Chapter 4

Yes, it was Celia who lay quietly on the hospital bed.

The harsh, pale light washed over her gaunt face. The lively brightness she once had was gone, and her lips were drained of color. The infusion tube was taped to her slender wrist, and clear fluid dripped steadily into her veins.

For some reason, something tightened in Basil's chest. It had to be her stomach condition again. He remembered she'd always had this problem—she'd even been hospitalized for it before.

Back then…

He shoved the mess of memories aside and fixed his gaze on her bloodless lips. Celia didn't seem to be sleeping well. Her brow pinched slightly, and her body shifted even without her being awake.

The blanket slipped a little.

Basil moved forward almost on instinct. He reached out and gently pulled the covers up, tucking them over her exposed shoulders. His fingertips brushed her skin—it was cool to the touch.

His hand stilled and snapped back, as if he'd touched something burning. It was only after he'd acted that he realized what he'd done.

A wave of irritation surged through him. He looked around at the cramped, standard hospital room. The air reeked of disinfectant, and the ward was on a low floor. Noise bled in from outside.

He scowled. How was she supposed to recover in a place like this?

Basil pulled out his phone and dialed his assistant, Calvin Kent. He said curtly, "Celia is in room 302 at Central Hospital. Immediately have her moved to the top-floor VIP suite."

Calvin was clearly taken aback but quickly complied, not daring to ask questions. "Yes, Mr. Fulton."

Basil paused, then added, "Get some crab cakes and mashed potatoes from Flavorworks. Make sure they're fresh out of the kitchen."

Celia used to love them. He didn't know why he remembered that so clearly or why the instruction came so suddenly. Maybe he just didn't want to see her looking so pitiful.

Yes, that had to be it.

"Send them to the VIP suite."

"Understood, Mr. Fulton. I'll arrange it right away."

Basil ended the call and gave Celia one last look. Her frown seemed to smooth out slightly. He pressed his lips together, turned, and walked out without looking back. His stride carried its usual hard, distant edge.

Stella finished getting her hand treated and ended up with a conspicuous gauze bandage wrapped around her wound. She fumed.

As she stepped out of the treatment room, she caught sight of Basil emerging from a ward at the far end of the hallway. That direction… Wasn't that the standard ward area?

She felt her heart sink, but she put on a perfectly measured, soft smile and hurried to him, looping her arm through his. "Basil, where did you go? I was a bit scared when I came out and couldn't find you."

She flicked a casual glance at the room number behind him—302.

Basil glanced at her, his eyes dropping briefly to the gauze on her hand. He said coolly, "I just went to the wrong floor."

"The wrong floor?" She blinked, saying sweetly, "You're such a silly goose. How do you even lose your way in a hospital?"

Inside, she sneered. As if a man like Basil would "lose his way". Room 302 had to mean something.

Basil didn't respond to the tease. He only asked, "Does your hand still hurt? I'll take you home if you're done here."

"Oh, it doesn't hurt much anymore. Thanks, Basil."

Stella nodded obediently, but she'd already etched 302 into her mind. She would find out exactly which tramp was hiding in there. What was it about her that could make Basil deign to go to a place like that?

The lights at the Colson residence burned bright.

Stella's mother, Connie Welch, rushed over theatrically the moment Basil and Stella walked in. "Oh, my precious baby girl! What happened to your hand? Let me see!"

She clutched Stella's hand, her face full of doting worry. However, her eyes kept darting toward Basil, and her smile oozed flattery. She cooed, "We can't thank you enough, Mr Fulton. Stella's really put you out."

Stella's father, Conrad Colson, chimed in. "I agree. You're too thoughtful, Mr. Fulton. Who knows what kind of trouble Stella would've caused without you around?"

"It's no big deal," Basil said evenly.

His tone was rather indifferent as he turned to Stella and said, "Remember to apply the medicine as instructed. Don't get it wet for a few days."

"Got it. Thanks, Basil," Stella said daintily.

He nodded, having no intention of staying. "I have things to do, so I'll head out."

…

It was nighttime when Celia woke up in the hospital. The smell of food had pulled her from her slumber.

She slowly opened her eyes, still feeling a little lightheaded. Her stomach was empty, but at least the sharp pain had eased.

As her vision settled, she spotted a few elegant insulated food containers on the bedside cabinet. One was stamped with Flavorworks' logo.

Crab cakes? Mashed potatotes?

What the…

She stared at them, feeling dazed. Who had sent them?

Her first thought was Violet, but she dismissed it quickly. Violet knew Celia couldn't have these things.

Could it be…

A name swept across her mind. Basil had once caught her eating lunch at Flavorworks, and those two were the exact things she'd ordered.

Suddenly, Celia threw everything into the trash. Her appetite vanished. She didn't need Basil's charity!

Just then, the door opened, and a nurse in a pink uniform stepped in with a professional smile. "Ms. Goodwin, you're awake. How are you feeling?"

Celia nodded weakly. "I'm better. Thanks."

"Oh, my. Why did you throw away such lovely food? There's a microwave over there; you could've heated up the food."

The nurse noticed the premium takeout boxes in the trash. She vaguely remembered them being delivered a few hours ago.

"No. It's already gone bad." Celia's words carried an underlying meaning.

The nurse checked the IV deftly, then smiled again. "Well, this is perfect timing. We're going to move you to a different room."

"Move?" Celia looked at her blankly. "Why?"

The nurse's smile widened. "The hospital arranged it—you'll be moved upstairs to a VIP ward. It's quieter there and better for your recovery."

"A VIP ward?" Celia paused, a thread of uncertainty in her voice. "Who… who arranged it?"

Random upgrades in a hospital? As if that would ever happen!

The nurse kept smiling, but her tone turned matter-of-fact. "We don't know the details—the order came from the higher-ups. Don't worry. The paperwork's all done. You just need to come with me."

"Don't bother. I don't need to move. I'm fine here," Celia said flatly.

First, the crab cakes and mashed potatoes had mysteriously appeared. Next was the sudden upgrade to a VIP ward. Who else but Basil could be behind this? Either way, the harm was done. She didn't need his pity.

At that moment, Violet came in, carrying soup and flowers. "Lia, are you feeling any better? Are you hungry? I brought you homemade chicken broth."

When she spotted the takeout in the trash, she asked, "Wait, is that from Flavorworks? Since when do they deliver?"

Celia replied coolly, "No idea. Either way, it's not edible anymore."

Violet threw her a playful wink. "Looks like someone's got a secret admirer. I told you, didn't I? There's plenty of fish in the sea. There's no reason to pine for that scumbag."

Somewhere else, Basil suddenly sneezed.

Violet remembered something and sat by the bed. "You haven't been discharged yet. Why'd you announce your comeback?"

Celia blinked, confused again. "My comeback?"

Violet pulled out her phone and showed her. The top five trending topics were all about L-God. In just a few hours, news of L-God attending the global medical summit had made headlines worldwide.

Celia's heart clenched. Only two people in the world would dare push such news so loudly.

It was him!

Her three-year agreement with Basil had only just expired, yet the man she knew to be a lunatic couldn't wait even a single day to pull something like this!