Empre 

Chapter 96 

The treatment room in Adam’s villa glowed with its usual soft light rene closed the door behind them, already slipping into doctor mode despite the warmth lingering from watching Adam Interact with her children. 

Adam rolled to his usual spot, automatically pushing up his sleeves as he settled in for their routine. He glanced up, expecting to see Irene grabbing her equipment, but caught her studying him instead, her eyes narrowed in assessment. 

“Changing things up tonight,” she said, setting her medical bag aside 

Adam cocked an eyebrow. “No gear today?” 

“Not yet.” Irene moved closer, her white sneakers silent against the bor. “First I need to check how your legs are responding to treatment, see if we need to adjust our approach.” 

Something about her tonight felt different–her focus sharper, more intent than usual. She dropped to a crouch beside his wheelchair, eyes already scanning his legs with clinical interest. 

“How exactly do we check?” Adam asked, his tone carrying genuine respect beneath the question. 

Irene didn’t answer. Instead, she leaned forward, her slender fingers delicate yet somehow radiating strength–pressed against key points on his thigh. Each touch calculated, methodical as she tested the muscles beneath. 

Feel anything?” she murmured, gaze locked on his leg. 

Adam’s thigh muscles tightened involuntarily beneath her fingertips. His breath caught–an unexpected reaction that blindsided him. Something like a faint electrical current skimmed across his skin, awakening sensations dormant for months. 

What cosmic joke landed me here? he mused silently, wrestling his features into neutrality. The contradiction wasn’t lost on him–the man who’d built impenetrable walls around his personal space now sat still while this woman’s hands mapped his body, unable to voice even a whisper of protest. 

Taking his silence as a negative, Irene shifted her fingers several inches higher, pressing more firmly against his thigh. 

“There!” Adam blurted, sucking in a sharp breath that stopped her cold. “I felt that.” 

Irene’s head snapped up, her dark eyes meeting his, waiting silently for details. 

“Just above the knee,” he explained, voice steadier now. “And here- he gestured toward his inner thigh, “-a bit higher. Can you press there again?” 

She nodded, fingers finding those spots with 

uncanny 

accuracy. 

“This spat registers pressure,” Adam reported, focusing on clinical observations to distract from the awkwardness. “This one feels tingly. The rest are still…” 

The next fifteen minutes passed in concentrated silence as Irene methodically tested various points on both legs. Adam for himself watching her work–noting how completely she transformed when immersed in her craft. The woman who rolled he his stubbornness vanished, replaced by someone laser–focused, almost reverent in her attention to detail. 

Eventually Irene back on her heels, a small sigh escaping her lips. The tight lines around her eyes softened, satisfaction 

briefly replacing 

clinical mask. 

“Better than you expected?” Adam asked, catching that flicker of approval. 

es at 

1/3 

Chapter 96 

“Much.” One word, but it canned weight. Irene reached for her portable treatment kit, unzipping it with practiced ease, 

With a quick flick of her wrist, she unfolded her equipment–precision instruments gleaming under the room’s soft lighting. She selected a small device, her expression shifting into total concentration as she positioned it against his leg. 

“New technique?” Adam asked, noticing she’d placed the device differently than before. 

“Yeah.” Irene adjusted the angle slightly. “I’m targeting an area most loctors wouldn’t touch. Her eyes flicked up to his briefly, “Don’t move. One wrong twitch now could mess up our entire treatment plan. 

“Got it.” Adam went perfectly still, though his eyes remained fixed of her hands, captivated by their steady movements. 

The small monitor beside them flickered to life as she activated the device, Rhythmic wave patterns danced across the screen- meaningless to most, but Adam’s analytical mind recognized the precision in those patterns, the careful calibration that signaled extraordinary control. 

The areas Irene had tested earlier began tingling more distinctly as the treatment progressed. Adam found himself genuinely impressed with her technique–not just the skill itself, but the confidence with which she wielded it. 

Minutes ticked by. Adam spotted beads of sweat forming along Irene’s hairline. Tiny droplets collected at her temples while her attention remained unwavering. Her breathing had shifted–quicker, shallower now. 

His brows drew together, a rare flash of concern crossing his usually guarded features. His gaze lingered on her concentrated profile, the slight furrow between her brows. A sudden urge to help her–to do something, anything–caught him off guard. His fingers twitched slightly, an unconscious response to an unfamiliar impulse. Adam Haven, who rarely concerned himself with others discomfort, found himself oddly bothered by hers, 

Adam’s hand dipped into his pocket, retrieving a folded handkerchief before he’d fully formed the thought. He leaned in, his touch unexpectedly tender as he blotted the moisture from her brow. 

The gesture shattered Irene’s focus. Her hands stilled momentarily, eyes flashing with rare vulnerability. The composed doctor vanished for a heartbeat–replaced by a woman completely blindsided by this simple act of care. 

Adam caught that flicker in her eyes, the brief moment her walls came down. For a split second, he worried he’d crossed a line- broken some unspoken rule between them. But Irene didn’t pull away or scold him. Instead, he glimpsed something soft and unguarded in her expression before she reclaimed her composure. Relief mingled with an unexpected satisfaction, warming his chest in a way he wasn’t entirely comfortable examining. 

Yet even as surprise flickered across her face, Irene’s hands stayed steady on the equipment. Like a musician playing through distraction, her medical instincts remained intact. One device completed its cycle, and she smoothly transitioned to the next, her movements flowing without hesitation. 

Her mind had no space to analyze what had just happened. The neural pathways she was stimulating demanded every ounce of her concentration–one misstep could erase weeks of progress. But somewhere beneath her conscious thoughts, something shifted: the line between them had blurred again, another step beyond doctor and patient, toward something neither had named. 

The delicate procedure demanded her full attention, sparing her from dwelling on the moment. As her hands moved with expert rhythm, neither of them régistered the sleek car gliding into Adam’s driveway, nor Samantha stepping out, her determined stride cutting through the garden’s soft illumination.