Chapter 523

Chapter 522:

“Alright. I’ve got you.” He lifted her, gathering her against his chest with a strength that shouldn’t have been surprising but was. “We’re going inside. The doctor is already on his way p>

“I don’t need a doctor. I need ice, I need p>

“You need a doctor.” He carried her through the lodge, up the stairs, and into the master suite she had been quietly avoiding. He laid her on the bed with a tenderness that made her want to cry. “And you’re going to let him treat you. No arguments p>

The doctor arrived within minutes — a compact man with kind eyes and efficient hands. He examined the ankle, pronounced it a severe sprain rather than a break, and produced a small bottle from his bag.

“For the pain,” he said, handing two pills to Justin along with a glass of water. “A strong anti-inflammatory and analgesic. It will likely make you drowsy. The best thing for a sprain like this is rest. It’s been a stressful few days, Mrs. Collins. Your body needs it p>

𝖳𝘩e 𝗯𝖾s𝘵 r𝗲𝘷𝗂е𝘄𝗌 𝘰𝘯

Carmen wanted to refuse. The words were on her lips — she didn’t trust sedatives, didn’t trust sleep, didn’t trust anything that stripped away her control. But the pain was overwhelming, and Justin was holding her hand, and she was so tired. So desperately tired of fighting.

“Alright,” she whispered.

Justin helped her take the pills. The relief wasn’t immediate, but came as a slow, creeping warmth that started in her stomach and spread outward, softening the sharp edges of the pain and of the world. Eventually, everything grew distant and finally, finally quiet.

She was in an office.

Not one she recognized. Dark wood and leather, the smell of old money and older secrets. A desk the size of a small car, behind which sat a man with cold blue eyes and gold wire glasses.

Conrad Sterling.

“Sit down, Miss Golden.” He didn’t look up from the file he was reading. “We have matters to discuss p>

Carmen sat. Her body obeyed without conscious direction, folding itself into the leather chair with the automatic compliance of long practice.

“Your uncle,” Conrad continued, “has been a very naughty boy. Offshore accounts. Shell companies. Tax evasion on a scale that would make Al Capone blush.” He looked up and smiled, and the expression made her stomach clench. “The FBI has been building a case for two years. They’re quite eager to make an arrest p>

“I don’t—” Carmen’s voice was barely audible. “I don’t know anything about p>

“Of course you don’t. You’re an innocent. A student. A girl in love with the wrong man.” Conrad stood, moved around the desk, and perched on the edge in front of her — close enough that she could smell his cologne, that woody, expensive scent that had triggered her panic at the reception. “But innocence won’t save your family, Miss Golden. Only action will p>

“What do you want p>