In the VIP hospital room, the air was thick with the scent of fresh laundry and a faint hint of antiseptics. Nathan stood in front of a small mirror mounted on the wall, buttoning his crisp white shirt with deliberate care.
He'd spent far too long cooped up in this place. The beeps of monitors and the sterile white walls were already driving him crazy. His shoulder still throbbed from the gunshot wound, a dull ache that reminded him of the chaos at the Drago estate, but he ignored it. He was done being a patient.
Behind him, his secretary, Leo, with his glasses and a perpetually organised clipboard, held Nathan's suit jacket at the ready.
Leo cleared his throat, adjusting his tie. "Sir, where exactly are you heading? The doctors recommended at least another day of rest. Your wound isn't fully healed."
Nathan smirked, his fingers working the last button.
"Where do you think, Leo? I'm going to look for Elias. What else would I be doing?"
