Pampered By The Cold Mind Reading Tycoon

Elba forced her heavy eyelids open. The harsh afternoon sunlight pouring through the hospital window stabbed at her retinas. She raised a weak, trembling hand to block the glare. Her throat felt like it was coated in dry sand.

A tall shadow instantly eclipsed the light.

Angelo stood up from the custom leather sofa. His broad shoulders blocked the window entirely, casting a dark, suffocating presence over the hospital bed. He wore a tailored charcoal suit, his posture rigid.

"Are you done playing dead?" Angelo's voice was flat, devoid of any warmth. "Is this your new strategy to avoid taking responsibility for pushing Georgina down the stairs?"

Elba's chest tightened. She couldn't form words through her parched throat. She shrank back against the pillows, pulling her shoulders inward, her eyes wide with defensive panic.

Angelo let out a harsh breath through his nose. He reached out and slammed his finger onto the nurse call button above her bed.

Elba watched his broad back. A sudden, violent rush of images flooded her brain-a horrific vision from her coma. The destruction of the Potter family. Her own miserable death. It wasn't a memory, but a terrifying prophecy. It was all going to be real.

This stupid brother, Elba thought, her internal voice screaming in the silence of her mind. He's still yelling at me for that fake heiress Georgina. He doesn't even know he's going to be framed and sent to federal prison next month!

Angelo's finger froze on the plastic button. His knuckles turned stark white.

He whipped his head around. His sharp, dark eyes locked onto Elba's face. He scanned the room, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

Elba felt a cold sweat break out on her neck. She quickly squeezed her eyes shut, pretending to sleep, her breathing erratic.

Angelo looked at the empty corners of the VIP room. There were no speakers. No other people. His pulse hammered against his ribs.

The Potter Group is going to file for bankruptcy because of forged financial statements, Elba complained in her head, keeping her eyes clamped shut. Angelo is just the pathetic Wall Street scapegoat.

The words rang crystal clear inside Angelo's skull. It wasn't a sound in the room. It was a voice echoing directly in his brain.

He sucked in a sharp breath. He closed the distance to the bed in two long strides and grabbed Elba's wrist.

Elba gasped in pain. She opened her eyes, staring at him in sheer terror. She bit down hard on her lower lip, refusing to speak.

"What did you just say?" Angelo demanded, his voice a low, dangerous hiss. He leaned in close, his jaw clenched so tight a muscle ticked in his cheek.

Elba shook her head frantically.

Is he crazy? she screamed internally. Is he going to strangle me to death right now to get revenge for Georgina?

Angelo dropped her wrist like it was burning hot metal.

He stumbled back two steps. His shoulder blades hit the cold