?Chapter 1527:


    The thought stopped Ste cold. She should hate William — she knew that much.


    He had kept her isted and humiliated her with cruel words. He had threatened everyone she loved, and even forced her to jump from that towering bungee tform — a coerced leap that still haunted her nightmares. She should want him to bleed out and suffer.


    But the instant she had seen blood streaming from his wound, something had seized her heart like an invisible fist, and instinct had driven her forward — not away — desperate to stop the bleeding.


    Warm, dimmplight bathed her pale face in soft shadows, but her eyes held nothing but confusion. She could no longer distinguish who actually upied the space in her heart. Was this Stockholm Syndrome? Had she somehow fallen in love with her tormentor?


    She had no answer.


    She only knew that William was bleeding heavily, that the wound had looked dangerously deep, and that he had refused to let her anywhere near him. He had apparently locked himself in the study and had not emerged since. She had no idea what condition he was in now.


    When Ste pushed herself up from the bed, the sudden movement sent darkness rushing to the edges of her vision. She pressed her palm t against the wall and waited for the dizziness to pass before slowly easing her bedroom door open.


    The hour had grown impossiblyte. Darkness nketed the entire vi — even the corridor lights had been extinguished for the night. Her gaze went immediately to the study. No light seeped through the gap beneath the door.


    Had he fallen asleep, or was he still bleeding somewhere in the dark?


    Ste hovered in her doorway for several long moments before gathering the courage to step into the hallway.


    At two in the morning, she descended the stairs barefoot, the plush carpet muffling her footsteps. Tasha’s room upied the far end of the first-floor corridor. Ste stopped outside the door, hesitated, then finally lifted her hand and knocked softly.


    The door swung open almost immediately. Tasha stood there in her pajamas, eyes heavy with sleep, surprise flickering across her face when she found Ste on her threshold. “Ms. Russell? It is sote — you are still awake?”


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    Guilt shed through Ste’s expression. “Tasha, could I borrow your phone?”


    Tasha blinked, clearly not expecting this. She knew William’s rules about Ste contacting the outside world, and reluctance flickered across her face. “Ms. Russell, Mr. Briggs gave strict instructions that you are not to make calls without his permission.”


    Urgency crept into Ste’s voice. “I know, but I need to call Dr. Vance. William is injured and he will not let me help him. I am worried the wound will get infected. If you do not trust me, you can dial Dr. Vance yourself and simply hand me the phone.”


    Ste rarely asked Tasha for anything. The handful of times she had requested calls, they had only been to William or Jewell. At the mention of William being injured, Tasha’s entire body went rigid. “Mr. Briggs is injured?”


    Ste nodded quickly. “I do not know how it happened. But Tasha, you know I would not lie about something like this.”


    Moonlight painted Ste’s face in shades of pale worry, her eyes rimmed with red. That helpless, desperate expression stirred something in Tasha. She had witnessed theplicated, tension-filled dynamic between the two of them for weeks now — but the concern burning in Ste’s eyes right now appearedpletely genuine. If something serious happened to William…


    Tasha made her decision. She pressed her phone into Ste’s hand. “Ms. Russell, go ahead. Just keep your voice down.”


    Ste nodded her gratitude, epted the phone with trembling fingers, and quickly dialed Jewell’s number. As William’s personal physician, all the household staff kept Jewell’s work number for emergencies.


    The phone rang once, twice, three times. Each tone ratcheted Ste’s anxiety higher, fear creeping in that Jewell might not answer at all. After seven or eight agonizing rings, someone finally picked up.


    A voice heavy with sleep came through the speaker, words thick and muffled. “Hello? Who is calling?” The irritation in his tone sharpened as awareness returned. “Who calls at this hour?”


    Ste tightened her grip on the phone, her breathinging faster. “Dr. Vance? It is Ste.”


    Silence stretched across the line for several heartbeats. Then recognition hit, and Jewell’s sleepiness evaporated instantly. Rustling sounds suggested he had bolted upright. “Ms. Russell? What has happened? Why are you calling sote?”


    “Dr. Vance, I am sorry for the hour, but William is injured. There is a wound on his lower back and it looked deep. He will not let me anywhere near him, and I am terrified it will get infected. I did not know who else to call.”


    All traces of sleep vanished from Jewell’s voice, reced by sharp professional concern. “William is injured? When did this happen?”


    Ste had no answer to that. “I do not know when it happened. He came home tonight, and when I went to the study, I saw the wound. He had already showered — with an open wound.”


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