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He straightened, his entire body tensing with rage.

“Get every man on it. Hunt her down. I want her in front of me!”

Silence followed. The sound of retreating footsteps echoed faintly as they walked away.

Krystal’s fingers curled tightly into her palm. Her chest ached, even though she tried to suppress it. ‘He really loves Esther,’ she thought bitterly. Her stomach turned. ‘He’s ready to turn the world upside down for that woman. How loving.’

Suddenly, the door slammed open.

She jumped with a startled scream.

But it wasn’t Lorenzo. It was Darren.

He barged in, looking around in a panic.

“Oh my fucking god,” Krystal exhaled in relief, stepping out from behind the door.

Darren’s eyes widened. “What the hell happened?” His gaze locked onto the bandage on her cheek, panic rising. “I saw him carry you into the car—your face was covered in blood. I followed you guys here.”

She peeked past him, scanning the hallway. “Where is he now?”

“I don’t know. He and that guard of his went storming off somewhere, talking like they were planning a war.”

Krystal pressed a hand to her chest, trying to calm herself, then turned to Darren. “It’s nothing,” she muttered, gesturing to her injury. “Esther tried to hit me with a vase.”

“What the hell?!” Darren snapped. “Didn’t you go there to treat her illness?”

“That’s the thing.” Krystal rolled her eyes. “She’s not sick. She’s been taking pills that cause blood clots to fake a condition. She even tried to pay me to keep quiet about it. I refused, so she flipped the script and tried to frame me.”

Darren’s brows furrowed with anger.

"I always wondered why there was such a huge reward for just a little illness," he muttered. "Now I get it. Turns out, there’s a reason no one can cure it.

“It’s risky to stay here now,” she whispered urgently, stepping closer to Darren. “Esther told Lorenzo I was just a fake doctor—and now he’s hunting me down across the entire damn city. I can’t stay in Manhattan anymore. We need to leave.”

“We’ve got money now.” Darren gave a quick nod. “He already paid us half in advance. That’s enough to get out and go wherever you want.”

“Great. Cash it in.” She looked around, her voice lower. “Tomorrow is Grandpa’s retirement party. I need you to prepare a gift for me. Right after the party, I’ll finalize the divorce with Lorenzo, and we leave.”

“I’ll make the arrangements,” Darren said, already turning to walk away when she grabbed his arm.

“Keep an eye on Esther,” she said, her voice sharp. “Make sure she doesn’t pull anything again and try to blame it on me.”

“Got it.” Darren gave a short nod and started walking with her.

“You’re not staying? You’re not waiting for him to come back?” he asked, noticing her keeping pace beside him.

“Am I out of my mind?” She raised a brow. “Why would I wait for him?”

Darren chuckled under his breath, and within five minutes, the two of them had slipped out of the hospital unnoticed.

***

The car slowed to a stop in front of the Moretti mansion. The estate was decorated lavishly. Music echoed from the house, a lively garden party unfolding in the backyard. Guests flocked to tables set with food and drinks, laughter mingling with the soft clinking of glasses. The long driveway snaked through the lush gardens, bringing them closer to the towering mansion lit up for Grayson Moretti’s retirement celebration.

Lorenzo stepped out first. His navy blue suit hugged his broad shoulders. He walked over to the passenger side and opened the door, offering his hand.

Krystal took it and stepped out carefully, holding up the hem of her gown. It was one she already had—something she’d taken from his house long ago. She hadn’t bought anything new on purpose, not wanting to raise suspicion that she had money.