Page 153 of His Forced Bride
"Someone got to Alina in the hospital. She's been poisoned."
Reaching for my clothes before my feet get out of bed, my heart starts to race.
Alina's been recovering following the attack on my showroom.
She should've been safe.
But my mother has found a way to reach her even there, to turn what should have been a sanctuary into another battlefield.
I'm dressed and moving before conscious thought takes over.
Yuri's men are already waiting by the car with engines running when we reach the foyer.
I'm thankful they stay awake all night to keep watch and be prepared for things like this.
My mother isn't content to destroy my business or steal my assets.
She's escalating to people I care about, proving that nowhere and no one in my life is safe from her reach.
The message is clear—surrender completely, or watch everyone I love suffer for my defiance.
St. Petersburg General Hospital buzzes with late-night activity when we arrive.
The ICU is on the seventh floor, accessible only through locked doors and security checkpoints.
I have no clue how anyone got to her except that they paid off hospital staff.
Still, I was the one who led my mother directly to Alina's bedside.
If I'd only known what she was up to when I invited her to meet me here last week…
The doctor who meets us is young, tired, and clearly intimidated by the security detail that accompanies our arrival.
He explains Alina's condition in clinical terms but his face is screwed up in frustration.
"The toxicology results are consistent with deliberate poisoning," he admits.
"The dosage was calculated to cause severe illness without immediate fatality. Whoever did this wanted her to suffer, not die."
So my mother didn't want Alina to die instantly or she'd be gone already.
I'm not sure how to take that.
The distinction is important because a dead friend would be a tragedy, but a suffering friend is a weapon she can use to push more of my buttons.
My mother wants me to see what defying her costs other people, wants me to carry the guilt of bringing this pain into Alina's life.
The doctor is still speaking but I turn toward the window into her room.
Through the ICU window, I can see my best friend connected to machines that monitor every function of her struggling body.
Her dark curls are matted against the pillow, her skin pale except for the flush of fever that won't break.
She looks fragile and I've never seen her like this.
She's always been the strong one, and now those roles have been reversed.
"Can I see her?" I ask, turning toward the doctor.
