As they brushed past each other in the hallway, Foreman''s expression suddenly changed. Without warning, he shoved Ste out of the way.


    "Star, get down!"


    A sh of cold steel sliced through the air, catching Foreman''s arm just as he moved.


    The waiter, seeing his first attack had failed, lunged again, knife in hand, aiming straight for Ste.


    Foreman reacted instantly,nding a swift kick that sent the man sprawling across the floor. The assant scrambled up to flee, realizing he''d missed his chance. Without hesitating, he darted away and disappeared.


    Foreman didn''t give chase. He knew it could be a diversion-a ssic bait-and- switch. If he left Ste and Abby alone, there could be more danger waiting.


    Abby and Ste stared anxiously at Foreman''s bleeding arm.


    "Mr. Richards, you''re hurt! You need to get to a hospital right away," Abby said, voice trembling.


    Foreman''s eyes flickered with concern. "Not yet. If there are more of them waiting at the hospital, I might not be able to protect you and Star in my condition."


    Abby nced nervously around the lobby, afraid another attacker would spring from the shadows. "Should we call Neville''s people toe protect us?"


    Foreman shook his head. "They''re better off keeping watch from a distance. If they show themselves, our enemies might get desperate and do something reckless—like ramming us with a car. We wouldn''t have time to react."


    Abby''s nerves were fraying. "Then... should we go upstairs for now?"


    He shook his head again. "If a hitman could pose as a hotel waiter, it means the ce is alreadypromised. There could be someone waiting for us upstairs too."


    Abby looked helpless. "So what do we do?"


    Foreman turned to Ste. "We''ll go to my ce. With my security, there''s no way they can get in."


    Blood was already soaking through the sleeve of his white shirt. Ste nced at his wounded arm, then nodded.


    "Alright," she agreed softly.


    A faint, almost imperceptible smile appeared on Foreman''s lips.


    ...


    They arrived at Foreman''s vi. The ce was spacious and spotless, well-lit, and free of the cold emptiness you''d expect from a house that size.


    When they entered, Foreman''s private physician was already waiting, along with his assistant.


    The doctor carefully cleaned and bandaged Foreman''s arm. "The cut isn''trge, but it''s deep. Keep it


    dry-no


    dry-no exercise for a while, or it might get infected or tear open again."


    Foreman nodded, then turned to his assistant. "Go back to the hotel and bring Ms. Cameron''s and Ms. Murphy''s luggage here."


    "Yes, Mr. Richards. Oh-and..." The assistant hesitated, then continued, "There''s


    an urgent document from the office that needs your signature."


    "Bring it here," Foreman replied.


    The assistant handed him the file. As Foreman reached for a pen, the doctor stopped him.


    The doctor studied Foreman''s pale face and sighed. "Mr. Richards, you''ve been working until midnight every day. Your schedule and diet are a mess. If you keep this up, your body won''t take it. With your arm injured, you really should focus on resting. Work can wait."


    "But this document is important," the assistant protested.


    The doctor turned to Ste. "Ms. Cameron, maybe you can talk some sense into him."


    Ste hesitated. She felt like an


    outsider who was she to meddle in


    Foreman''s affairs? But seeing the fresh blood on his sleeve, knowing


    he was hurt because of her, She found herself speaking up.


    "Foreman, maybe you should take some time to heal first. Your work can wait, can''t it?"


    If he insisted, she wouldn''t push him. But to her surprise, Foreman didn''t even hesitate.


    "Alright. Whatever you say."