Hospital.

Remington had slept deeply. When he finally stirred from his dreamless slumber, his arm instinctively pulled inward.

However, his embrace was empty.

A jolt of panic surged through him. He snapped his eyes open to find himself alone in the hospital bed, the space beside him decidedly vacant.

Lizetta was nowhere to be seen in the room.

Remington threw off the covers, his expression darkening. Just as he was about to shout for the nurses, the door pushed open, and a familiar figure appeared.

"Oh, you're awake?"

Lizetta had changed into a long trench coat. Having lost significant weight over the past two days, the cinched belt made her look as though she were swimming in the fabric.

Seeing her, the tension drained from Remington's face, replaced by a flash of profound heartache.

He rose from the bed, his tall frame closing the distance between them.

"Why did you get up? You haven't recovered yet, and you're wandering around."

As he spoke, his large, warm hand cupped her forehead.

The water in her lungs had triggered severe pneumonia, leaving her battling a dangerously high fever for the last forty-eight hours.

Feeling that her skin was finally cool to the touch, Remington let out a breath of relief. He bent down, scooped her into his arms, and carried her back to the bed in long strides.

Lizetta let him fuss over her, fully leaning into his tender care.

"I haven't contacted the family in two days; my grandparents must have been terrified. I just stepped out to find a quiet corner and video call them."

After speaking, Lizetta untied the belt of her trench coat.

As the collar parted slightly, Remington noticed she was still wearing her hospital gown underneath.

Watching her undress, his gaze darkened noticeably.

He leaned over, bracing one arm on the bedrail beside her, his voice dropping an octave. "Let me."

Reaching out, he began helping her slip off the coat.

At first, Lizetta didn't suspect anything amiss and nodded

vol

cooperatively. That was, until he

undid the buttons down to her waist,

and his hand slipped inward

Moving with practiced familiarity, his palm slid under her loose hospital gown, tracing

her skin with a heat that rivaled her own.

Lizetta's eyes widened as she finally realized his intentions.

She grabbed his hand, leaning back to escape his touch.

"Mr. Dashiell, watch your surroundings."

Even though the room was empty, fooling around in a hospital was far too scandalous.

Remington's hand smoothly stroked up her spine.

"After a high fever, your muscles and bones ache. I'm just giving you a massage. Nothing else."

Lizetta had indeed been feeling a deep, lingering soreness. Taking advantage of the moment, his large hand glided up to her delicate shoulder blades, applying perfect pressure with the heel of his palm.

She nearly let out a soft groan of pleasure. Observing her expression, he asked softly.

"Does that feel good?"

She nodded slightly. "It actually helps."

Yielding to the comfort, Lizetta simply rested her forehead against his broad shoulder.

"My left side aches a bit more. Press a little harder there."

"Alright," Remington murmured, his hand expertly working its way down her spine.

He then asked, "You've lost so much weight, and you vanished for two whole days. Didn't Nelson get suspicious?"

Leaning against him, Lizetta smiled

softly. "I have Jerome to thank for that. He told Nelson that Yoli and went on an off-the-grid escape room adventure where phones weren't allowed. Nelson trusts Jerome completely, so he didn't doubt it for a second. As for the weight loss, he did ask, but I told him I'd gain it back in a few days. He even demanded daily video checks to see my progress..."