Betrayed By The Billionaire

201

Chloe cast a brief, distracted glance at the physician as she finished her conversation with Lyra. Her voice was raspy, the lingering fever making every word an effort. "I have to take my medicine now," she murmured into the phone. "Just remember to bring your card. I haven't even settled the deposit for the hospital fees yet."

She hung up before Lyra could launch into a frantic series of questions or complaints about the Grayson family’s cheapness.

Dr. Lang leaned over the nightstand, methodically shaking the colorful capsules into a small paper cup. He moved with a practiced, gentle grace, pouring a glass of lukewarm water and setting it within her reach. "Was that a boyfriend on the line, Mrs. Grayson?" he asked, his tone carefully calibrated to sound like casual, friendly banter. "I hope I didn't interrupt a private moment."

Chloe looked at him, a flicker of confusion crossing her tired features. She took the water, swallowing the bitter pills in one go before answering. "No. Just a close friend."

The doctor seemed to exhale a breath he had been holding, his posture relaxing slightly. He lingered by the bed, his gaze roaming over her face with an intensity that felt increasingly personal. "Are you facing some difficulties, Chloe? If you don't mind me calling you that."

Chloe shook her head, her movements stiff. "No, not at all." In truth, her only "difficulty" was that her purse—along with her credit cards and ID—was still sitting in the backseat of Xavier’s Rolls-Royce. She was a Bishop, a woman whose name usually opened every door in the city, yet here she was, unable to pay for her own IV drip.

Dr. Lang didn't push further. He flashed a polished, professional smile and slid a crisp white business card toward her. "I’m Dr. Julian Lang, your primary physician. If you feel even the slightest bit of discomfort—or if you just need someone to talk to—you can reach me anytime. My private cell number is on the back."

Chloe finally grasped the underlying subtext of his "attentiveness." Out of a sense of social obligation, she accepted the card, but the doctor made no move toward the exit. She felt a prickle of irritation. "Is there something else, Dr. Lang?"

"Oh, no, nothing. Just rest. Remember, I'm just a call away."

Finally alone, Chloe let out a long, weary sigh. She felt as though her bladder was about to burst, a side effect of the massive amount of fluids they were pumping into her system. She glanced at the IV bag—it was still a third full. Impatience won out over caution. She stood up, reaching for the metal pole to wheel it toward the bathroom, but her legs felt like overcooked noodles.

The world spun. Her hand slipped from the bedframe, and the glass IV bottle crashed against the linoleum floor. The vacuum seal broke, and Chloe watched in a daze as her own dark blood began to backflow up the plastic tubing.

"Oh, no..." she whispered, panicking as the crimson climbed higher.

Suddenly, the door burst open. A tall figure strode in, reaching down to scoop the shattered bottle from the floor and hoisting it high above his head to restore the pressure.

It was Dr. Lang.

For a fleeting, illogical second, Chloe felt a sharp pang of disappointment. The emotion vanished as quickly as it had arrived, leaving her wondering who exactly she had expected to see charging through that door. Certainly not the man who had abandoned her here.

Dr. Lang looked at her with exaggerated concern, his hand steadying the pole. "Chloe! Are you alright? You shouldn't be out of bed."

"I just... I felt dizzy," she rasped.

"Dizziness is to be expected after such a trauma. Here, let me help you sit back down."

He reached out, his hand sliding under her arm. As he guided her to the edge of the mattress, Chloe felt a distinct, lingering pressure against the sensitive skin of her inner wrist. It was too intentional to be an accident, a slow, calculated stroke that made her skin crawl.

She tried to tell herself she was being paranoid. This was a man of medicine, a professional dedicated to healing. But then, instead of stepping back to call a nurse to clean up the glass, Dr. Lang sat down on the edge of the bed beside her. He placed a hand firmly in the center of her back, rubbing slow, rhythmic circles.

"Do you feel better now?" he asked, his voice dropping into a low, intimate whisper. "You know, Chloe, you have the look of someone who has traveled a long way to find herself in this city. It must be so exhausting, fighting all alone in a place like this."

Chloe’s entire body went rigid, the warmth of his hand feeling like a brand through the thin fabric of her hospital gown. "Dr. Lang," she said, her voice turning into a sliver of ice. "Please maintain a professional distance."

The doctor didn't flinch. He leaned in closer, the scent of his sterile soap cloying and intrusive. "There's no need to be defensive. I see women like you all the time—beautiful, ambitious, but neglected by the men who should be protecting them. You don't have to carry the world on your shoulders today."

It was the classic predatory script of a man looking for a vulnerability to exploit. Chloe realized with a jolt of cold clarity that while she was being hunted by "Demons" in the boardroom, she was now being circled by a different kind of scavenger in the ward.

Chloe is physically weak, but her mind is sharpening with every passing second of this unwanted advances. Dr. Lang thinks he’s found an easy target in an abandoned wife, but he has no idea he’s dealing with a woman who has survived the "Demon CEO." As Chloe prepares to drive him out of the room, the sound of heavy, rhythmic footsteps echoes from the hallway—footsteps that carry the unmistakable weight of power.

Do you think Xavier has returned to find the doctor "comforting" his wife, or is this the arrival of Donovan Tang?