KIMBERLY POV
Leonardo didn't return for a week, leaving me alone in this room with nothing but my thoughts and memories.
I couldn't sleep—every time I closed my eyes, images of Lan and my father drifted in, like ghosts I couldn't escape. I stared at the ceiling until it blurred. My tears had run dry days ago, but the ache lingered, heavy and dull.
With a sigh, I got up and stretched. Staying confined made no sense. Leonardo forbade me from roaming freely, but what was the point of this so-called tour if I stayed locked inside?
Dressed in a pair of bum shorts and a faded T-shirt, I doubted anyone could call me provocative. Slipping through the door, I wandered outside, craving air—freedom. The night was cool, the sky stretched wide and endless above me. For a moment, I let my guard down, tilting my face toward the stars.
Then, I heard it.
A loud screech tore through the stillness, and my stomach dropped.
Leonardo. He's back.
Panic twisted in my chest. There was no way I could slip back inside without him seeing me. My heart thudded wildly as I pressed myself against the wall, hoping the shadows would swallow me whole.
Leonardo's POV
Exhausted, I stepped out of the car, longing for a shower and sleep.
Enzo kept close by my side as we approached the mansion, the others trailing behind us. I didn't have the energy for distractions—not tonight.
Then, I saw it—a shadow shifting against the wall.
I stopped in my tracks, raising a hand to halt my men. They tensed, their hands instinctively going to their weapons. I nodded toward the figure, and we moved in silence, guns drawn.
Everything happened in a blur. The figure tried to turn, but she stumbled—her head connecting hard with the wall. She fell backward with a gasp.
"Kimberly.!"
My pulse spiked. What the hell was she doing outside, and dressed like this?
"Ouch!"
she whimpered, rubbing her forehead, her eyes narrowing in pain and frustration.
I reached out to help her up, but she shot me a defiant glare and stood on her own, brushing dust off her clothes. Her skin glowed under the dim light, smooth and unblemished.
My jaw tightened as I noticed my men staring a little too long. "Inside," I snapped, my voice sharper than I intended. They filed in without protest.
Kimberly followed, clutching her head but ignoring me. I turned to Helen. "Take care of her injury. If she needs a doctor, let me know."
There were more pressing matters to handle—someone had leaked the location of one of our warehouses to a rival. As the door closed behind them, I rubbed my temple. A headache was creeping in, and I headed to the kitchen for some green tea, hoping for a moment's peace.
********
I doubt if I had slept Two hours when frantic knocking woke me. Enzo burst through the door before I could respond.
I raised a brow at him, already bracing for bad news.
"Sir, she's burning up!" he said, breathless.
"She?" I didn't need to ask. I already knew. "Kimberly."
"But why...?" My words trailed off as I threw on my pants, leaving my shirt behind. I followed Enzo through the dim hallway toward their room, my mind racing.
When I entered, I found Kimberly sprawled on the bed. Helen was there, gently rubbing her skin with a wet cloth, her face etched with worry. Kimberly's pale complexion looked eerie, almost lifeless, as though the blood had drained from her veins.
The sight hit me harder than I expected, stirring something deep inside— "a memory I'd buried long ago."
The cold sheen of sweat on her brow. The damp cloth sliding across her skin. My mother had looked the same once, feverish and helpless in the final days. I shook the thought away with a tight breath, forcing myself back to the present. " I couldn't go down that road again."
I touched Kimberly's forehead, and heat surged through my fingers. "Burning."
"It's too late to call a doctor," Enzo muttered. Helen looked up at me, waiting for instructions.
"We'll have to do this ourselves." I stepped closer, brushing the damp cloth from Helen's hand. "Prepare some pepper soup," I told her. "She'll need it when she's more conscious."
Helen nodded and hurried out, leaving me alone with Kimberly.
I dipped the cloth back into the basin and began to wipe her arms and neck, the cool water barely enough to fight the fire under her skin. As I worked, my hand lingered at her shoulder, brushing lightly against the soft curve of her breast. "I should have pulled away."
But I didn't.
She didn't stop me—not that she could, given how weak she was—but a flicker of guilt twisted in my chest. If she had the strength, she would've slapped my hand away. The thought made me smile despite myself. Feisty as ever."
Helen soon returned with a steaming bowl of catfish pepper soup. She set it down carefully. "I deboned the fish," she said, glancing at Kimberly. "That should help."
"Thanks." I lifted Kimberly into a sitting position, her head lolling against my chest.
"She felt too light in my arms, as if she'd been carrying the weight of the world without letting anyone notice."
I spooned the soup into her mouth slowly, and to my relief, she ate without protest. But just as I offered the last spoonful, her body stiffened, and before I could react, she coughed violently.
The entire bowl came back up, spilling across her lap.
"Oh my goodness" Helen gasped, moving to clean it.
I held up a hand. "I'll take care of it."
Kimberly let out a small, frustrated sigh, her lips parting as if to apologise. Her eyes met mine, hazy with exhaustion but filled with regret. I shook my head, brushing a damp strand of hair from her forehead.
"It's fine," I murmured. "Don't worry about it."
Without a second thought, I scooped her into my arms. She made a feeble attempt to protest, but it died on her lips as she sagged against me. Her frame felt so small, so fragile, it made something twist painfully in my chest.
"I hated how light she felt."
I carried her to the bathroom, cleaned her up, and helped her into fresh clothes before settling her in another clean room. By the time I laid her on the bed, she was already drifting off, her breathing shallow but steady.
"Thank you," she whispered, so faintly I almost missed it.
I tightened my hold on her for a second longer than I intended. " I wasn't supposed to feel this way." But as I covered her with the duvet and turned on the warmer, I knew it was too late to stop it now.
I stood by the door for a moment, watching the rise and fall of her chest. Then, with
a frustrated sigh, I slipped into the hallway.
The whole affection. It was never part of the plan.