Mr. Atlas was informed about Alexander's recovery, and he came to do a proper checkup on him. He commended Sienna for doing a good job in being Alexander's personal physician. After the checkup was complete, Mr. Atlas pulled Sienna to the side and asked her how it had been working there and how she'd been able to cope with the Miller family.
Sienna casually replied, saying that it had been normal over time, and Mr. Atlas sighed thankfully and said he was worried because he knew that Mrs. Miller was a very hot-tempered and biased person. Sienna, however, reassured him that she'd been coping really well by herself here.
After catching up, Mr. Atlas went back to work, and Sienna went back inside and was greeted by a pouting Mrs. Miller. Mrs. Miller stood in front of her, and despite the heels she was wearing, she still stood at Sienna's shoulder. She then told her, "My son is doing fine now, so you'd better stop trying to get close to him. Not that he'd like you anyway." She said, scrutinizing her from head to toe, and continued, "You are not his style. So don't try to seduce him just because he just woke up from his coma."
Sienna scoffed lightly and said, "Ma'am, if you don't like me getting close to your son, would you like to treat him yourself?" Sienna said, while closing the gap between the two of them "You are like a mother to me, and that is why I have been trying to respect you all this while, but if you're trying to stop me from doing my work, I won't allow you to do that, Ma. If you would excuse me now, I would like to go and check on your "son" to see if his vitals are still stable," she added and made a bowing gesture before she turned around and left.
Behind her, Mrs. Miller made a sound and left for her room. Sienna knew Mrs. Miller didn't like her, and she wasn't going to make any attempt to make her like her. She knew she had no obvious flaw and absolutely no reason for Mrs. Miller not to like her and that Mrs. Miller just didn't like her, but she didn't have time to care about that.
On getting to the door of Alexander's room, since he had been moved from the sterilized room, she released the frown that was starting to form on her face. She then entered the room while holding a small smile on her face. She looked at Alexander, who had slept on the bed, and she eased her face and went to his side. She checked to make sure that his vitals were normal as she sat on the chair by his bedside.
Looking at his face, she noticed that he was so handsome now that there was color on his face. When he was still in a coma, his face was white and lifeless, which didn't really allow her to notice his features, but now that he had regained his consciousness, she was able to notice his features very well.
His thick eyebrows, which looked like they were drawn using an eye pencil, and his long lashes that could be easily mistaken for those of a woman. His straight and pointed nose, which made her wonder if it was so easy for him to breathe properly, and his stunning jawline. All these features made him look like a sculpted god. She closed her eyes and remembered his grey eyes and how mesmerizing they were.
As Sienna sat by his side, she couldn't help the small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. For someone who had been clinging to life just days ago, Alexander now seemed so… alive. Peaceful. Almost ethereal.
She leaned in slightly, her gaze softening. "You're really back," she whispered, more to herself than to him. "And I'm glad." Her voice was low and gentle, almost like a lullaby in the quiet room. She placed her palm on the edge of the bed, careful not to disturb him, and allowed herself a moment of silence.
Then, suddenly, she heard his voice - low, still thick with exhaustion. "You've been staring for a while," Alexander said without opening his eyes, the faintest smirk playing at his lips. Sienna blinked, caught completely off guard. "I thought you were asleep."
"I was. But you woke me up," he said, finally opening his eyes. That familiar gray now looked clearer, less stormy than earlier. "With your thoughts, apparently." Sienna scoffed softly, masking the flutter in her chest. "You must have incredible hearing then." He chuckled, a dry, gravelly sound. "Or maybe you talk to yourself too much."
She narrowed her eyes in mock defense. "I wasn't talking to myself. I was just... observing." "Observing what, exactly?" he asked, eyes still fixed on her. Sienna cleared her throat, straightening up. "Your vitals. That's all."
He looked amused. "Right. My vitals." She stood up then, more flustered than she wanted to admit. "Well, they're stable. You're doing fine. Try to get more rest." But before she could step away, his hand reached out and gently caught her wrist. She paused, looking back at him.
"Sienna…" he said, his voice suddenly serious, "thank you for being here." There was sincerity in his voice that made her chest tighten unexpectedly. "I didn't do it for thanks," she replied softly. "I know," he said, still holding her wrist. "That's why it means more."
