Chapter 7

Did Larry have any love for Aria?

How could he not? If he didn't love her, he wouldn't hate her so much.

He hated her coldness, hated that she had indirectly caused Linda's death, hated how she always seemed so detached and above it all.

He had married her to make her suffer. He couldn't stand seeing her so high above him, where he could only look up at her.

She was supposed to be his woman, yet she made him feel like a fool.

Just like now—Aria seeing him with Lucy and remaining so calm, even clearly mentioning divorce.

How dare she?

She hadn't yet paid her debt to him. How could Aria simply turn and leave while he remained trapped in the same place, unable to escape that nightmare!

Larry's dark eyes grew intense and somber, the corners tinged with red. He grabbed Aria's wrist.

In the next moment, he had pinned her against the leather sofa next to the hospital bed.

Larry gripped her slender wrist so hard that a purple bruise was forming.

She winced in pain, but he leaned in closer, trapping her beneath him.

"Aria, you don't deserve to mention divorce to me."

He seized her chin, forcing her to meet his cold gaze.

"Only I can abandon you. Until you've atoned for your sins, don't even dream about leaving the Spencer family to pursue your so-called dreams and freedom.

"You deserve to rot in the Spencer mansion."

They were so close that Aria could clearly see the fresh lipstick mark on Larry's neck—left by Lucy.

That vivid mark was like a mocking smile.

She looked at the man before her. The same face, but no longer gentle—now filled with rage.

Aria looked away as Larry grabbed the divorce papers from her hand, tore them to pieces, and threw them in her face.

White paper fragments floated down around her.

Aria's face remained expressionless, which only fueled his hatred for her calm demeanor.

He wanted to mark her like a wild animal, his teeth already grazing her shoulder as if considering whether to bite down. The next instant, a slap landed across his face.

"Larry, what are you trying to do in front of your lover?"

Aria's silk dress was disheveled, the buttons at her chest undone. Her cheeks had flushed pink, apparently from the humiliation.

Larry suddenly came to his senses, staring hard at Aria.

His hand tightened around her delicate neck.

"Aria, don't even think about divorce. I want you to rot by my side forever."

His hoarse voice swelled with hatred, like a curse.

Aria suddenly smiled.

"Then your precious Lucy will have to remain outside the Spencer family forever, without any legitimate status.

"As long as I stay in the Spencer household, Lucy will forever be just a mistress, scorned by everyone."

Despite being choked, Aria continued to smile, her eyes filled with mockery.

"Are you ready for mutual destruction with me?"

She could feel Larry's hand gradually tightening.

In his fury, he truly wanted to strangle her.

Aria's face had turned completely red, her voice trembling. "I don't mind letting everyone know that you're keeping Lucy as your secret lover."

"Shut up!"

Larry's eyes turned vicious. He let go of Aria as if he'd touched something filthy and stood up.

Lucy lay in the hospital bed, watching the scene timidly, calling out with a hint of self-pity, "Larry, I'm cold..."

Larry rushed to her side with concern and worry, taking Lucy's hand. She nestled into his embrace.

"Larry, I'm fine. As long as you're happy, nothing else matters to me."

With those words, Lucy fainted in the hospital bed.

"Lucy! Lucy!"

Larry anxiously pressed the emergency call button.

Aria watched with a dispassionate expression as Larry rushed to take care of Lucy, the mockery in her eyes growing deeper.

The hospital room door had never been fully closed. As the nurse and doctor entered, Aria looked up and met a strikingly handsome face.

He had sharp, elegant eyes and thin lips, with upturned eye corners. His gaze was clear with a hint of playfulness—the typical face of a charming playboy. Yet he wore a doctor's white coat, which added an unexpected air of dignity to his appearance.

It was Dr. Ethan Alexander.

Aria had crossed paths with him before, just a few casual conversations at a charity gala, but enough to leave a strong impression.

He was the direct heir of the Alexander family, on good terms with several major families, and had the most colorful love life among all of them—perfectly matching his playboy appearance.

The Alexander family specialized in medicine, and their private hospital was the industry leader. No family dared to offend the Alexanders, regardless of whom else they might cross.

Dr. Alexander was a rare prodigy who had entered Harvard at fourteen, studying both Western and alternative medicine. He had published various papers and was the most promising rising star in the medical field.

As the hospital's director, he would only personally attend to important figures requiring surgery.

While Aria observed Dr. Alexander, he nodded to her with a smile, then walked unhurriedly to the bedside.

Dr. Alexander rarely attended social gatherings, so Larry didn't recognize him, but urgently asked him to begin treatment.

Dr. Alexander casually pulled up a chair and sat by the bed. He glanced at the nurse beside him, who immediately took out a needle case containing a row of acupuncture needles—some as long as six inches. Larry took one look and turned away.

"Doctor, Lucy just has a fever and fainted. Wouldn't an IV be enough? Surely those needles aren't necessary," Larry said, already feeling pained at the sight of the needles.

"Who told you she has a fever?" Dr. Alexander scanned Lucy's forehead with a digital thermometer. "Her temperature is normal. The patient believes she has a pseudo-fever, which could indicate bipolar disorder. The initial stage is unconsciousness, but it will progressively worsen. I need to use these long needles to wake her.

"Her condition is difficult to treat. This needle may cause severe pain, and migraines lasting a week or more would be normal."

Dr. Alexander spoke casually about these frightening matters. In his peripheral vision, he noticed Lucy's closed eyelids twitch nervously, and his gaze grew colder.

"I'm about to insert the needle now."

As the long needle slowly approached Lucy's face, she could no longer maintain her act. Lucy suddenly sat up in bed, her eyes staring in terror at the needle that had nearly penetrated her brain.

"Larry... I... I'm feeling much better. No need for needles..."

Lucy was so frightened that her body trembled.

Dr. Alexander narrowed his eyes and returned the needle to the case, saying mockingly, "It seems my medical skills are truly miraculous. I can cure patients without even using needles. This calls for celebration."

Lucy could only lower her head, not daring to look at Dr. Alexander.

Larry continued to worry about Lucy, comforting her. As Dr. Alexander prepared to leave, Larry hurriedly asked, "Doctor, does Lucy need any other medication?"

Dr. Alexander had reached the doorway when he heard this. He laughed derisively.

"She doesn't have a fever. She's perfectly healthy. All that talk about bipolar disorder was something I made up.

"She doesn't need any medicine. You, on the other hand, being blind and naive, might need quite a bit."