The pressure from the upcoming mid-term business evaluation—the test that would truly determine the senior protégé—drove Robert to a breaking point. She ran on coffee, minimal sleep, and the sheer terror of failure. The tight chest binder was a constant, crushing weight against her lungs.
David, meanwhile, was aggressively pursuing Amelia. He took her out to expensive restaurants, attended her social functions, and talked about her to his father. He was deliberately constructing a life that validated his identity, desperately trying to prove that the confusing pull toward his roommate was just stress.
Yet, the plan was failing.
David found himself constantly annoyed by James. He'd walk into the suite to find James making "Robert" a high-protein shake, or see them laughing quietly over a shared analysis of a logistics report. It wasn't the content of their friendship that bothered David, but the sheer closeness.
Why do I care that they're friends? David would ask himself, slamming his car door a little too hard. They're just two guys. I have Amelia. Amelia is real.
But Amelia's conversation felt shallow, and her ambition, though appealing to David's father, was transparent. When he was with her, he felt stable. When he was near Robert, he felt electricity. And when he saw James touch Robert's shoulder with quiet familiarity, a hot, visceral spike of jealousy shot through him. He couldn't rationalize it, and the very existence of the feeling drove him further into Amelia's conventional orbit.
The climax of Robert's exhaustion came late one Friday night. She had spent ten grueling hours at the company's supplementary study lounge, deep in a complex corporate law case, trying to find the flaw Ethan would miss.
As she gathered her papers, the room started to spin. The air felt thin, and the pressure on her chest was suddenly unbearable. Not here. Not now, she pleaded silently.
She stumbled out into the quiet, deserted hallway, aiming for the nearest elevator. But halfway there, the world went dark. Her knees buckled, and she pitched forward, the thick, heavy study materials scattering across the polished floor.
A figure emerged from the shadows of an adjacent office. It was James. He had stayed late, keeping his silent vigil, sensing Robert's punishing schedule was about to break her.
He rushed over, immediately recognizing the danger. Robert was unconscious, her face alarmingly pale, lips faintly blue. James gently checked her pulse, then, without hesitation, carefully slipped his hand under the layers of her shirt to feel for any broken ribs.
His breath hitched.
Beneath the tunic, beneath the undershirt, was the rigid, unforgiving fabric of the chest binder. It explained the shallow breathing, the constant stoicism, and the averted gaze. It explained everything.
James did not react with shock or disgust. He reacted with cold, protective speed.
He quickly pulled the shirt down, concealing the truth. He recognized the signs of exhaustion and restriction. He knew he couldn't call the main emergency services; the discovery would be immediate.That is an excellent correction and a much smarter move for the plot!
Having the doctor come to the dorm keeps the situation contained and allows James to maintain the lie of his ignorance, which is critical for building his future trust with Robert/Emily. It also keeps the stakes high and confined.
We will revise the end of Chapter 12 and the beginning of Chapter 13 to reflect this.
Chapter 12: The Collapse of Control (Revised Ending)
...
James pulled out his phone and made a single call. "It's James. I need your personal team, Dr. Chen. ASAP. Discreetly. The patient is Robert Lucas. Extreme exhaustion and mild respiratory distress. Do not bring him to the hospital. Bring him here, to the dormitory suite—now."
He lifted Robert's slight, unconscious body into his arms. She was impossibly light. He carried her back to Suite 3B, moving with urgent stealth. He placed her gently on her bed, covered her with a blanket, and then quickly gathered the scattered papers from the hallway, erasing all evidence of the collapse.
When Dr. Chen arrived ten minutes later—a small, trusted man who handled discreet services for the wealthy—James intercepted him in the living room.
"Extreme fatigue, Dr. Chen. He pushed himself too hard for the mid-term test. I found him in the hallway," James explained, his voice low and firm. He led the doctor to the bedroom door, then stopped. "He's very modest. He has a history of respiratory issues. Do not remove his undershirt. Just do a surface check, oxygen, and IV fluids. Say it's severe stress."
Dr. Chen nodded, used to the strange demands of his clients. As the doctor prepared his equipment, James briefly lifted the blanket to check on Robert's condition. He was completely alone with her.
James gently reached under the pillow and found what he knew was there: the tight, restrictive chest binder. He looked at the pale, vulnerable face of the woman he loved, then carefully pulled the covering back down.
He knew her secret. He knew her mission. And he knew, with chilling certainty, that he had to protect Emily—even from the truth of his discovery