His fingers curled around the edge of the hospital blanket, frustration boiling inside him. The thought of Reginald shifting his authority to Damian made his blood pressure spike.
Dominic ripped off his oxygen mask. "Father, I'm fine. I'll be discharged in two days. Damian isn't in great shape either—his leg still gives him trouble. Don't overburden my dear nephew."
Reginald stood up, his expression firm. "No, the decision has already been made. You're staying in the hospital until you fully recover, and Damian will return home with me."
"Yes, Grandpa." Damian rose from his seat, gripping his cane as he steadied himself.
Reginald wasn't senile—far from it. He had a strong grasp of what had gone down the previous night. The internal struggles within the Blackwell family had been brewing for a long time.
As Damian and his men exited the room, Elena instinctively stepped aside, making herself inconspicuous.
