All Chapters of Only Her Touch: The CEO’s Forbidden Doctor: Chapter 41 - Chapter 50

Alice’s POVMonday afternoon, a light drizzle tapped against the windowpanes, blurring the view of Bel-Air Manor’s sprawling gardens. The steady rhythm of rain seemed to soften the edges of the day, making the study feel almost cocoon-like. David was at the desk, absorbed in a stack of files, his fingers tapping methodically across the keyboard. I needed to check some comparison data on Camilla’s recent bloodwork, so I asked if I could use his computer.“Go ahead,” he said without looking up, voice low and calm.I stepped up to the massive mahogany desk, the kind of desk that felt more like a throne than a workspace. My hand hovered over the mouse, ready to turn on the computer, when my elbow brushed against a subtle ridge along the edge. A faint click followed.Before I could pull back, a hidden drawer slid out from the side of the desk, smooth and silent. My heart skipped. This was David’s private space. I froze, instinctively wanting to close it, but curiosity—and something else, a

Alice’s POV“Daddy!”Camilla suddenly threw herself into David’s arms, her small face buried in the crook of his neck. She rubbed against him, letting out a satisfied sigh. “I knew it! I just knew you were my Daddy! You’re the best Daddy in the world!”David staggered back a little under the force of her enthusiasm, but he didn’t push her away. Instead, his hand—once so careful, so intolerant even of dust—now wrapped firmly around this tiny life that had once lain helpless in a hospital bed. He closed his eyes, resting his chin on the top of her hair, a rare expression crossing his face: peace, affection, the kind of soft surrender I had never seen from him before.I stayed to the side, watching them, feeling a sharp sting in my eyes. Sunlight spilled through the French windows, casting a warm golden glow over the scene. I realized in that moment that nothing else existed—no headlines, no schedules, no obligations. Just this: a father and his child, a small act of pure love.After wha

Alice’s POVI was still lost in my thoughts when Camilla suddenly came running toward me, shoving a crumpled piece of paper into my hands.“Mom! Give this to Daddy! Now!”“Now?” I glanced toward the closed door. From somewhere below, I could faintly hear raised voices, the harsh tones of a family argument creeping up the walls and stairs.“Yes! I’m telling Spider-Man I love him!” Camilla nodded so firmly that I couldn’t help but smile. Her little eyes were bright, determined, filled with the kind of innocence that cut through tension like sunlight through fog.I took a deep breath, sniffled once, and held her hand as we walked toward the stairwell.The sound of the heated discussion downstairs grew louder with each step. Even through the thick carpet and solid wood stairs, the sharp edge in the voices made my chest tighten.“David! This is the family’s decision! You can’t just be capricious!” the old lady’s voice rang out, high and commanding, carrying that unmistakable air of authori

Alice’s POVThe night on the island was quiet in a way that felt almost unnatural. The only sound was the soft, rhythmic crash of waves against the shore, a gentle pulse that seemed to echo through the villa. Camilla was asleep in her room, sprawled across her small bed, her breathing even, her tiny hands still clutching the white-coat doll she refused to let go of. I was alone.I wandered out onto the terrace on the second floor, needing to clear my head, to let the sea breeze wash over me. My heart was still pounding from the day, from David, from the way the sunlight had hit his eyes earlier, from the small, quiet moments of family that felt both real and impossibly fragile.The terrace was large, furnished with two rattan lounge chairs that looked out over the beach. I wrapped myself in a beige knitted shawl, holding a steaming cup of tea between my palms. The air was cooler than I had imagined, carrying a damp, salty bite that pressed against my skin. I hugged myself instinctivel

Alice’s POVThe private jet touched down in Los Angeles in the middle of the afternoon.The moment the wheels hit the runway, I felt it—the sharp return to reality. Just hours ago, we had been on an island that felt sealed off from the rest of the world. Quiet. Soft. Timeless. Now the air outside the cabin was dry and restless, carrying that familiar smell of dust and heat and impatience.The Caribbean sun still clung to my skin like a memory that hadn’t learned how to let go. Los Angeles didn’t care. Los Angeles never did.As soon as we stepped off the plane, David made a decision that surprised me. Instead of heading straight to the company like he usually did after a trip, he told the driver to take us back to Beverly Hills first.The entire ride, he kept hold of my hand.He didn’t say much. Barely said anything at all. But his palm was warm, firm, and I could feel something tight beneath that calm—an almost imperceptible tension, like a wire pulled too thin.When we arrived at the