She stayed like that for a moment, letting the silence speak for them both. Then gently, she pulled her hand away and tucked it into the pocket of her coat. "I'll come back to check on you later. You need to rest now," she said, turning toward the door.
As she walked out, her fingers curled around the spot he had touched. She didn't need to look back to know his eyes were still on her.
The air was thick with the scent of cigars and expensive scotch. The low hum of jazz played in the background as Thomas Hernandez swirled his glass with calculated ease, eyes fixed on the city lights beyond the window.
Gerald stood nearby, pacing. Unlike Thomas, he didn't pretend to be calm. His jaw was clenched, and his fingers twitched with barely contained frustration. "Are you sure?" Gerald asked, stopping in front of the Thomas. "That he's awake?"
Thomas Hernandez tilted his head. "Our contact at the estate said his informants overheard the maids in the house calling it a 'miraculous recovery.'" His tone dripped with sarcasm. "Yes, Gerald. He's very much alive."
Gerald cursed under his breath, running a hand through his slicked-back hair. "We should've finished the job at the crash site. We were too careful." "We were smart," Thomas corrected, sipping his drink. "A dead heir raises suspicion. But a coma? That's easy to manipulate. Blame the brakes. Blame the fog. Blame the driver who was supposed to drive and is no longer around to testify."
"But now he's awake," Gerald growled. "And if he remembers anything…" "He won't," Thomas said sharply. "And even if he does, he has no proof. No recordings. No documents. Everything ties back to nothing." He smirked, then continued, "I had someone delete all the information he gathered on his computer, so no need to worry."
Gerald didn't look convinced. Thomas stood and walked toward him slowly. "Listen, the boy's barely out of bed. His body's weak. His mind, weaker. And from what I hear, he's surrounded by people who still think he's just a spoiled heir with no real power."
Gerald folded his arms. "Everyone knows that that rumor is stale now. He has not made a public appearance yet, but people have been hearing of his deeds as an underling of his father. The guy is no joke. Besides, what if he really isn't as weak as we think he is now? He might…."
"Not if we play our cards right," Thomas said, a slow smile creeping across his face. "We just need to make sure Alexander stays confused. Distracted. And if necessary... we tighten the leash on the Millers."
"And if he starts digging?" Gerald asked.
Thomas's smile faded just slightly. "Then we dig faster. And deeper."
That night, when Mr. Miller came home and was resting while glancing through his evening paper, Mrs. Miller brought up her topic "I don't like the way she looks at him," Mrs. Miller said, folding her arms as she stood by the fireplace, her voice sharp.
Mr. Miller looked up from his evening paper, sighing. "Elizabeth, the girl saved our son's life." "That doesn't give her permission to play physician-turned-confidante," she snapped. "She walks around here like she belongs. Like she matters." "She's doing her job," Mr. Miller replied calmly. "That's all."
Mrs. Miller's eyes narrowed. "It's not just a job to her. I see the way she looks at Alexander. And the way he looks back - like he's found some savior in a lab coat." Mr. Miller set his paper down. "You're being paranoid."
"Am I?" she asked, her voice rising just slightly. "You weren't here when she had the audacity to question me. To threaten me with sarcasm. She forgets whose roof she's living under." There was a long pause. Then she added, more softly this time, "At least Emily understood the family she was stepping into. She knew how to carry herself."
Mr. Miller looked up, finally catching the real motive behind the rant. "Emily? You do remember she betrayed Alexander, don't you?" Mrs. Miller turned to face him. "She made a mistake. A stupid, youthful mistake. But she loved him."
"She slept with Ian," he said flatly. Mrs. Miller looked momentarily thrown but recovered quickly. "It wasn't just her fault. Ian pursued her too. And besides, Alexander was always so cold. Detached. Maybe if he had let himself feel…"
"Elizabeth," Mr. Miller interrupted firmly. "That girl broke our son's heart. And he left Harvard because of it. We are not bringing her back into his life."
Silence settled over the room, tense and brittle.
Mrs. Miller's voice was quieter now. "I'm just saying… maybe it's time we guide him back toward the right kind of people. People who understand status. Not strays with good intentions."
Mr. Miller didn't respond, but the look in his eyes said he'd heard every word. And while he didn't agree, he knew better than to argue when his wife had already made up her mind.