CHAPTER 161: THE NEW THREAT

The hospital hallway smelled of antiseptic and grief.

Jean walked briskly, a nurse guiding her and Logan toward the intensive care unit. Her heart pounded in her chest like it was being chased. She hadn’t stopped trembling since Henry’s call. The cold fluorescent lights above did nothing to stop the burning in her chest.

Her arms were wrapped tightly around herself, shielding her bandaged hands, though the pain had nothing to do with her wounds. They hadn’t even fully healed, yet misfortune found her again, this time snatching the one person she loved deeply... until now.

Emma.

Her cousin. Her friend. The one person who always stood by her.

They reached the end of the corridor. The nurse stepped aside.

Jean’s eyes locked onto the ICU room through the glass. Emma was lying unconscious, wrapped in layers of gauze, tubes attached to her, face bruised and partially burned. Machines beeped rhythmically, as if fighting to hold on for her when her body could not.

Jean took one step back. The floor beneath her feet felt unsteady.

Logan placed a steadying hand on her back.

She stepped forward again. She had to.

Inside, she sat beside the bed, hands clenched on her lap. Emma looked so fragile... nothing like the fiery girl who once argued over window seats in Logan’s jet, or who teased Jean relentlessly about Logan’s brooding affection.

Tears slipped down Jean’s cheeks.

"I should’ve answered her call," she whispered. "She tried so hard to warn us or might have asked for help. And I..." her voice cracked... "I was too wrapped up in myself to notice."

Logan remained silent behind her, standing at a respectful distance, watching her pain unfold.

Jean leaned forward, gently brushing a loose strand of hair from Emma’s forehead, careful not to disturb the burns.

"You were supposed to be okay," she murmured. "You were supposed to go on silly dates and steal Hannah’s fries and get drunk and yell at me like some idiot."

A single sob escaped her throat.

"I can’t lose you."

Her hand reached for Emma’s. Cold.

Jean’s thoughts spiraled. Her parents... the assault... and now Emma.

Her body was screaming, aching, begging for this nightmare to end.

Behind her, Logan slowly knelt beside her, his presence quiet but firm. His hand reached for hers.

"I’ll find out who did this," he said softly, his voice low, deadly. "No matter what it takes."

Jean nodded slowly, never taking her eyes off Emma. Her tears didn’t stop.

Because this wasn’t just about revenge anymore.

It was about protecting what little she had left.

___________________________

Jean was still seated by Emma’s bedside, her hand gently resting over Emma’s limp fingers. The soft beeping of the monitors was the only sound in the room. Logan stood a short distance away, watching the door, his jaw tense, eyes scanning each person who passed by.

Then... Bang!

The door swung open with a violent crash.

"MR ADAMS! You can’t go in there like that..." a nurse’s voice yelled from behind, but it was too late.

Morris stormed in, his face red with fury, his coat thrown haphazardly over one shoulder. His eyes landed on Emma... and then immediately on Jean. His breathing was labored, unsteady, as though his rage was the only thing keeping him upright.

Jean stood up instinctively, startled. "Uncle..."

"Get away from her." His voice thundered through the sterile air.

Logan stepped forward, his expression darkening.

But Morris didn’t even look at him.

"You..." he pointed a trembling finger at Jean. "You were with her. Weren’t you?! You’re the reason this happened! Wherever you go, people get hurt."

Jean flinched. "That’s not true. I didn’t know... she called, but..."

"She called but what? Don’t tell me she was trying to reach you in an emergency and yet you didn’t help her!" Morris roared, his voice cracking under the weight of panic and grief. "And now look at her!" He gestured to Emma, lying unconscious under pale sheets, her face bandaged, barely recognizable. "My daughter... my only daughter!"

Jean’s knees buckled slightly, but she didn’t fall. Logan’s hand instinctively reached for her, grounding her.

"I loved Emma like she was my sister," Jean said, her voice trembling, but steady. "I would’ve traded places with her if I could..."

"Don’t you dare," Morris hissed, stepping closer. "You don’t get to act noble now. Ever since you came into our lives, everything has been falling apart. My house... my family... my daughter...!"

"Morris, that’s enough." Logan’s voice cut through like steel, stepping between them now. "She’s hurting too. This isn’t helping Emma."

But Morris’s face twisted with pain. "Of course you’d defend her. She’s your so-called wife after all. But tell me, Logan... how many people have to bleed for her before you open your eyes?"

Jean’s lips parted slightly, but no words came out. Her chest ached... because somewhere inside, that guilt, the pain, the self-blame... it was already there. Morris’s words only echoed it louder.

"The only person whom I have seen bleed is Jean and Jean only because of your pathetic family." Logan grits his teeth.

Suddenly, the monitors behind Emma let out a louder beep. A nurse rushed in.

"You have to leave!" she demanded, eyes wide. "Please, all of you!"

Jean stepped back. Logan pulled her out gently, but she could still hear Morris’s voice crack one last time behind them...

"Jean Adams... you are a curse."

The words shattered something inside her.

And as the door closed behind them, Jean couldn’t stop the tears.

Not anymore.

__________________________

Jean stood frozen just outside the ICU, her back pressed against the cold wall. Her fingers trembled as she wiped away the tear that had slipped down her cheek. Her heart was thudding in a strange rhythm... half aching for Emma, half burning from Morris’s words.

Logan stood next to her, silent for a moment, letting the weight of what had just happened settle in the space between them.

Then, quietly, firmly... he spoke.

"Let’s go, Jean."

She blinked, turning to him. Her voice was thin. "I... I can’t just leave. He hates me. He thinks I..."

Logan’s hand gently wrapped around hers. "It doesn’t matter what he thinks right now."