Chapter 992:

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“Tell Hilliard to get in here! And where is my father? He’s supposed to be here!”

A man’s voice, low and bored, replied, “Mr. Van Doren is in a meeting.”

Giselle let out a high, contemptuous laugh. “A meeting? He’ll be tearing you all to pieces in an hour. Then he’ll carry me out of here like a princess.”

Cailin lay perfectly still, listening. Every word was a piece of a puzzle. She connected Giselle’s presence, her mention of her father, and the nurse’s lie about Hilliard’s “meeting.”

A stunning, terrifying picture began to form in her mind.

The door to her room opened. Hilliard walked in, a shadow of exhaustion under his eyes that his iron control couldn’t quite conceal.

He came to her bedside and adjusted her blanket, his touch surprisingly gentle. “Did she wake you?” he asked, his voice low.

Cailin ignored the question. She looked directly into his eyes. “You have her,” she stated, her voice flat. “You brought her here.”

Hilliard’s hand stilled on the blanket. He knew better than to lie to her. He gave a slow, deliberate nod.

“And Donovan Van Doren is here, too,” Cailin continued, her voice gaining strength. “You’re negotiating with him.”

𝖰𝘂𝘢𝗅it𝘺 trаn𝘴lа𝘵𝗂𝘰𝗇𝘴 𝘰𝘯 𝘨𝘢lոo𝘷el𝘴.𝗰𝗼𝗺

A flicker of surprise crossed his face, quickly replaced by a wry, tired smile. “Your instincts are as sharp as ever.”

He sat in the chair by her bed. “He’s tougher than I anticipated,” Hilliard admitted. “The talks have stalled. Julian is with him now, trying to wear him down.”

Cailin’s gaze drifted to the window, to the gray city skyline. “You’re trading her life for my antidote.” It wasn’t a question.

He didn’t answer. He didn’t have to.

She turned her head back to him, her expression a complex mixture of awe and fear. “It’s a hell of a gamble, Hilliard. You’re betting that Donovan’s love for his daughter is stronger than his obsession with his family’s honor.”

He reached for her hand. It was as cold as ice. “I didn’t have a choice.”

Cailin slowly, deliberately, pulled her hand away. She shook her head.

“Yes, you did,” she whispered. “You just didn’t see it.”

He looked at her, confused.

Her gaze shifted toward the wall, in the direction of Giselle’s room. A pale, cold smile touched her lips.

“You’re betting on the wrong person,” she said, her voice dropping to a near-whisper, each word precise and sharp. “You shouldn’t be betting on Donovan’s love. You should be betting on Giselle’s selfishness.”

Hilliard stared at her, the meaning of her words not yet registering.

Cailin closed her eyes, a general marshaling her forces for the final, decisive battle. She knew the key to this war wasn’t in the lounge downstairs with the powerful men. It was in the room next door, with the arrogant, terrified woman being eaten alive by poison and fear.

When Hilliard re-entered the lounge, the air was thick with unspoken hostility. Donovan Van Doren stood staring out the window, his back rigid. Julian Croft was slowly, methodically polishing a pair of antique spectacles.

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