Chapter 11 #2
“I’m sorry,” Liam said quietly, but it didn’t sound like he meant it. “I wasn’t sure what he was to you—but I have a feeling Lincoln does. And honestly? I just don’t like the guy.”
“Gosh…” my voice rose before I could stop it. I never yelled at Liam. “Since when did you become so petty? I can’t believe you.”
“Petty, huh?” His mouth tightened. ”You think I care if he sleeps around with other women? I don’t.”
My breath hitched. Fuck. Liam said “fuck.”
He never swore.
“I’m sorry,” he added quickly. “I didn’t mean it. Please don’t be mad.”
Something salty burned at the corner of my mouth. Tears. I hadn’t even realized I was crying. God, maybe he was right. Maybe I was emotional.
“Calm down now, sweetie,” he whispered, voice softening.
“Liam…” The name trembled out of me. “I don’t know what to do. Please—” help me. The last words never made it out. But I knew he heard them anyway.
He straightened, the doctor mask slipping back into place. “Listen carefully.”
A bobble-like nod escaped me, ridiculous but automatic.
He took a deep breath before continuing, “Give me thirty minutes to sort out the hospital. After that, we’ll talk further about Kai. Think about whether you want Lincoln in this or not.”
Instead of watching the seconds tick by or pacing around the car park like a lunatic, I headed to the café near the main entrance.
The Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf. A familiar name. I used to stop by one just like it whenever I visited California—back when life felt simpler, predictable, when coffee was just coffee.
Without thinking, I ordered a regular latte. My voice sounded too calm, too casual for how knotted my insides were.
I watched the barista work—how she carefully poured the milk, then fumbled with the steaming wand, nearly dropping the espresso cup and splattering the counter. She gave a small, embarrassed laugh, and I almost smiled back. Almost.
Upstairs, lying in his Royal Suite, was Dannie.
My fake husband.
The man who had saved my life.
And then there was Kai Li.
Not my fake husband.
Not my anything.
But his life… his life mattered.
And there was nothing I could do. No resources. No power. No right.
Unlike Lincoln—who had security teams, bodyguards, private investigators at his disposal—I was just a doctor sitting in a café, waiting for her coffee.
Liam made it sound like I had a choice, but I knew better. If Kai was in trouble, Lincoln would already be on it.
He’d find a way to get involved, whether I wanted him to or not.
The question that twisted in my chest was… Should I put myself in that situation again?
He was going to marry Lucy.
He was someone else’s soon-to-be husband.
He was never mine, anyway.
He was not my problem.
The thought should’ve made me feel free. Instead, a cold current rippled through me, like a bucket of ice water poured down my spine. My stomach twisted, sharp and nauseating.
Liam didn’t know what kind of situation Kai was in—and worse, he didn’t care enough to ask. He disliked Kai too much to even feign concern.
If I really wanted answers, I’d have to go to my other brother.
Was Kai kidnapped? God, I hoped not.
Rich men have a habit of getting themselves into ridiculous, dangerous situations. But in China? With their surveillance systems? It seemed unlikely.
Was he hurt? Injured? That felt more plausible. But Kai would have had the best doctors around him if that were the case. Unless…
Unless he was sick.
No. That didn’t make sense. He’d been fine when I left him. Perfectly fine. He never mentioned any illness. Unless he’d lied to me.
My mind spun through possibilities like a broken carousel.
Maybe Lucy had dumped him.
Maybe he’d run off.
Maybe—
I shook my head, letting out a soft, humorless laugh. “God, June, you sound insane,” I muttered under my breath.
The barista handed over my latte, giving me a hesitant smile, as if she wasn’t sure whether to offer sympathy or call security. I must’ve been wearing every emotion on my face for the world to read.
I checked the time. It had taken her ten whole minutes to make my coffee. In New York, people would’ve burned the place down by now.
By the time my phone buzzed, Liam had already moved mountains. The meeting with the director was set.
Eagerly, I headed to the main reception. Dato’ Hor’s assistant escorted me through a quiet hallway that didn’t appear on any hospital map. Dato’ Hor’s office wasn’t listed in the directory either—discreet by design, apparently.
