Irina's POV
"Mr. Floryn, conserve your energy. Alexander will arrive shortly. Allow him to manage this situation. After all, this concerns Brent family matters," Wilson spoke with an icy edge that seemed to escape his own awareness.
He coughed several times before slowly raising his head. Blood stained his pristine white shirt, and crimson droplets clung to his hair tips, sliding down his forehead.
His delicate features appeared almost fragile, creating an oddly mesmerizing appearance.
I finally pulled my attention away from Javion and turned toward Wilson. Seeing his condition, I raised my eyebrows and approached him. "Your condition is already precarious—why are you attempting to involve yourself in this chaos?" I asked gently.
"Because you're here," Wilson replied. "You're my physician. If harm comes to you, who will treat me?"
I shook my head in exasperation and pressed the sachet I carried into his palm.
"I don't need it," Wilson objected.
