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Lorenzo clenched his jaw, rage simmering under his skin. “What the hell is going on?” he growled, snatching his phone off the table and shoving it into his pocket.

He turned, leveling Xander with a glare sharp enough to cut steel. “Dig it out. Recover the damn footage. I don’t care how much time or money it takes—I want to know who the hell drugged me last night.”

“Yes, Mr. Moretti,” Xander said quickly, turning to leave.

“Also,” Lorenzo called out, stopping him mid-step, “find out who the woman was. The one who actually slept with me.”

Xander froze, eyebrows rising in confusion as he turned back.

Lorenzo’s expression had grown tense. “It’s possible that the woman I slept with two years ago wasn’t Esther.”

Shock flickered in Xander’s eyes. For two years, Lorenzo had done everything for Esther. Supported her. Protected her. If what he suspected was true...

Before either of them could say more, Lorenzo’s phone rang. He answered with a furrowed brow.

“Mr. Moretti,” Dr. Lyle’s voice came through, rushed and anxious. “Ms. Esther’s condition suddenly worsened. She had seizures. I thought you should know.”

“I’ll be there,” Lorenzo said immediately, hanging up and storming out of the hotel.

***

At the hospital, Lorenzo pushed past the doors, storming into Esther’s room. A doctor stood by the bed, placing sensors on her forehead. The moment Lorenzo entered, the man turned to face him.

“Mr. Moretti,” Dr. Lyle greeted.

“How is she now?” Lorenzo asked, his voice low but heavy with tension.

“She’s stable for now,” Lyle said, exhaling. “But this morning, she was fine. Then suddenly, convulsions, a rapid spike of clots in her blood. We managed to counteract it with meds, but…” He paused. “I’m concerned. This isn’t normal. The clots in her bloodstream keeps increasing without any known cause.”

Lorenzo’s eyes flicked to the frail figure on the bed. Esther stirred, then slowly sat up, her hands trembling as she propped herself against the pillow.

When he stepped closer, she reached for his arm, her fingers cold and weak. “Lorenzo,” she whispered, her voice cracking as tears slid down her cheeks, “do you think... I’m not going to make it?”

“You’re going to be fine,” he said gently, resting a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “I’ll bring in the best doctors. You’ll get through this.”

She pulled on his arm, making him sit beside her on the bed. Her eyes searched his face, filled with quiet desperation.

“I can feel it,” her voice dropped to a faint whisper. “I don’t have much time left. Can you… can you please grant me one last wish?”

He stared at her, tense. “What is it? Just tell me.”

“You always promised to take responsibility… for what happened between us that night. You said you’d be there for me. So, can you please…” She hesitated, her voice barely audible. “Can you marry me? Even if it’s fake. Even if it’s just… in front of God. I just want to feel like a bride before I die.”

Lorenzo froze, his body stiffening. His jaw tightened as he stared at her, the weight of her words heavy in his chest.

After a long silence, he muttered, almost absentmindedly, “We’ll talk about it when you’re better,” he said quietly, forcing a small smile. “Let’s focus on getting you well first, alright?”

Esther gave him a weak, fake smile and nodded, though her eyes dimmed with disappointment.

Lorenzo walked out of the room, tension written all over his face. He ran a hand through his hair, breathing unevenly. Pulling out his phone, he called someone.

“Michael. Meet me for drinks in an hour.”

***

Krystal walked out of the bathroom, towel in hand as she dried her hair. Picking up her phone, she noticed a missed call from Damion. She called back.

“Hello?”