"I don't need the title of Witch Doctor to make a woman grateful," Baron said flatly—and hung up. When he walked back into the suite and pushed open the bathroom door, the steam still swirled in the air… but Natalie was gone. Her clothes were gone too. Baron let out a low, amused breath. He tossed the towel aside and stepped straight into the shower. Meanwhile, Natalie didn't fully relax until she'd stepped out of the hotel's revolving doors. If she hadn't slipped away while he was on that call, she honestly didn't know how she would've survived that overbearing man. Not that it mattered. They were two strangers crossing paths. He'd fade from her life soon enough. Back home, Natalie locked the door, powered off her phone, and dove under the covers, dead to the world. And when she woke? She was still Natalie—tough, stubborn, impossible to kill. At the hospital, right after Jensen had Sharon wheeled into the ER, his phone buzzed. “Mr. Luke," his assistant said, "the police reviewed the surveillance footage Ms. Natalie submitted. They've confirmed it's authentic. It's been archived. Whether a case is filed is now up to Ms. Natalie." Jensen's grip on his phone tightened until the plastic creaked.So it really happened. Flashes of Natalie from five years ago tore through his skull—her broken body, her hollow eyes, the agony that had nearly swallowed her whole. Guilt twisted deep in his chest, sharp and merciless. There was no denying it. Sharon had crossed an unforgivable line. "…Transfer the villa Natalie's living in to her name," he ordered. "Once the deed is ready, bring it to me yourself." The assistant hesitated. "You mean the villa Ms. Natalie is currently occupying? That one's worth a hundred million." "Less talking. Just do it." Jensen hung up. The Summers family had treated Natalie like disposable trash simply because she had no one to protect her. But now that Sharon's actions had come to light, he would make it right—at least the parts he could. That villa had once been what he imagined as their future home. Now it would belong to her. Completely. Maybe—just maybe—it would soften her anger. As that thought crossed his mind, Quincy and Jordan rushed into the hospital corridor. “Mr. Luke, how's our Sharon?" Quincy's eyes were swollen red, glued to the emergency-room sign.Jensen stared at her, ice running through his veins. He remembered her malice toward Natalie—the cruelty, the casual hatred. He pulled his arm away. "The doctors just went in. It'll take time." His eyes narrowed. "But Quincy… maybe worry less about Sharon fainting and more about the video of you whipping Natalie that's now in the police system." Quincy collapsed a step backward. “Mr. Luke—those videos are fake! We didn't—" "I'm not stupid and I'm not blind." His voice hit like a blade. "When the police archive something, it means the footage is real. So yes—I believe it. You people were the ones who beat Natalie within an inch of her life five years ago." Quincy trembled so hard she had to grab Jordan's arm. "You can't abandon us like this! Sharon's life is hanging by a thread. Do you really want her thrown in jail because of Natalie?" Jensen's jaw clenched. For a moment, a flicker of softness passed through his eyes. "If it weren't for Sharon's health, I wouldn't even be talking to you." He lowered his voice. "This happened at a public product launch. There were cameras everywhere. The moment the footage landed with the police, the story became impossible to bury completely. Even if Natalie forgives you, the world won't. If you want Sharon safe… find someone willing to take the fall." Quincy crumpled in Jordan's arms, sobbing. Before she could say another word, the ER light switched off and the doctor pushed Sharon out on a stretcher.“Doctor! How's my daughter?" Quincy rushed forward, Jensen right behind her. The doctor sighed. “Ms. Summers was already in poor health. Emotional distress triggered the fainting spell. The cancer has metastasized. From now on, you must keep her stress levels extremely low." "My poor girl!" Quincy clung to Sharon, crying uncontrollably. Jensen's brows drew tight. "Use the best medication. The best doctors. Whatever it costs—save her." "Yes, Mr. Luke. We'll do our best." Sharon was wheeled to a private room. Two hours later, she slowly opened her eyes. She stared blankly at the sterile white ceiling—until Jensen's face came into view, and everything hit her at once. "Jensen… did I pass out again?" Her lips trembled. "My body's such a mess. What did the doctor say? Am I… dying?" Tears streamed down her cheeks. Jensen sat beside her, letting her cling to his sleeve. His voice softened until it almost broke. "You're not dying. I won't let that happen. I've already sent people to find the best doctors in the world. No matter the price, I'll keep you alive." "Jensen, I don't want to die… I really don't…"She threw herself into his arms, shaking, sobbing. Jensen held her gently, patting her back. But in his mind… all he could see was Natalie's back—the crisscrossed whip scars, the pain stitched into her skin forever. He opened his mouth, wanting to confront Sharon. But no words came out. Sharon cried herself to sleep against him, still gripping his jacket like a frightened child. Carefully, he slipped out of the coat, letting her cling to it, and stepped out into the hallway with his phone. "I don't care what it costs—bury everything about the launch event. Use every connection. I don't want a single word about Sharon getting out." "Understood, Mr. Luke. But… what about the news confirming Ms. Natalie as Sunny?" "Suppress that too," Jensen snapped. "If Sharon can't have the title, then Natalie can wait." The assistant hesitated. "Sir… that might be difficult. Too many socialites were there. We can't silence all of them. And the man who helped Ms. Natalie—we still can't identify him. If he decides to speak out… what then?"