In the hospital's VIP ward, the stench of antiseptic cowers beneath the lily bouquet's fragrance.
Anders Trier sits by the bed, cradling a steaming bowl of soup.
"Caroline, one more sip." He offers the spoon to Caroline's lips, voice syrupy.
Caroline's pale cheeks pinken as she sips from his hand.
"Anders, with you here… won't Miss Lagerfelt—"
"She won't mind."
He cuts her off, tone too firm.
"Jessica is the most understanding."
But as he sets the bowl, the porcelain spoon clatters against the glass table. Five days.
Five days without a word.
He fishes out his phone.
Five messages lie there,unread.
"I need to make a call."
He stands abruptly.
He dials for the tenth time.
A robotic voice repeats "no answer", bouncing off the stairs like swarming mosquitoes.
He calls his beta
