A week after his fever broke, Alexander was back to his full strength—physically, at least. But something fundamental had shifted between them. Emily could see it in the way he watched her, in the intensity of his gaze when he thought she wasn't looking.
He hadn't mentioned his delirious confessions. Hadn't acknowledged the vulnerability he'd shown, the desperate pleas, the childlike fear of abandonment. It was as if those fevered days existed in some parallel reality that neither of them could quite touch.
Until the morning he called her into his study.
Emily found him standing by the windows, backlit by Hong Kong's morning light. He was dressed impeccably again—the ruthless CEO restored, no hint of the broken man who'd clutched her hand and begged her not to leave.
