?Chapter 1594:


    “Stage three hypertension—a dangerously high level!” the doctor snapped, voice tight with frustration. “At his age, his blood vessels are as brittle as thin ss. How could you allow him to be so worked up? His fury sent his blood pressure soaring to 220. He narrowly escaped disaster—had those cerebral vessels given way, it would have been a severe hemorrhagic stroke. The consequences would have been catastrophic.” His voice rose, anger breaking through. “What on earth are you young people doing? Exercise extreme caution from here on out!”


    Under the doctor’s sharp reprimand, Maia dropped her gaze, fingers curling slowly until her nails pressed deep crescents into her palms.


    “I’m sorry… It was my fault,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper, epting every word of me without excuse.


    The doctor repeated a few precautionary measures before turning away.


    Silence settled over the corridor once more.


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    Maia remained where she stood, back pressed to the cold wall, chest tight as though a stone had settled over her heart. Dominic had stage-three hypertension—and she was only finding out now.


    But what could have pushed him to such a breaking point? Was it her stubborn refusal to return to Drakmire? Or was it Chris?


    Yet Chris hadn’t done anything extreme. His detention was tied to his association with Cooper Group—nothing he had personally caused.


    So what, then, had driven her grandfather to the edge?


    Meanwhile, in a small, secure room at Norase Hospital—originally intended for short-term prisoner holding—Chris now sat alone.


    True to the Major’s word to Maia, he wasn’t cuffed or interrogated. On the table beside him sat a freshly delivered bottle of water and bread. Chris leaned back in his chair, his expressionposed and unbothered, as though he weren’t technically being held captive.


    He slipped his hand into his pocket and pulled out the phone Maia had returned to him during the chaos. Unlocking the screen, he found an unread message.


    It was from Maia.


    “I’ll find a way to get you out.”


    A faint warmth softened his otherwise sharp features as he read her words. Then he moved to the rest of the message. “Also, I suspect that truck hasn’t gone far. Check all the repair shops along Route 103. If that yields nothing, check Kolton’s residence.”


    Chris’s fingers tapped lightly on the table as he considered her instructions. Her reasoning mirrored his own. The operatives hadn’t eliminated Kolton on the spot, which indicated they had a n—a textbook cut-and-run. All the evidence and me would need a scapegoat, and Kolton fit the profile perfectly.


    As for the missing heavy truck, abandoned repair shops along the route were the only usible hiding spots on such short notice.


    Yet Maia’s reference to Kolton’s home nagged at him. Why mention the residence specifically? Could the operatives actually return him there? It seemed almost impossible—but Chris trusted Maia’s instincts. Even without fully understanding her logic, he acted immediately.


    He dialed an encrypted line. The connection clicked at once.


    “Grayson,” Chris said.


    “Boss! Where are you? We’ve been trying to reach you!”


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