Dahlia's POV
Walking into the hospital room, I stopped dead in my tracks. Cobb sat beside my mother's bed, methodically peeling an apple with surgical precision, the fruit knife glinting under the fluorescent lights.
My mother watched him with the kind of maternal pride I hadn't seen in weeks, her pale face actually glowing with happiness.
The moment my footsteps echoed across the linoleum floor, Cobb's head snapped up. His dark eyes burned with an intensity that made my skin crawl.
"Dahlia, why didn't you tell me about your mother's condition?" His voice carried that familiar edge of accusation wrapped in false concern.
I crossed my arms, letting the chill settle into my voice. "Cobb, what exactly are you doing here?"
"I kept calling your phone. When you wouldn't answer, I contacted your mother directly." He shrugged, attempting to look contrite, but I caught the calculating gleam in his expression.
