Regret hit her like a rising tide, cold and suffocating. Rose stared at the closed door of her office, imagining Samson’s stalwart figure usually standing guard there, ready to act as a shield against any storm that came her way."He didn't betray me," Rose whispered, her voice hoarse with suppressed emotion. "On the contrary, he was protecting me from my blindness."Rose wiped a stray tear from her cheek. She couldn't afford to be weak now. The documents before her were undeniable proof that her father was walking towards a precipice, and only she could pull him back before it was too late. However, she also knew that Emran was no ordinary adversary. If the man had the audacity to forge state documents, he wouldn't hesitate to take more desperate measures if backed into a corner.Rose pressed the intercom on her desk. "Indah, is Samson still there?""I heard he’s still standing in the lobby, Miss," Indah replied. "Should I call him up?""No, leave him be for now. Please make me some

The vast office lobby felt suffocating to Rose, despite the soft instrumental piano music drifting from the corner of the room. From a distance, she caught a sickening sight: Emran was laughing intimately with Baskoro. Her father was patting Emran’s shoulder with pride, as if the man before him were the dream son-in-law who had just won the lottery.Rose took a deep breath, forcing a faint smile onto her lips. She glanced at Samson, who walked two paces behind her. He had returned to being a cold shadow with a stoic expression, his gaze fixed straight ahead, as if their intimate conversation in her office had never occurred. However, Rose knew that beneath that black suit, Samson was watching Emran’s every move with the instincts of a predator."Ah, here is my favourite daughter," Baskoro exclaimed upon noticing Rose. "What a coincidence that Emran is here. He wants to celebrate the successful negotiation for additional land this morning. Let’s have lunch together."Emran stepped forw

Rose disconnected the call, her hands still trembling—but this time, it wasn't from fear. It was an overwhelming sense of relief. She quickly wiped the remaining tears from her cheeks and fixed her appearance. She had to maintain her composure."Indah," Rose called through the intercom."Yes, Miss? You sound... better?" Indah asked tentatively."I have to leave immediately. Keep my departure a secret. No one must know I’ve left. You’ve cancelled all my appointments for this afternoon, right?" Rose asked."I have, Miss. If I may ask, where are you going?" Indah asked with some hesitation."I’m going to a clinic, Indah. Do not let anyone into my office," Rose commanded."Understood, Miss." Indah obeyed without further questions.As Rose stood up, her phone vibrated with an incoming message.“Rose, I’ve taken the informant to a small clinic on Xxxx Street. He’s injured.” That was the message Samson had sent her.Rose immediately deleted the text after memorising the address. She grabbed

"We have to get her to the trauma room immediately, Sir! Her condition is critical!" the paramedic shouted while pushing the gurney in a frantic rush."If you know the patient, you can act as her guardian and handle the registration," another nurse instructed, directing Samson towards the administration desk."What happened to Bianca? Was it that man again? Did he hurt and abuse her once more?" Samson’s mind raced with dark thoughts."Sir," the nurse called out, snapping Samson out of his trance."Ah, yes. Alright," Samson replied.He stepped towards the administration desk, his mind in total disarray. The image of Bianca’s blood-stained face was seared into his memory. As he began to fill out the forms, he realised he knew nothing of her true identity—who her parents were or where she came from. He had met her by chance while helping her on the street, and this was only their third meeting.Ultimately, Samson filled in his own details and identified himself as Bianca’s distant uncle,

Upon arriving at the General Hospital, Samson bypassed the elevator. He sprinted up the emergency stairs towards the third floor, where the neurosurgery recovery ward was located. In front of the automatic sliding doors, a middle-aged doctor with a surgical mask hanging around his neck was reviewing some medical charts."Doctor? I’m Samson, Bianca’s guardian," Samson panted, out of breath.The doctor turned, peering at Samson through thick spectacles. His expression was unreadable—flat and professional. "Follow me to my office, Mr Samson."Their footsteps echoed through the silent hospital corridor. As soon as the office door closed, Samson couldn’t hold back. "How is she, Doctor? Was the surgery successful?"The doctor let out a long sigh and gestured for Samson to sit. "Technically, we successfully removed the hematoma—the blood clot—that was pressing against her brainstem. The bleeding is under control."Samson felt a slight weight lift from his shoulders. "Thank God.""But," the d