Isabel’s POV
The drive to the hospital is quiet, save for the occasional hum of Roy’s engine and the faint sound of my own thoughts whirring like a storm. Once we arrive, we step into the cool, sterile air of the lobby and inquire about Alexander King. A nurse directs us to his room, and I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding as we head toward it.
When we enter, Alexander is lying on the bed, looking much better than when they’d rushed him out of the restaurant. Relief washes over me. I knew it was a mild allergy, but I can’t lie—I worried. What if his allergy had worsened over the years? What if I’d unknowingly caused him serious harm? But seeing him now, steady and breathing fine, the weight lifts.
Good, I think. He’ll need his strength for what I have planned next.
The do
