Alpha's Private Plaything (Elsa and Drake Stone) novel Chapter 154

Chapter 154

A young nurse with kind eyes cleaned the wound, her touch gentle. As

she worked, she glanced at the door and then leaned dose.

I was there that night, the whispered, dabbing antiseptic that made

me hiss in pain. “When Dr. Green was trying to save your mother.”

My heart skipped, “You were?” I gripped the edge of the examination

table so hard my knuckles turned white.

he nodded, her voice dropping even lower.” He was focused on

stabilizing your mother.”

‘I didn’t know that, I murmured, guilt twisting inside me like a knife.

“That poisoned patient arrived by special flight,” she continued,

applying a butterfly bandage to my cut. “He came two hours earlier

than expected. Your mother was already prepped in the treatme

ment

room, waiting.”

“Dr. Green argued with hospital administration,” she interrupted, her

eyes darting nervously to the door again. “I’ve never seen him so

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angry. He insisted your mother should receive treatment first,

according to protocol. But there is only one piece of medicine.”

My mind raced, pieces clicking together like a grim puzzle. “Someone

interfered,” I whispered, the realization making me feel ill. My hands

began to tremble violently. “Holy shit… someone with enough

influence to override medical protocol.”

The nurse didn’t confirm or deny, but her silence spoke volumes. She

finished bandaging my wound and stepped back.

“This doesn’t feel right,” I said, more to myself than to her. My voice

was shaking now. “My mother should have had priority treatment. She

was already in the system, already prepped.”

“Special patients sometimes get special treatment,” the nurse said

carefully, her meaning clear.

My hands clenched into fists as rage built inside me, hot and

consuming. I said, my voice hollow. “Someone powerful enough to

demand preferential treatment. Someone like that fucking bastard

Drake Stone.”

Allen appeared in the doorway, his expression darkening when he saw

the bandage on my forehead. The wound was still seeping blood,

staining the white gauze with crimson spots.

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discreetly,” he said, his meaning clear.

I hesitated, torn between desperation and pride. After a moment, I

gave a small nod. “Thank you, Allen. I would appreciate any help you

can offer.”

Allen turned to face me fully. “What’s your next move?”

“I talked to a lawyer friend this morning,” I said, keeping my voice low

while nervously chewing my bottom lip. “He specializes in assault

cases. Says if Dr. Green signs a settlement agreement and drops the

charges, Oliver could get off with community service and probation.”

Allen nodded, his expression thoughtful. “That’s promising. Most

first–time offenders don’t serve jail time if the victim is willing to

forgive.”

“That’s what I’m counting on.” I sighed heavily, shoulders slumping as

I tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear. My hands were shaking,

slightly–they hadn’t really stopped since yesterday. “I have to try

again with Dr. Green. Oliver was upset and scared for my mother. It

doesn’t excuse what he did, but… shit, it makes it understandable.”

Allen’s eyes drifted to my forehead, his brow furrowing with concern.

“That looks painful. Did you get it properly cleaned?”

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“It’s fine,” I snapped, then immediately regretted my tone. I waved

dismissively, though the wound stung like hell. “Sorry. The nurse did

a good job. It’ll heal.” I ran my fingers through my tangled hair,

suddenly aware of how disheveled I must look.

He reached out, his fingers hovering near the bandage without

touching it. The gesture was surprisingly intimate, and I fought the

urge to step back, my pulse quickening unexpectedly.

“Oliver is your cousin, right?” he asked, dropping his hand.

“Yes, but…” I swallowed hard, a lump forming in my throat as

memories flooded back. I dug my nails into my palm, using the pain

to focus. “His parents died when he was eight. He’s lived with us ever

since. He’s more like my little brother than a cousin.”

Allen’s eyes softened. “That explains your dedication. Family is

everything.”

“Damn right it is.” The simple understanding in his voice made my

chest ache. “Oliver might be impulsive and hotheaded, but he’s a good

kid. He doesn’t deserve prison.”

We paused at a junction in the hallway, and Allen turned to face me

fully. “What’s your next move?”

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I glanced around frantically, making sure no one was within earshot, my eyes darting from person to person. “I’m meeting someone from

hospital management in about ten minutes,” I whispered, leaning closer. “Sophia–my friend who owns the café–she knows someone who works in administration. They agreed to talk to me, but they’re nervous about being seen.”

“Where are you meeting them?”

“The roof garden. It’s usually deserted this time of day.” I bit my lip

again, tasting blood.

Allen checked his watch. “I’ll come with you.”

“You don’t have to-” I started, wringing my hands.

“I want to.” His tone was firm but gentle. He reached out and

smoothed a strand of hair that had fallen across my face. “Your hair’s

a mess,” he said with a small smile. “You look like you’ve been

through hell.”

I probably had. “Thanks for the fucking compliment,” I muttered, though I found myself smiling too, a brief respite from the crushing

anxiety.

“Come on,” he said. “Let’s not keep your contact waiting.”

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The hospital roof garden was a small, neglected space with a few

withered plants and rusty chairs. Allen positioned himself near the

door, keeping watch while I approached a middle–aged man in a

pristine suit who stood by the railing, nervously checking his phone.

“Mr. Campbell?” I asked, my voice cracking slightly.

He jumped, then nodded. “Ms. Hale. Let’s make this quick.”

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