Chapter 1783:


    He wasn’t there only to see Adide. He had decided, firmly and finally, that he was going to get Gillian to let him reach her properly — today. He had run out of time and patience for circling the problem. If he left without resolving it, he might not get another chance.


    Alban reached the hospital room door and stopped dead.


    He stood outside it, frowning, his thoughts tangled beyond any useful shape. His hand hovered near the handle but wouldn’t quite make contact.


    “If you’re not going in, get out of the way. You’re blocking the door,” Bain said, and shoulder-checked him aside without ceremony.


    By the time Alban recovered his bnce and formed a response, Bain had already stepped inside and let the door swing shut behind him. Alban clenched his teeth and said nothing, though the things going through his mind were considerably less restrained.


    He wanted to follow him in and say exactly what he thought. But the moment he reached for the handle again, every prepared word deserted him entirely.


    He had spent hours rehearsing this — running through greetings, working out opening lines, testing expressions in the mirror. He had more material prepared than he would ever need. And now, standing here in front of the door, it had all simply vanished. His usually reliable memory had chosen the worst possible moment to fail himpletely.


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    He was still standing there, suspended between resolve and paralysis, when the door opened from the inside.


    Henrik’s face appeared — and the expression on it shifted immediately from mild contentment to undisguised irritation.


    “What are you doing here?” Henrik said, low and sharp.


    He had given Alban explicit instructions to stay away. He could not believe the man had shown up anyway.


    “Grandpa, I only wanted to—” Alban began.


    “There’s nothing here for you. Go home,” Henrik said, already trying to maneuver him away from the door before anyone inside noticed the conversation taking ce.


    “Grandpa, I think Bain might already know about—” Alban started, meaning to warn him, but stopped when he caught a glimpse of Christina moving toward them from inside the room.


    “Know about what? Finish what you’re saying,” Henrik said, still not registering what was happening behind him.


    Alban widened his eyes in what he hoped was a readable signal.


    Henrik noticed the expression and looked puzzled. “What is wrong with your eyes? Are you having some kind of spasm?”


    Alban let out a quiet, defeated breath. “Grandpa.”


    “What are you both doing out here?” Christina’s voice reached them from the doorway, and Henrik finally understood. He turned around with an expression that attempted warmth and fell somewhat short of it.


    “My grandson came for a check-up and stopped by to see me,” Henrik said, producing a smile that convinced no one, including himself.


    Christina looked Alban over with a measured, unhurried gaze. Something in her expression shifted — a barely perceptible pause, a slight narrowing of attention.


    “He does look like he could use a check-up,” she said, her voice perfectly even.


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