Page 50 of Billionaire’s Ruin

I blinked, realizing half the ward probably heard me. My attempt to be discreet had gone completely out the window.

“I knew about this,” his voice softened.

“You knew?” A small, awkward laugh escaped before I could stop it. “What do you know?” My tone hardened—sharper, defensive. “Because patients… they don’t always know about their own bodies. Even when they think they do.”

He exhaled slowly, eyes soft but tired. “It’s my diabetes. I didn’t want you to worry.”

I froze, brows pulling together as I studied his face. “And…?” I prompted, waiting, needing more.

“And,” he continued, “the nurse said what she said probably because she didn’t want me to panic. Didn’t want us to panic.”

I nodded, then shook my head—because it made sense, but it didn’t feel right. Hospitals didn’t lie for comfort. They lied for convenience.

His words brought back the doctor’s earlier insistence that he stay for further observation. I’d thought it was just another money-making tactic—the hospital trying to keep their five-star ward filled. But now…

“I’m sorry,” the word dragged out of me like it hurt. “I think they might be right about that one.” My lips twisted in reluctant acceptance. “You may have to stay a little longer.”

Dannie’s stay might not be such a bad idea after all. It would give me more time—to think, to plan, to figure out a way to take over his case before anything slipped through the cracks.

“It’s okay.” His voice a surprising contrast to mine—light, almost cheery, like he hadn’t just had a near-death scare.

Unless… he had already figured it out.

“Apparently, their rooms are nice here.”

“Yes.” He scrolled through his phone with one hand, the IV line swaying slightly. “The nurse already showed me the available rooms.”

He turned the screen toward me—WhatsApp messages filled with glossy brochure-like photos the nurse had forwarded.

“Maybe I’ll stay in their Royal room.” His tone slipped into mock grandeur. “Fit for kings and queens?”

I snorted. “Fitting. You’re kind of like a king, in a way.”

He winked, clearly enjoying himself. “Oh, Luxe,” he continued, swiping again. “Though this one doesn’t have a French bidet.”

I rolled my eyes. “Tragic. How will you survive?”

“Wait—one more.” His thumb flicked the screen, and he stopped at another photo. “The Haven.”

I cringed instinctively. Haven Suite. The name alone made my skin crawl. Who in their right mind thought that was a good name for a hospital room? Haven sounded too much like Heaven, and people only went there when they didn’t come back. It might’ve worked for a spa—all candles and cucumber water—but for a hospital? A big, morbid no.

“Pick whichever you like,” I said, trying to sound casual. “I’ll get it. My treat.”

“No way.” He laughed, a low, warm sound that settled somewhere deep in my chest. “That would hurt my Asian man pride.”

I couldn’t help but laugh, too. For a moment, everything felt lighter again—almost normal. The tension that had been strangling my breath loosened, and my lungs filled easily, like calm had never really left me.

Whenever I was with Dannie, I could never stay angry or anxious for long. He had this strange, grounding energy—like a magnet that pulled all my stormy emotions out of me and left nothing but quiet in their place.

It almost didn’t feel human, that kind of calm. Like something magical, borrowed from another world.

And if fantasy novels had taught me anything, it was that, every gift came with a cost.

A power that gentle never came free.

I only hoped, selfishly, that if there were consequences… they wouldn’t fall on him.

“Actually, don’t pick the Haven Suite. It gives me bad juju.”