Ethan had been gone for nearly twenty-four hours.
To most people, that wouldn’t mean much. But Lydia knew him—he never walked away from anything he considered his. If he disappeared, it was because he was arranging something out of sight.
Nurse Madison Reed noticed the change first. After a quiet adjustment to Lydia’s treatment plan, the labs started improving. The liver numbers that had been climbing into dangerous territory were now leveling off. It wasn’t a miracle, but it directly contradicted the earlier warning that she had “no more than three days.”
“This doesn’t add up,” the attending physician muttered, staring at the monitor. “If the damage were irreversible, we wouldn’t see a response like this.”
Madison and Lydia exchanged a look. The pattern was becoming hard to ignore.
Ethan returned the next day looking flawless—tailored clothes, his familiar expensive cologne, and that carefully practiced concern he wore so well in public.
“How is she?” he asked at the nurses’ station.
“Stable,” Madison replied evenly.
His jaw tightened for a split second before he smoothed it away. Lydia caught it the moment he walked into her room.