?Chapter 1183:


    Someone had executed their n directly beneath his watchful gaze, and now that mysterious nurse had be his primary target.


    What devastating secret had Stan possessed that someone deemed worthy of murder to protect?


    Did this connect to the shadowy figures who had taken Hailey?


    Had Stan identally uncovered knowledge so threatening it had sealed his fate?


    Regardless of the specific truth, one fact crystallized with brutal rity—this conspiracy ran far deeper than he had ever conceived, and finding that elusive nurse represented his only path to answers.


    ine’s gaze hardened into cial steel, cold enough to freeze blood in veins.


    Meanwhile, Alex burst through the front entrance of his opulent vi and staggered inside. He copsed onto the buttery leather sofa, every ounce of energy drained from his exhausted frame.


    The polished, sophisticated gentleman he had presented to Sadie had crumbled away entirely, leaving only raw desperation in its wake.


    His face twisted into a thunderous scowl as he tore the silk tie from his throat, seized a crystal bottle of aged whiskey from the mahogany cab, and pressed it directly to his lips.


    The liquid fire scorching down his throat failed to quell the tempest raging within his chest, so he tilted the bottle again, his features growing darker and more menacing with each swallow.


    At that precise moment, Egan Palmer, the usuallyposed butler, exploded through the doorway with panic written across his weathered features. “Sir, we’ve got a serious situation!”


    Alex lowered the whiskey bottle slowly, deep furrows carving themselves into his forehead. “Just tell me what’s happened.”


    Alex wondered grimly what catastrophe could possibly eclipse the devastation of Sadie’splete rejection.


    Egan delivered the crushing news with professional efficiency— their operative stationed at the hospital had just reported that Stan had experienced an unexpected surge of consciousness and awakened from hisa.


    The revtion mmed into Alex’s sr plexus with the devastating force of a heavyweight boxer’s finishing blow.


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    The crystal bottle tumbled from his nerveless fingers, striking the rug with a muffled impact as expensive whiskey soaked into the intricate fibers. He rocketed upright from the sofa, shock and disbelief etched into every line of his pale face like a grotesque mask.


    Alex’s mind reeled with furious questions— how had that worthless Stan managed to regain consciousness when death had seemed inevitable? And more critically, had he revealed any of their secrets?


    “Give me theplete status report immediately—did he manage to speak?”


    Egan’s eyes fell to the floor as his voice descended to barely above a whisper. “You can rest easy, sir. Our operative reached him before any damage could be done— Stan never uttered a single syble before his heart stopped permanently.”


    Relief flooded through Alex’s system like morphine, and he copsed back onto the leather cushions as his legs gave way beneath him.


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