He watched with a complicated expression as Andrew Lane, careful and composed, lifted Emily Blair into the car. Climbing in himself, he glanced over to see Andrew gently lay Emily down across the back seat, resting her head on his lap and cradling her arm protectively in his hand.

Jesse pressed his lips together and quietly shut the car door behind them.

The nearest hospital was the same one Emily had stayed in before. With the accelerator floored, Tristan sped the car through the empty streets, bringing them to the hospital entrance in less than half an hour.

Before Jesse could even get out, he spotted Tristan Davis already waiting by the hospital doors. Jesse hesitated for a moment, then hurried out, reaching for the back door—only to find Andrew already stepping out, holding Emily securely in his

arms.

Tristan strode forward. The two men locked eyes for a tense second, then both looked away.

There was no time for jealousy or confrontation. The situation was urgent, so Tristan simply fell in step at Andrew's side, his gaze lingering on Emily's pale face. When he caught sight of the bruises on her neck, his eyes narrowed sharply.

Inside, doctors and nurses rushed over with a gurney, swiftly wheeling Emily away into the emergency room. The three men were left standing outside, barred from entering.

Tristan leaned against the wall, closing his eyes for a moment before pinching the bridge of his nose. "Jesse, tell me exactly what happened."

Jesse recounted everything that had transpired in the factory, leaving nothing out. He finished, "We've already called the police. They're on their way to investigate."

Tristan nodded silently, not trusting himself to speak further.

His gaze shifted to Andrew Lane, who sat hunched on a bench outside the operating room, elbows on his knees and fingers tightly interlaced.

First Alex White, now Emily Blair. Even without hard evidence, Tristan was convinced Isabella Austin was behind it all.

The man sitting before him was Isabella's husband. By all rights, Tristan ought to take out his anger on him. But Andrew was the one who'd carried Emily to safety, the one who brought her to the hospital.

A thousand questions twisted through Tristan's mind. Was Andrew involved in Isabella's schemes? Had he obstructed the police investigation? Did he even know about the kidnapping? Tristan wanted to ask Jesse if Andrew had acted suspiciously on the way over, but with Andrew right there, it wasn't the time.

According to the police, Matthew Ross had confessed to everything-Isabella's role in the misdiagnosis, the evidence, all of it. The case against her was airtight now. They were just waiting for the arrest warrant to bring her in.

The hallway was almost unnaturally still. Tristan's voice, rough and cold, broke the silence. "Mr. Lane, I suppose I should thank you for helping get Emily out of there today."

Andrew finally looked up at him, his gaze steady. "I was only doing what I had to. If anyone should thank me, it's Emily herself-not you."

The implication was clear: Tristan had no right to speak on Emily's behalf.

Tristan let out a humorless laugh. "Mr. Lane, family matters are complicated. Maybe you should be focusing on your own household, instead of getting involved with people who have nothing to do with you."

Andrew didn't respond.

Tristan continued, “Let me give you a word of advice-keep an eye on the person sleeping next to you."

Andrew's reply was slow and quiet. "What are you getting at?"

Tristan's lips curved in a faint, cold smile. "You'll know soon enough."

Andrew was more direct. "What did Isabella do?"

Tristan stared him down, unsure whether Andrew was playing dumb or simply didn't know.