When I asked why, she chuckled softly. “Security measure,” she said. “Some patients—or their families—don’t take bad news very well. At my age, I prefer peace to confrontation.”
Only later did I learn that Dato’ Hor was no ordinary administrator. She was a world-renowned heart surgeon who had once lectured at my brother’s university—briefly covering a course while a professor was on maternity leave.
Dato’ Hor’s late husband had founded the institution fifty years ago, and though her children now lived in Australia; none had followed their parents’ path in medicine. The timing of Liam’s call couldn’t have been more perfect.
She’d been ready to retire, but no buyer had ever felt right.
“The hospital is like my child,” she said with a wistful smile. “I can’t hand it to someone who only sees numbers.”
Liam’s offer—over asking price, fifty-one percent of shares—gave her what she wanted: a chance to step back, yet still keep watch. She would remain on board for five years as a supervising consultant, ensuring that her legacy was safe before handing over the rest.
When she heard urgency behind our request, I couldn’t lie to Dato’ Hor. Not a woman like her, with those calm, knowing eyes that seemed to draw the truth right out of you.
She offered a soft, grandmotherly expression that disarmed every defense I had.
The kind of smile that made people confess their fears, their sins, their secrets.
Not only did she not judge me for the impulsive decision—I could tell she understood exactly where I was coming from.
It was, after all, the very reason she and her husband had started their own clinic years ago.
They wanted the freedom to practice medicine their way, to push boundaries and pursue research without bureaucracy or interference.
And if she hadn’t made that choice, she might never have tested the technologies and techniques that made her one of the best in the world.
What followed our meeting was an informal handover. Nothing had been signed, but Dato’ Hor trusted us—trusted me—that we would honor our end of the deal.
With Dato’ Hor by my side, we toured the facility as she introduced me to the people who truly ran the place: the administrators, the senior nurses, the head of operations. I was genuinely impressed by how smoothly everything functioned.
The takeover had been rushed and unplanned, giving them no time to prepare, yet everything was in order. For the first time that day, I felt the heavy guilt in my chest start to ease.
Dato’ Hor offered to introduce me to the physicians currently on duty, but I declined.
It wasn’t necessary to disturb their rounds.
Instead, we made a special trip to the attending physician in charge of Dannie’s case, and I made it clear to the team that they were to assist me in any way I requested.
After that, she excused herself gracefully, joking that she could finally enjoy her well-deserved afternoon tea with her best friends.
Once she was gone, I wasted no time. With the authority she had unofficially given me, I gathered the team and ordered a full panel of tests and scans for him.
Not all of them were strictly necessary—but I wanted to be thorough.
I needed to know everything. Better to overdo it than risk missing something that could cost him his life.
By the time I finished reviewing the arrangements and finalizing orders, it was late afternoon. I finally allowed myself a breath and walked to his room.
He was sitting up in bed, remote in his hand, flipping through channels. “Hey,” he said with a grin. “They’ve got Netflix here. Can you believe it?”
I shook my head, then nodded as I remembered what Dato’ Hor had told me: every ward—from the cheapest to the most luxurious—had full in-room entertainment and dining service.
“Yes,” I said softly. “Did you find something nice to watch?”
“Nope,” he said, eyes twinkling. “You’re much nicer to look at. And by the way… quite the noise you made today.”
My brows furrowed. “You heard?”
“The nurses were gossiping about you,” he said with mock seriousness. “The young, pretty, American doctor who’s about to take over the hospital.”
“Are you sure?” I tried to smile. “People rarely say anything nice about their bosses.”
But even as I joked, my mind was already spinning through the next dozen things I had to do.
“Honey,” he said quietly, his voice pulling me back. “Did you go through all this trouble for me?”
Awkwardly, I met his gaze. “Was it that obvious?”
He reached beneath his hospital gown and pulled out a small box—tarnished on the edges but unmistakably precious.
“Do you think,” he asked softly, “I still have a chance?”