Chapter 180 Hundred And Eighty

• ARIEL’S POV
• I woke up lying on a bed I didn’t recognize. The sheets smelled faintly of new furniture, air, not the familiar scent of Ryan’s skin, not the warm traces of home. My chest clenched immediately, panic clawing through me, until my eyes focused and I saw Marcel sitting by the window.
• He was speaking quietly to a woman in a crisp uniform, a nurse, maybe. His tone was calm but authoritative, the same commanding undertone Ryan used, except softer, careful, as though he was shaping the world with patience instead of force.