<b>Chapter </b><b>239 </b>


    The next morning, I sat on the edge of my bed in Lawrence’s mansion<b>, </b>staring at the medicine ss in my hand. The thick, brownish liquid inside looked as appetizing as sewage.


    “Down it goes,” I muttered, tipping my head back and gulping the entire contents in one swift motion. The bitter, acrid taste assaulted my tongue, and I fought the urge to gag as the viscous liquid slid down my throat.


    “Here.” Ethan’s voice came from beside me as he pressed something small into my palm. “<b>It’s </b>candy. To kill the


    taste.”


    I popped the sweet into my mouth gratefully, the burst of cherry vor mercifully overpowering the medicinal bitterness. “Thanks,” I said, my voice slightly muffled.


    Ethan nodded, collecting the empty ss<b>. </b>“How’s the vision today?”


    “Still blurry,” I replied. The medicine was working.


    By the fourth day, I could make out moving shapes and strong light. I watched fuzzy silhouettes drift past my


    window, the Spanish sunlight streaming in with enough intensity that I could distinguish day from night.


    Two dayster, I was sitting in the garden when Ethan approached. The shadowy outline of his tall frame was bing more distinct. He waved his hand in front of my face, testing my vision, and I reached out, catching his wrist with surprising uracy.


    “Getting better?” he asked, a note of hope in his voice.


    “I can see a blurry outline now,” I admitted, releasing his wrist. “Still can’t make out details, but it’s something.”


    Ethan sat beside me, his hand finding mine. The warm pressure of his fingers around mine had be familiar over these past days. “Don’t rush it,” he said softly. “We have time.”


    But we didn’t<b>, </b>not really. Ethan had been away from hispany for too long. I could hear the strain in his voice during his daily calls with Connor, the mounting issues requiring his attention. If he hadn’t been here with me, I would have stayed until my vision waspletely restored – Lawrence’s mansion was secure, and I wasn’t concerned


    about Shadow operatives finding me here.


    ‘I want to go back to America,” I announced the next morning over breakfast. “Tomorrow, if possible.”


    Ethan paused, his coffee cup halfway to his lips. “Are you sure? Your eyes-”


    “Are improving,” I finished for him. “I’ll continue the treatment at home.”


    “I’d also like to take Zach back with us,” I added. “Human Zach, I mean.”


    “I thought you might want him to recover more fully here.<b>” </b>


    “He insists oning with me.” I shrugged. “And he’s stubborn enough to find his own way back if we leave him


    behind.”


    Ethan nodded, understanding. “I’ll make the arrangements.”


    Later that day, I found Lawrence in his study, ssical music ying softly as he read a book with his cat curled in hisp. The Doberman, Zach,y at his feet but immediately bounded over when I entered<b>, </b>circling me excitedly.


    “He’s grown quite attached to you,” Lawrence observed, scratching his cat behind the ears. “I think he’d like you to be thedy of the house.”


    “Is that so?” I smiled down at the dog.


    Ethan appeared in the doorway, leaning against the frame with crossed arms. “I didn’t realize Mr. Linden was fluent in caninemunication,” he remarked dryly.


    Lawrence smiled, unperturbed. “Dogs have excellent instincts.”


    “I’d like to take him with me,” I said, nodding toward the Doberman. “When I return to America tomorrow.”


    <b>“</b>Absolutely not.” Lawrence’s tone remained pleasant, but his refusal was firm. “Ten Crystal Vaults wouldn’t be enough for him.”


    The next morning, as we prepared to leave, the Doberman refused to be separated from me. He followed me from room to room, whining pitifully whenever I moved toward the door. When our luggage was loaded into the car, he slipped past Lawrence’s security and jumped into the vehicle, stubbornly refusing to budge.


    Lawrence stood on the driveway, arms crossed. “It seems he’s made his choice.”


    ‘I thought you said he wasn’t for sale at any price,” I reminded him.


    Lawrence sighed dramatically. “He’s not for sale. Consider him<b>… </b>on loan. A guardian to watch over you until your eyes fully recover.” His expression softened slightly. “Take good care of him.”


    I nodded, hiding my satisfaction. “I will.”


    –


    That evening, we boarded Lawrence’s private jet. Zach the human one – trailed behind us. The dog trotted happily alongside me, having won his battle to stay by my side.