In front of The Northern Kitchen, Elizabeth navigated to the passenger side as Oliver exited and opened the rear door for her. Propped against the car, one hand resting on its polished surface, the other gripping his phone, Oliver instructed someone, "Grab the doctors and come straight to Bayview Villa."

Bewilderment flickered in Elizabeth's gaze. Was Elijah really insisting on a family doctor for what was hardly more than a minor abrasion? A dab of ointment and some rest seemed sufficient. Her indifference to the location of treatment was overshadowed by a more pressing concern: Elijah's potential anger toward Asher. Compliance felt like mere courtesy.

Without question, Elizabeth slid into the backseat. Next to her, Elijah was engrossed in a virtual meeting on his laptop. His usual serenity was replaced by intense concentration; the screen's light highlighted his sharp features. He exuded the presence of a natural leader, effortlessly commanding respect—a man who inevitably captivated attention.

Elizabeth diverted her gaze and sank further into her seat, just as Elijah snapped his laptop shut and unexpectedly reached out to straighten her clothing. Startled, she recoiled. Her loose, off-shoulder sweater, caught between his touch and her movement, slid down, revealing her chest. His fingers tightened on the sweater, his eyes lingering on her exposed skin before moving to the blush on her shoulder. Her eyes, rimmed with red, mirrored the vulnerability of a trapped deer—wanting to flee, yet too afraid. He seemed almost villainous.

He gently released her sweater, and she quickly adjusted it. "I'm fine," she whispered.

"In the future, choose your attire more carefully," he advised sharply, returning to his laptop.