Chapter 5. Suffocating Recovery

Mr. Hawthorne deftly opened the door as soon as he heard the bell ring. A food courier arrived, delivering the order his secretary had arranged, then politely withdrew. He neatly arranged the dishes on plates and took them upstairs.

He intentionally left Jasmine alone to rest while he busied himself downstairs. When he returned to the room, he unexpectedly found Jasmine sleeping restlessly, her face drenched in sweat to a worrying extent.

He quickly placed the food on the table and sat at the edge of the bed to check on Jasmine. His face showed surprise as he felt her burning forehead. “Miss Everhart, can you hear me?”

Jasmine didn’t respond.

“Miss Everhart,” he called again, concerned. “You need to wake up and take your medicine.”

Mr. Hawthorne propped Jasmine up against the headboard, using a pillow for support. Although she briefly opened her eyes, Jasmine soon closed them again.

“You just need to open your mouth and chew the food I’ll feed you. Okay?”

Mr. Hawthorne spooned some chicken soup, bringing it to Jasmine’s slowly parting lips. After a few spoonfuls, unable to sit up for long, Jasmine was given her medication and left to rest.

He quickly headed downstairs to fetch some water to compress Jasmine. Amid all this, something suddenly disturbed his thoughts.

“Why am I doing this?”

Feeling that he had violated his character, he abandoned the water he had fetched and left the kitchen with heavy steps.

***

Jasmine opened her eyes to a different atmosphere. The sunlight slowly seeped into the room, illuminating it with warmth. Her face looked calm, indicating she was better than the night before.

One thing that dimmed her hope that morning was that she was still in the same place. She blinked repeatedly to reassure herself that everything that had happened to her recently was just a dream, but reality was indeed as it was.

In the middle of her reverie, an older-looking woman suddenly appeared. They stared at each other in surprise, not recognizing each other. Jasmine wondered if Mr. Hawthorne had a family member living with him.

“Oh, ah, you’re awake? How are you feeling?” the woman asked as she approached Jasmine.

“I’m... feeling better,” Jasmine said, her voice almost fading.

“Thank goodness. Mr. Hawthorne’s efforts to stay up all night to compress you were not in vain.”

“Mr. Hawthorne…?”

...did that? Jasmine continued her thought silently.

“I’m Beatrice Ramsey, a weekly worker Mr. Hawthorne hired to take care of all his needs at the penthouse.”

“I—I'm… Jasmine Everhart,” Jasmine said softly and hesitantly.

Ms. Ramsey smiled warmly. “Mr. Hawthorne went to work, and he asked me to stay longer to look after you. He will most likely return this afternoon.”

Ms. Ramsey took the water container from the nightstand and continued, “I’ll bring breakfast to your room. You still need to finish your medication.”

Jasmine watched without saying a word, recalling Ms. Ramsey's words that Mr. Hawthorne had stayed up all night to compress her.

How could it come to this? I feel like I owe a debt to someone I should consider my enemy, Jasmine thought.

***

Jasmine ate her breakfast until it was finished, seemingly having run out of energy. One bowl of porridge was not enough for her.

“I made a whole pot of porridge, there’s still more if you want another serving,” Ms. Ramsey said kindly.

“Thank you for the offer, Ms. Ramsey, but three large servings are enough to fill me up. Your porridge is really delicious!”

Ms. Ramsey smiled. “It’s very gratifying to hear your praise. I’ll just clean up this bowl,” she said, placing the bowl on the tray.

“Ms. Ramsey,” Jasmine called, halting the woman’s movement.

“Yes? Is there something you’d like to tell me?”

Jasmine hesitated. “Can I... take a bath?”

“Oh, of course. You can use the bathroom in this room. Mr. Hawthorne has also prepared a change of clothes for you in the closet in the walk-in closet. You just need to pass the carved partition to find a door, that’s the bathroom door. On the left side, there will be another smaller partition, where the walk-in closet is.” After saying that, Ms. Ramsey left the room.

Jasmine noted the direction indicated, the place where she had once stepped angrily while looking for dry clothes to cover her body. These past few days, she had been unable to think clearly, only now realizing that she was still wearing Mr. Hawthorne’s black shirt.

Jasmine touched her chest, which was pounding, thinking about the new experience of wearing a man’s clothes. She had once hoped for this from Mr. Harper, a man she could never reach.

Jasmine shook her head quickly, trying to dispel the sadness. She got up and went to the dressing room to see the clothes Ms. Ramsey mentioned.

In the walk-in closet, Jasmine opened the wardrobes one by one, searching for women’s clothes among the rows of men’s clothing. Finally, she found them tucked in a corner, hanging alongside Mr. Hawthorne’s clothes. There were five women’s dresses, all knee-length with modest designs.

The dresses were so elegant and looked expensive. Once again, Jasmine felt this situation was inappropriate. Mr. Hawthorne was an enemy, and she should not accept any help from him.

Jasmine left the special storage area. She planned to wear her clothes hanging in the bathroom instead.

With her body drenched in sweat from illness, she turned on the shower, adjusting the temperature to a comfortable level. Warm water flowed, washing away all the fatigue and discomfort clinging to her.

“Verve Elite Cleanse,” Jasmine whispered, reaching for a luxurious black glass bottle with gray accents.

“Is this soap?” she muttered, trying to identify it by its scent and reading the labels on the bottle. “It smells so masculine, it’s intoxicating,” she grimaced, her expression one of displeasure.

She put the liquid soap back in its place and then reached for another bottle she knew the contents of. Shampoo with the brand Glacial Precision, its scent much softer.

After a while, Jasmine turned off the water. Still enveloped in steam, she reached for a towel from the corner cabinet. Her gaze shifted to the other side of the room, where her clothes should be hanging. Her eyes narrowed in confusion, and the next moment, she was shocked. There was no trace of the clothes that should have marked the end of her bathing ritual.

Filled with indecision, Jasmine quickly left the bathroom. Her mind raced, trying to find traces of her clothes or reconcile with the idea of wearing the dress provided by Mr. Hawthorne.

However, something unexpected happened when Jasmine felt a dominating aura stalking her, revealing the presence of Mr. Hawthorne walking through the partition. Jasmine was startled, letting out a scream that pierced the silence.

“Get out, b*st*rd!”