The vein in Tristan Davis's temple throbbed as he struggled to keep his temper in check. "I'm not telling you to drop the investigation," he said, voice low. "But you're being watched now. Lay low for a while. Let me help you. Don't draw attention to yourself."

Emily Blair turned to him, her gaze unwavering. "If someone really did orchestrate that car accident, that's all the more reason I can't let you get tangled up in this mess. This is my problem-I'll handle it myself."

"Oh, now you remember to think for yourself?" Tristan let out a sharp, humorless laugh. “I told you already: the moment you woke up, you asked about Alex White, about Elizabeth Wilson and your aunt, and even about me. But you never once bothered to ask about yourself."

He fixed her with a hard look. "Emily, you need to value your own safety. You shouldn't be putting yourself in danger like this."

Her voice softened. "I do value myself, but this is different. I have to—"

Tristan suddenly shot to his feet, his expression cold and steely. "I told you I'd help you. That wasn't just talk. Whatever you need done, just say the word."

"If you really cared about yourself, you wouldn't insist on investigating when you know how risky it is," he added.

Emily's brow creased. "Tristan, this really is different for me. I have to do this myself..."

She broke off, coughing violently. The fit left her cheeks tinged red against her pale skin.

"-cough, cough—"

Tristan's scowl deepened. "You look like this, and you still want to investigate?"

Emily shook her head, still coughing, a grimace of pain flickering across her face. Her once-bright features, so lively and beautiful, were now drawn and colorless from the accident-like a flower withering before it ever had the chance to bloom.

Tristan's heart twisted at the sight.

He moved closer, bending over her, worry etched deep between his brows. "Where does it hurt? I'll get the doctor."

Emily reached out, weakly clutching his arm, shaking her head.

"No, no doctor," she managed after catching her breath. "I know you're worried, but this is something I have to do myself. I don't want to drag you into it.”

Tristan's jaw tightened. For a second, it looked like he might tear his arm free, but in the end, he gently pried her fingers loose.

"Even now, you're still drawing a line between us?" he said, voice rough.

Emily gave him a weary smile. "Tristan, please, just listen to me. Can you do that?"

He shook his head. "No. You're still lying here, not even discharged yet. Look at the bandages on your head. Tell me, how exactly do you plan to investigate? You barely have enough strength to stay awake, and you want to risk your life over this?"

Emily stared at him, taken aback. "You don't have to say it like that."

He didn't think he was being harsh at all. In his eyes, Emily's stubborn insistence on handling things alone was no different from throwing herself into the fire.

Tristan shut his eyes, forcing down his anger. "You just woke up. I don't want to argue. Think about it. I'm leaving."

He strode out, leaving Emily gazing after him, her expression a storm of emotions.

A few moments later, Elizabeth Wilson and Emma George entered the room. Elizabeth nearly broke down in tears when she saw Emily awake, and the two women leaned on each other as they hurried to her bedside.

"Emily, you're finally awake!"

Both of them were red-eyed. Emily managed a faint smile. “Alright, that's enough. If you keep crying, my head's really going to start hurting."