Lance carefully took the bed from the nurse, guiding Addison into the VIP room. The room was large, decorated with a touch of elegance that made it seem more like a luxury hotel than a hospital room. Lance gripped the handle of the bed, slowing his pace as he took in the surroundings. He studied the room closely, inspecting every corner, every inch of space. His eyes missed nothing. He was searching for any possible risks. Running Johnston Enterprise had taught him to be vigilant, given their army of competitors. He'd been through too many close calls during his business trips to ignore any potential danger. This wasn't one of his own company's facilities, and Lance couldn't be sure about the level of security here. Ensuring Addison's safety in this room was now his responsibility. After a thorough inspection, Lance allowed himself to relax, at least a little. He also couldn't help but admire the simplicity of the room's design. There was something calming about it—simple and elegant. For some reason, a random thought popped into his head. This place's style is a perfect match for a person like Addison. It was clear that she would be content here. Everything about the space seemed perfectly suited to her tastes. As he stood there, his thoughts drifted back to the times when Addison had lived at the Johnstons' place. He remembered her sitting by the fire in the living room, wearing a plain white gown. Her gown was as simple as the room he now stood in. She would sit in a wicker chair, knitting blankets while the flames of the fire flickered beside her. She had made those blankets for him, but he'd always used his busy work schedule as an excuse to come home late. The later he came home, the longer she stayed by the fire. She would sit there, waiting, until the fire burned out completely. Only then would she get up, her movements slow, and head to her room. He remembered watching her from his car, seeing her walk away in solitude. Even when he came home earlier, he avoided going inside. He let her stay by the fire, alone. Because he didn't want to face her. He spent his time avoiding her, wasting it rather than being with her. And he valued his time a lot. It showed just how deep his distaste ran. He sat in his car, watching her retreat, before stepping out, emotionless, and walking into the house. The next morning, there would always be a blanket neatly folded on his side of the bed. The blanket was always perfectly arranged, warm and comforting, just like Addison herself. Even though he had stayed out all night, she still showed him that care.Now, as he thought back on those days, his fists clenched in frustration. He wanted to slap himself. When he'd seen that blanket in the morning, his first reaction had been to feel ... annoyance. A deep, unshakable annoyance. Lance couldn't quite place where these feelings were coming from. It was as though, back then, Addison had clung to him like an old, worn-out blanket. No matter how hard he tried to shake her off, she wouldn't let go. In his frustration, he had ordered the servants to throw the blanket out, without a second thought. He couldn't even bring himself to touch it. Regret washed over him, and he pressed his lips tightly together. How could he have been so cold? His hands shook as he looked down at Addison, lying still on the bed. She looked so fragile, so small. Her arm, pale in the soft light, appeared delicate. Before he could stop himself, Lance found his fingers curling around her slender arm.The difference between their sizes was striking—his large hand gently holding her tiny one. It felt so soft, so fragile, like it might break if he wasn't careful. A frown furrowed his brow, his eyes dark with the thoughts swirling in his mind. Such a delicate wrist ... She must have been exhausted from making that blanket. What had she thought as she waited for me to come home? Had she been upset with him, frustrated by his late hours? Had she wondered if he was out with someone else? Lance shook the thoughts away. This was Addison. She had loved him so much back then. She would never think like that. No, she was probably just worried about him. She must have been anxious, wondering if something had happened, if he was in trouble, if he'd been hurt. She had always been so foolish—foolish enough to care for someone who didn't care for her.Lance closed his eyes, frustration building as he tried to push those thoughts aside. But when he opened them again, the sight before him made his heart drop. Leon had taken Addison's arm from him and was gently placing it on the bed. Leon caught Lance's gaze but showed no sign of concern. He continued his task, a hint of challenge in his tone. "What are you doing, just standing there?" Leon asked, his voice casual, yet sharp. He had walked in and immediately noticed Lance frozen in place, deep in thought. Perfect timing to take Addison from this rude man. Lance's jaw clenched. His eyes never left Leon's movements. His chest tightened with anger. Hadn't it been enough for Leon to grab her hand? Now he was holding her? This was getting out of control. Does he really think I'm chopped liver? "I'd appreciate it if you respected some boundaries," Lance spat, forcing himself to stay calm. But, hidden from view, his hands were balled into tight fists, as if ready to strike. Leon didn't even acknowledge him. Instead, he waved for the nurse to come over, as if Lance were invisible. "Can I see Angel's medical report?" Leon was a doctor, too, and needed the report to understand Angel's condition more clearly. The nurse noticed Lance's tense expression immediately. His face was hard, his mood clearly dark. She had already moved to hand Leon the report, but upon seeing Lance's look, she pulled her hand back quickly, shaking her head. "I'm sorry, but I can't give it to you." Leon's frown deepened. The nurse knew the unspoken rule—when Mr. Johnston smiled, she handed over whatever he wanted. If he frowned, she knew to be cautious. "Ms. Daves' anesthesia hasn't worn off yet. She's not likely to wake up anytime soon. Mr. Johnston, you might need to stay with her for now." The nurse had dealt with enough situations like this to know exactly what to say to smooth things over. Lance's clenched fists relaxed. He gave a short nod, his tone softer now. "Alright. You're dismissed." The nurse nodded and quickly left the room. The silence that followed was heavy. Leon remained by Addison's side, adjusting her blankets and gently wiping her face. His movements were steady, never pausing. Lance stood in the doorway, watching him silently. The longer he watched, the more his frustration grew. Minutes passed, but Leon showed no sign of leaving. Finally, Lance snapped. Despite his status as the doctor from the Daves, despite his background, he couldn't stand seeing this man so close to Addison. His brow furrowed, and with quick steps, he moved toward Leon. If this rude man wasn't going to leave on his own, Lance would make sure he did.He didn't care about the consequences, even if it meant upsetting the Daves. That didn't matter now. As long as Leon stayed near Addison, Lance couldn't calm down. This was his wife. No one else had the right to be this close to her, especially not in front of him.