’re not fine. You passed out in the middle of a meeting."

The doctor came in then and tried to reason with her. But she was adamant. Desperate, even. She wanted out of this hospital like it was a prison.

Eventually, the doctor relented. Discharge papers. Instructions. Medications.

In the car, she pressed her forehead against the window. Silent tears slid down her cheeks.

I didn’t ask. Didn’t push. Just drove her back to the hotel and walked her to her room.

"Get into bed. I’ll be back in an hour with food."

She didn’t argue. Just nodded and closed the door.

I stood there for a moment, my hand on the doorframe. Wanting to go back in. To demand answers. To fix whatever was breaking her.

But I couldn’t force her. Could only wait until she was ready to tell me.

I went to my own room and made calls. Rescheduled all the meetings. Sent apologies to the investors. Handled the fallout.

Then I ordered food from the hotel restaurant. Soup. Bread. Easy things she could stomach.

An hour later, I knocked on her door. She’d been crying. I could see the evidence on her face. But I pretended not to notice.

Made her eat. Made her take her medication. Watched until she finished.

"Sleep," I told her. "I’ll check on you later."

She didn’t argue. Just curled up under the blankets like a child seeking safety.

I left her there and went downstairs. Dante was waiting in the bar.

"Heard there was some excitement," he said.

"She fainted. Exhaustion."

"Is she okay?"

"Physically, yes. But something’s wrong. Something she won’t talk about."

"Give her time."

"Time isn’t something we have a lot of."

A familiar voice interrupted. "Malachi? Oh my God, it is you!"

I turned. Pearl stood there, dressed in expensive clothes, her face carefully made up. Dante’s sister. The woman who’d had a crush on me for years.

"Pearl," I said flatly.

"I’m here for a modeling gig! Can you believe it? Dark City Fashion Week. Isn’t it amazing that we’re all here at the same time?"

"Amazing," I echoed without enthusiasm.

Dante shot me an apologetic look. "She insisted on meeting us for drinks."

"I heard you’re here for some big business conference," Pearl continued, oblivious to my lack of interest. "How exciting! We should all have dinner together. Catch up properly."

"I’m busy."

"Oh, come on. You can spare one evening. For old times’ sake."

"Pearl—"

"He said he’s busy," Dante interrupted. "Let it go."

She pouted but finally backed off. "Fine. But call me if you change your mind."

She left in a hurry. I turned to Dante.

"Why did you bring her?"

"I didn’t. She found out I was here and invited herself along. You know how she is."

I did. Persistent. Relentless. Everything I didn’t want right now.

"Any news on Zhao Wei?" I asked, changing the subject.

"He met with three more people today. Building his coalition. Whatever he’s planning, it’s big."

"Keep watching. I want to know the moment he makes a move."

We talked strategy for another hour. Plans and contingencies. But my mind kept drifting upstairs. To Alicia. To whatever pain she was carrying alone.

When I finally went back to check on her, her room was dark. She was asleep, but not peacefully. Even in sleep, her face was troubled.

I stood in the doorway watching her. This woman who’d somehow become the center of everything. My obsession. My weakness.

Tomorrow, I’d get answers. Tomorrow, I’d find out what haunted her in this city.

And then I’d destroy it.

Whatever it was. Whoever it was.

Nothing would hurt her again.

Not while I was here to stop it.