After listening to William's explanation and piecing together the fragments of last night's horror, the haze of panic and confusion finally began to clear. His warm, steady voice, laced with an unexpectedly light tone, worked like a balm, helping Anna relax—if only slightly.
Her mind was a whirlwind of questions, but one stood out above the rest. "What are you doing here?"
William chuckled, the soft rustling of fabric growing louder as he shifted in his seat. "Really? That's what you want to ask me right now?"
He had a point—it was a ridiculous question given the circumstances. But she couldn't help it. The words had slipped out before she could think them through. Parting her lips, she scrambled to find a reasonable excuse for her curiosity, but William spoke first.
"Let me ask you something instead," he said, his voice losing its teasing melody. "Who did you cross to end up like this? Was it your husband? Did he piss off the wrong people? Or was it your aunt? Does she still gamble like a maniac?"
Anna bit her tongue, the weight of his words pressing down on her. She had no logical answer—at least not one that made sense yet. Marienne had drugged her, that much she was sure of. And the man who had kidnapped her had said Marienne wanted her dead.
But why?
She already knew Robert was divorcing her, and Aunt Lilian had erased her from the family registry. She had no wealth, no power, nothing of value to offer.
So what was Marienne's motive?
"It was my husband's mistress," Anna finally admitted, her fingers tightening around the fabric of the duvet. "Marienne Rochester. She drugged my drink when I was at the Diamond Hotel, and when I woke up, I was... well, where you found me. The man who took me said she hired him to kill me."
William's jaw tensed as his gaze settled on the stark white bandages covering her face. His pulse quickened, his patience thinning. "And why would she do that?"
Anna exhaled softly, shaking her head. "I really don't know. My father never left a will when he passed, so everything that once belonged to me is in Robert's hands. My aunt, Lilian, controls the Adler family's assets. There's no financial gain in my death—Marienne would get nothing by killing me."
William fell silent, his mind piecing together the fragments of her story. He had already mulled it over himself—no one would go to such lengths just for the sake of hatred.
Even if Marienne despised Anna, murder wasn't something one could orchestrate without consequences. No amount of money could completely erase a crime like that.
Anna believed she had nothing of value, but William was convinced otherwise. Whether Marienne was acting alone or had Robert's support, there was a hidden motive behind this, and now, more than ever, he needed to uncover what it was.
"Think again," he said, his brows knitting together. "Are you absolutely sure your father left no will?"
"No," Anna murmured, shaking her head once more. "My father died suddenly in prison. He never had time to take care of something like that—I don't think he ever expected to die so soon. And even if he had written a will, he had already given all his money to Robert. There wouldn't have been much left for me anyway."
The room fell into a heavy silence, both of them lost in their own thoughts. William's dark eyes remained fixed on Anna's bandaged face, a quiet storm of emotions stirring inside him—bitterness, frustration, and an unsettling sense of déjà vu.
He couldn't hold back any longer. "What are you going to do now?"
The question was simple, yet it weighed on the air between them. Anna lowered her head, her voice barely more than a whisper. "What can I do? I have no one to turn to. Just look at me... Honestly, I should have just let him kill me."
William's hands clenched at his sides, his jaw tightening as a sharp surge of anger coursed through him. He understood her—she was broken, desperate, drowning in fear. But it infuriated him that she didn't even want to fight. That she was willing to surrender to the cruelty that had been forced upon her.
He exhaled slowly, forcing himself to push past his frustration. No. It wasn't that he couldn't help someone who refused to fight for themselves. It was that he didn't want to help someone who had already given up on their own life.
With a heavy sigh, he rose from his seat and finally spoke. "I've covered all your hospital bills for now. Any future expenses will be charged to my account, so don't worry about that." He hesitated for a brief moment, his gaze lingering on her frail form.
I hope you change your mind. The words echoed in his head, but he swallowed them back.
Instead, he simply said, "Take care."
Grabbing his damp, bloodstained jacket, he turned on his heel and walked out of the room, his chest feeling just as heavy as it had when he first stepped inside.
As William walked out of the hospital, a familiar voice rang out behind him.
"Mr. Stark!"
He turned just in time to see Daniel, his personal assistant, rushing toward him. The man looked slightly flushed, clearly out of breath from running around for the past few hours.
"God, I almost lost my marbles looking for you!" Daniel huffed, stopping a few feet away and placing his hands on his hips. "Where the hell is your phone? Why aren't you answering my calls?"
William reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, tapping the screen to check. Sure enough—unresponsive screen. He sighed. "The battery died."
Daniel groaned in frustration. "That's why I keep telling you to carry two phones at all times!"
"Whatever." William's frown deepened. "What did you want?"
Daniel gawked at him, incredulous. "What did I want? Are you serious? I get off the plane and the first thing I hear is that you're in the hospital! What the hell could've happened to you so fast?"
William ran a hand through his tousled brown hair, suppressing a yawn. Exhaustion was starting to creep in, weighing down his limbs. "It's a long story… Let's just say I helped a friend."
Daniel's eyes narrowed with suspicion. "A friend?" His voice dripped with doubt. "You don't have friends here. Who was it?"
William exhaled sharply, irritation flaring. "Anna Hyde."
Daniel blinked, then tilted his head slightly. "Oh? That can't be right."
William's brows furrowed. "What do you mean?"
Daniel reached into his backpack, pulling out a sleek tablet before quickly unlocking the screen. With a serious expression, he handed it over to William.
"Take a look at this," he said, his tone grave.
William took the tablet, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the screen. A news article was open, the bold headline glaring back at him:
"Anna Hyde Found Dead in Diamond Hotel Room Just an Hour Ago."
"What?"