People couldn't reap benefits without bearing associated risks. It was clear Maurice orchestrated her kidnapping. And wasn't he Stephan's archenemy?

Felicia paused, weighing her options. Despite everything, she decided to subtly warn Stephan. "That day…"

Just as she began, a faint noise came from Stephan's side. The soft, syrupy voice from earlier—the one that had answered her call—spoke. "Stephan, dinner's ready."

Johanna gently opened the door, then, feigning surprise at seeing Stephan on the phone, quickly covered her mouth in apology. She tiptoed back out, quietly closing the door.

Stephan barely glanced at the doorway, but the icy sharpness in his eyes was unmistakable. Felicia, unable to see what was happening, lost her inclination to continue.

"Stephan, you sound busy. I need to dry my hair, so I'll hang up now."

She ended the call without waiting for a response. She plugged in her hairdryer and turned it on.

Stephan pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling slowly. Rising from the couch, he strode out of the ward.

In the adjacent VIP ward, Imogen lay in bed, her face pale and gaunt. Her once soft features were sharpened by exhaustion, her frailty evident. Her unfocused eyes stared blankly at the ceiling, her hands gently cradling her stomach. She sighed in relief only when she felt her baby's bump.

Johanna, her voice gentle and coaxing, had set a table full of food. "Imogen, don't cry. The baby's safe; that's all that matters. Rest and stay healthy."

"How can I not?" Imogen's reddened eyes brimmed with tears. "My brother nearly caused a miscarriage. How can I face Archie if something happens to our child?"

Johanna's expression darkened briefly at the mention of Imogen's late husband, but she quickly smiled, offering comforting words.

"Imogen, Stephan has been by your side since you were admitted. He's barely left the hospital and has handled company affairs from here. He feels terrible about what happened."

Her gaze flicked to the door where a tall figure stood silently. Pretending not to notice him, she playfully tugged Imogen's hand.

Imogen's anger softened. He was, after all, her only remaining family.

Seeing this, Johanna smiled and lifted the lid of a simmering pot. A fragrant aroma filled the air. "Imogen, I made chicken noodle soup. Do you want me to feed you?"

"I may be blind, but I'm not paralyzed," Imogen replied, taking the spoon.

"Okay, I'll let you enjoy it. I'll wait for Stephan to join us."

As Johanna turned to set the table, she acknowledged Stephan's entrance. His barely contained fury dominated the ward.

"Stephan…" Johanna's voice faltered as she instinctively stepped back. She quickly apologized, her tone soft. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to disturb you earlier… And about that call, I didn't mean to overstep."

Her voice was barely a whisper, but Imogen heard everything and sharply turned her head.

"What call? What happened?"

"It's nothing, Imogen. Don't worry," Johanna replied hesitantly.

Imogen's temper flared; she slammed the spoon into her bowl. Soup splashed onto the table.

"Tell me what happened! Now!"

"Imogen, please calm down," Johanna urged, feigning concern, her voice pleading. "Think about the baby."