"WHAT–THE–HECK!!!" screeched Cyan, the slim bodyguard with long, silky black hair tied neatly at the back. His sharp voice bounced off the walls, startling Mira so badly that she instinctively buried her head deeper into Leo's chest.
The sudden intrusion made Leonard Wayne's jaw tighten. He looked up, his gaze burning with irritation at the three figures who had barged in without knocking. His voice dropped, low and dangerous.
"Didn't I order you not to disturb me until I needed your presence?"
It was not an idle rebuke. His tone carried the weight of authority—authority inherited from a family that had ruled both business and people for decades. But the three men were not ordinary bodyguards who trembled at a glare. These were the Wayne family's most trusted shadows—professionals molded by grueling years of discipline, secrecy, and loyalty. A teenager's scowl, even from the heir, could not easily shake them.
One of them, Sylo—the largest among them, with a broad chest and hands that could crush steel—stepped forward without hesitation. He placed a basket brimming with fresh fruits onto the gueridon table at the center of the room, the heavy wood creaking slightly under the weight.
"Young Master Leon," Sylo began, his voice calm and deep, "we received word that your mother has left City B. She discovered you defied her request to remain in the private hospital. She is on her way here."
At once, Leo's anger flickered into something else—a spark of excitement. His lips curled, not into a smile, but into the kind of expression that spoke of a challenge accepted. His dark eyes glinted as he looked past Sylo, at Jay and Cyan, who still lingered by the door. Their rigid postures had softened into sly grins.
"Jay. Cyan." Leo's voice carried both command and mischief. "The moment she enters this city, I want to know. It would be… a shame if she lost her composure in front of people."
The two guards exchanged a knowing look before bowing slightly and slipping out, their long coats brushing against the polished floor. Sylo remained.
Leonard lowered his gaze, returning his attention to the fragile figure trembling against him. Mira's small hands clenched the fabric of his shirt, as though letting go would send her crashing back into despair. Slowly, carefully, he lifted her chin so that her tear-streaked face met his. His hand, cool yet gentle, patted her head before brushing a stray lock of hair from her eyes.
"I wish we could continue our conversation, dear," Leo said softly, the hardness in his tone melting away. "But with this matter at hand, I'll have to let you go."
He reached for a handkerchief, delicately wiping away the tears that clung to her lashes. Then he slid her gently off the bed, smoothing the wrinkles in her dress with an almost fatherly precision. Taking both her hands into his, he spoke with quiet firmness.
"Promise me you won't think of that… absurd thing you mentioned earlier. Do your mother a favor by loving your father and your aunt. She'll be proud of you, watching from up there." He pointed upward, his meaning clear.
Sylo who lingered in silence was stunned. The young master—infamously aloof, cunning, sharp-tongued—showing tenderness? It was an image no one would believe without seeing.
Sylo said to himself "If the family saw this scene, I swear that they would hurry off to see a shaman. It's unnatural."
Mira blinked up at Leonard, her lips quivering into the faintest smile. Slowly, she extended her little finger. "I promise," she whispered.
Intrigued, Leo raised his brow, watching as she hooked her pinky around his. The childish gesture seemed to soothe her, and for a brief moment, the storm inside her subsided. He realized she had truly calmed down. It would never erase her grief, but the promise symbolized something—her first step toward moving forward.
"Good," Leonard murmured, his voice unusually gentle.
He turned toward Sylo, handing Mira carefully into his massive arms. "Take her to her father. Make sure she's safe. I need to rest before Mother arrives."
Sylo bowed, steady and obedient. Mira looked back one last time as she was carried out of the room. Her eyes lingered on Leonard, who sat back against the pillows, his IV drip still feeding into his hand. For all his sharp edges, she realized he wasn't as cruel as she had thought. In fact… she might even miss him.
When the door closed, silence reclaimed the vast room. Leonard exhaled deeply, staring at the ceiling. His mother's wrath loomed on the horizon, and he knew the clash that awaited him would be far more exhausting than any physical ailment.
