Dr. Evans pulled out a syringe of local anesthetic. He tapped the plastic barrel with his finger to remove the air bubbles.
He warned Cordelia in a calm, clinical voice: "There will be a sharp pinch."
The needle pierced the sensitive skin right around the wound. Cordelia flinched violently, her breath catching in her throat.
Damien's grip on her hand tightened instantly. His thumb stroked her knuckles in a slow, rhythmic motion to ground her.
He glared up at Evans and warned in a low, dangerous voice: "Be gentle. Or I will break your fingers."
Evans rolled his eyes internally. He maintained a professional, unbothered exterior, focusing entirely on the wound.
The anesthetic took effect quickly. The sharp, burning pain around the stab wound dulled into a heavy numbness.
Evans threaded a curved surgical needle. He prepared to close the deep laceration in her shoulder.
He began the first stitch. He pulled her skin taut with a pair of metal medical forceps.
Cordelia watched Damien's face. She noted the extreme, painful tension pulling at his brow and the corners of his mouth.
She realized with a sharp pang of guilt just how deeply her reckless actions affected his emotional state.
Evans finished the final knot. He snipped the excess black thread with a pair of small surgical scissors.
He applied a thick, sterile white dressing over the sutured wound. He taped it down securely to her skin.
Evans packed up his trauma kit. He gave Damien strict, clear instructions: "Change the dressing twice a day. Keep it dry. Antibiotics every eight hours. Watch for fever."
Damien dismissed Evans with a sharp, curt nod: "Fine. Go." He did not take his eyes off Cordelia's pale, exhausted face.
Evans exited the room. He pulled the heavy double doors softly shut behind him.
The massive bedroom fell into a heavy, emotionally charged silence. The only sound was Cordelia's shallow breathing.
Cordelia tugged weakly on Damien's hand. She pulled his attention down to her eye level.
She looked up at him with wide, vulnerable eyes. She broke the tense silence between them.
She asked: "Damien... spread the rumor that Scarlett tried to assassinate me. For the Montgomery inheritance."
Damien's eyes narrowed slightly. He analyzed the cold, calculated nature of her request.
He realized she was actively trying to destroy Scarlett's reputation in New York high society.
A flicker of dark, predatory approval flashed in his eyes. He remained suspicious of her sudden change, but he liked her ruthlessness.
He nodded slowly. He promised her: "By morning, Scarlett will be utterly ruined in this city."
Cordelia let out a soft sigh of relief. Her eyelids grew incredibly heavy from the massive adrenaline crash.
She shifted slightly on the pillows. She patted the empty space beside her on the mattress with her good hand.
She whispered a soft, hesitant request: "Stay. Please. Hold me while I sleep."
Damien froze. His entire body went completely rigid at the unexpected, highly intimate request.
He hesitated for a long moment. He battled his deep fear of her manipulation against his desperate, overwhelming need for her.
Slowly, he kicked off his ruined leather shoes. He carefully lay down beside her, pulling her uninjured side flush against his chest.
