CHAPTER 72: KINGSLEY AND ANDERSON

Outside the treatment room, the hallway buzzed with quiet tension.

Three nurses huddled near the corner, murmuring in hushed voices, while the head nurse scrolled silently through a report on her tablet.

"I knew it," Mira whispered, casting a wary glance at the closed door across from them. "The second Mr. Anderson saw her in the lobby, I felt it in my gut. He was going to cause trouble."

"His eyes changed," another nurse muttered. "Like he locked onto her. Then he just stormed up here, no hesitation."

The head nurse let out a quiet sigh and tucked the tablet under her arm. "Good thing you called Mr. Kingsley when you did."

Mira shifted, arms crossing. "Honestly, I wasn’t sure he’d come so fast. But... I remembered what he told us, back when he signed off on Mr. Sinclair’s treatment. Said she was his wife. Told us not to say a word to her about it—but made it clear she was under his protection."

The others exchanged uneasy glances.

"This is kind of scary," Mira murmured, voice rising slightly. "I didn’t even know she was his ex-fiancée—"

"Lower your voice," the head nurse cut in sharply, eyes flicking down the hall. "That’s not for us to spread. You know both of those men... Kingsley and Anderson... They don’t play nice. And they don’t forget."

"I thought Mr. Kingsley was the quiet, refined type," the third nurse whispered. "But when he walked in earlier... I felt colder than when George came storming through the lobby."

"They’re scary in different ways," the head nurse said, voice clipped. "Mr. Anderson burns like a wildfire. Mr. Kingsley? He’s a storm that never warns before it hits."

The hallway went silent for a beat, each of them replaying what they had witnessed that day.

Then came the soft click of the treatment room door unlocking.

Daisy stepped out first, her expression unreadable. Elias followed, his hand wrapped tightly around hers. Their fingers were laced together, but neither spoke.

The nurses instinctively moved aside, as if parting for something fragile, not just a patient, but the heavy, invisible thread of emotions trailing behind them.

Daisy kept her gaze low, shoulders stiff, her pace steady. She didn’t look toward the nurses, didn’t glance at the curious stares. It was like she was somewhere else entirely, holding herself together by sheer will, for Theo, for Elias.

Elias walked ahead just slightly, still holding Daisy’s hand as they stepped out into the muted afternoon light. When they reached the car, he gently opened the door for her, then paused, his hand reaching out to shield her head from the frame as she slid inside.

She didn’t say thank you. He didn’t expect her to.

Once he got in and closed the door behind him, the silence returned, thick and unyielding. Only the faint hum of the air conditioner filled the space.

Then Elias spoke, his voice quiet but steady, "George is Julian’s best friend..." He stared ahead, not quite looking at her. "Used to be mine too."

The words hung between them, heavier than before.

"Julian..." Daisy opened her mouth slowly, her voice quieter than she expected. "Was he... your twin?" she guessed.

She wasn’t certain where the thought had come from, maybe it was all the scattered details from the past few days. The way Elias had snapped, the names that kept surfacing, the bitterness in George’s voice. None of it was said plainly, but somehow, it all pointed to this.

Elias didn’t answer right away. His jaw clenched as he stared ahead, fingers tightening briefly on the steering wheel.

Then, finally, he nodded. "Yeah," he said, voice low. "He was."

"You don’t need to tell me anything if you’re not ready," Daisy said softly, turning slightly in her seat to face him. "I just wanted to say something..."

She hesitated, searching for the right words.

"I don’t really know what happened or how he died, but from all the emotions I’ve seen... the way your family acts, I don’t think they hate you. I won’t defend the harsh things they said to you, because... well, even if they were grieving, that’s not how you show that your pain is greater than someone else’s."

She paused, her fingers curling into her lap.

"But I believe your mother never really meant it that way... you know," she gave a small, sad smile, "Women tend to follow their emotions too much. We say things we don’t mean when it gets overwhelming—"

"I’m tired." Elias cut her off, his voice flat.

Daisy turned back to face the front. "Hmm... okay... I’m sorry," she said softly, almost like she was apologizing for intruding on something she shouldn’t have touched.

The silence returned, heavier this time, but not uncomfortable, more like a shared moment of quiet surrender. The kind that didn’t need words to be understood.

Outside, the soft patter of drizzle began to tap against the windshield.

"Does it hurt?" Daisy finally asked, her voice almost drowned by the sound of the rain. She kept her eyes on the road ahead, fingers nervously brushing her skirt. "I mean... your cheek. And lips?"

Elias didn’t respond right away. His gaze was fixed out the window, as if watching memories pass by faster than the city lights.

Then, with a faint twitch at the corner of his mouth, he murmured, "A little. But I’ve had worse."

He paused, then added, "He didn’t hold back."

Daisy looked down, guilt stirring in her chest. "I’m sorry."

"You weren’t the one who punched me," he said. "You don’t need to say sorry every time someone else messes up."

Still, her fingers tightened in her lap. "It still feels like my fault... since I dragged you into my problem."

This time, he turned to look at her. "It’s not."

"Then, can I ask you one more thing?" Daisy gazed softly at the side profile of Elias.

Elias nodded weakly, his eyes staying on the road. "Hmm... go on."

"Do you feel relief, when you can act like you wanted to?"

Her question made Elias turn his head and keep it there for too long.

"Look at the front, Theo Kingsley."