Meanwhile, Sylo carried Mira down the long corridor. He had already learned about the girl from subordinates stationed throughout the hospital. Yes, their Young Master was the son of Donovan Wayne, head of one of the nation's most powerful dynasties. The Wayne name commanded both reverence and fear.
It had started with George Wayne, Leon's grandfather, who built the foundation of their empire. But it was Donovan who had elevated it to unparalleled heights, wielding influence across industries and politics alike. Still, for all of Donovan's shrewdness, even he could not rival his son's natural cunning.
George had recognized it early—when an eleven-year-old Leon, barely tall enough to sit at the boardroom table, dissected the flaws of a business deal with such precision that seasoned executives were left speechless. Since that day, George's favoritism had been clear: Leonard was more than an heir; he was a prodigy. It was why bodyguards shadowed him everywhere, why even hospitals were laced with invisible security nets. He was the Wayne family's future.
Now, Sylo delivered the girl back to her reality. At the ward door, he set Mira gently on her feet. Without a word or backward glance, he disappeared down the hall.
Mira swallowed hard, staring at the door. She knew what awaited her inside. No more illusions, no more hoping. Just as Leo had told her, she had to make her mother proud by moving forward—with her father and aunt, her only remaining family.
She knocked softly and pushed the door open.
Inside, her father sat slumped in a chair beside the hospital bed, where a white sheet covered the still form of her mother. The air was thick, heavy with grief.
"Dad?" Her small voice cracked.
Nick's head jerked up, his weary eyes widening. He did not want to ask her for her whereabouts or to caution her. His daughter stood there, trembling, tears streaming freely now. She bolted across the room and into his arms.
He embraced her tightly, patting her head, as her sobs broke through her apologies. "I-I'm sorry… I'm so, so sorry!"
His throat constricted. Earlier she had rejected him, preferring the comfort of her mother's presence even in death. Now, her desperation broke his heart.
"I'm sorry too, sweetheart," Nick whispered hoarsely. "Sorry I wasn't here. Sorry I couldn't be with you and your mom. Work kept me overseas… but no more. I'll quit my job. I'll stay with you. Always."
Tears blurred his vision. He thought of Katherine—his beloved wife who had borne her illness in silence, never telling him of the tumor that consumed her brain. By the time his sister Joy informed him, it had been too late. He had begged the doctors for surgery, but the risks had been too high. And now… all that remained was regret.
The door creaked open again. Joy entered, her face pale with worry. She had been frantic, prepared to involve the police when she couldn't find her niece. Seeing Mira safe in her brother's arms, her tears spilled freely.
"Where did you find her? Is she alright?" she cried, rushing forward.
Nick shook his head gently. "She came here on her own. And yes… she's okay now."
They wept together, the three of them. The only task left was to bid Katherine a proper farewell—and for Nick to honor his vow of being the father his daughter needed.
On the road again.
Far from City F's hospital, Leonard reclined in the backseat of a sleek black car, Sylo at the wheel. He had weathered his mother's fury, finally conceding to her demand to transfer to the prestigious private hospital in City B. Still, he knew her temper never lasted long where he was concerned. After all, he was her pride and joy.
Yet his thoughts were elsewhere. He remembered the little girl who had stumbled into his room and, without realizing it, disarmed him. She had drawn out emotions he never knew he possessed. Even with his younger sister Cece, a loud and mischievous girl, he had never shown such gentleness.
"Sylo…" he said suddenly, eyes fixed on the passing city lights.
"Yes, Young Master?"
"How's Mirabelle?"
Sylo glanced at him through the rearview mirror before answering. "She's with her father now. From what I gathered, Nicholas Brown plans to relocate with her to City D."
"City D…" Leo muttered. His mind painted the picture—rolling hills, vast farmlands, villages untouched by the clamor of modern cities. It was quiet, humble, and far removed from the sharp edges of his world.
Perhaps that was what she needed. A place to heal. A place to start again.
He leaned back, closing his eyes. She had made him a promise, and though they belonged to different worlds, he found himself hoping she would keep it.