Chapter 12

Edward cracked his eyes open briefly and glanced at her, a faint frown forming between his brows. “No need.” Alice instantly felt the wall of distance he was putting up. She blinked, confused, and instinctively touched her nose. Was he upset with her? But he seemed fine during the business trip, didn’t he? She moved toward the bedside table, reaching for the speaker as Charles Bennett had suggested. “Don’t bother,” he said flatly, his voice emotionless. Alice paused mid-motion, glanced over at the man lying there with his eyes closed, and quietly replied, “Alright. I’ll step out for a moment.” He didn’t respond. She tiptoed out and gently closed the door behind her. There was a small café near the hospital, so she went and picked up a light meal—some plain oatmeal and a cup of warm ginger tea. When she returned to the hallway, she overheard two young nurses whispering behind her. “The patient in VIP Room 303… wow, he looks like he just walked out of a magazine.” 303? That’s Mr. Hawthorne’s room. Alice unconsciously slowed her pace. “For real. If I had a chance with a guy like that—God, that face, those shoulders? Unbelievable.” Alice nearly choked. Her mind flashed back to that night with Edward. She didn’t remember the details, but the aftermath was burned into her memory. It definitely wasn’t enjoyable. Just painful. No, no—don’t go there. That night was a mistake, plain and simple. She clutched the paper bag a little tighter and quickened her steps toward Room 303. “Mr. Hawthorne, I brought you something light to eat,” she said as she opened the door. She walked in just in time to see Edward leaning over to shut off the small speaker. The sudden silence felt oddly familiar—like she’d heard that music before. But it stopped too quickly to catch any distinct melody. Edward pressed a hand against the bed and tried to sit up. Alice rushed forward, set the bag down, and helped support him. She fluffed the pillow behind his back so he could sit comfortably. Color was slowly returning to his face, the sharp lines of his jaw becoming more defined again. She kept a respectful distance and opened the bag, placing the warm oatmeal and tea next to him. Her voice remained calm. “Mr. Hawthorne, please try to eat a little.” The oatmeal was still steaming. Edward’s eyes darkened slightly as he picked up the spoon. “You didn’t ask about my dietary restrictions. Did you already know my preferences?” Alice couldn’t read his tone, so she simply met his gaze and replied, “Yes. After you returned, Mr. Brooks gave me a report on your diet. I memorized it.” After all, as his secretary, arranging meals or handling dinner events sometimes fell under her duties. William usually took care of it, but she had to be prepared in case he was unavailable. Edward didn’t answer. He looked down and began eating. Alice stood to the side, clearly hesitating. “Spit it out,” he said suddenly, his words cold. She looked at his pale yet striking face. “Mr. Hawthorne… since you’re hospitalized, should we inform your wife?” Wasn’t it standard to notify family in situations like this? The spoon in his hand clattered into the bowl, loud and abrupt. He lifted his head, and the chill in his eyes cut right through her. That look made Alice’s heart skip. Why was he suddenly angry again? Did he and his wife… still have unresolved issues? It had been two days already. His low, detached voice rang out. “Get out.” Alice glanced at Edward. His handsome face was tense, lips pressed into a faint frown—clearly in a foul mood. He’d been unusually temperamental these past few days. Not wanting to upset him further, she quietly packed up the meal containers. “Alright, Mr. Hawthorne. I’ll head out now. Just one thing—about the person who brought you in, should we send a token of thanks? Perhaps compensate them?” Edward’s public appearances often required returning favors properly. It kept the media from twisting the narrative and even reinforced his image as a grateful, responsible leader. He shot her a sidelong glance, his tone icy. “Handle it. Include the meal bill, too. I’ll reimburse you later.” “Understood, Mr. Hawthorne.” Alice left, and nearly ninety minutes passed before Charles Bennett walked in just as the IV was about to finish. He removed the needle with practiced ease and performed a quick check-up, clicking his tongue. “Man, you’re like a cockroach. Hard to kill and quick to bounce back.” Edward kept his eyes closed, muttering barely audibly, “Leave.” Charles scanned the room, clearly looking for someone. “Where’s your pretty little secretary?” Edward opened his eyes slowly, giving him a frosty look. “Don’t you have patients to see?” “Hilarious. I rushed over here right after surgery,” Charles scoffed. Edward turned away, clearly not in the mood. But Charles wasn’t backing down easily. He jammed his hands into his pockets, grinning mischievously. “Edward, don’t tell me you’ve got a thing for Miss Alice?” “I mean, come on—she’s exactly my type. Pure, sweet, that first-love vibe. She’s stunning. If I were you, I’d fall, too.” Edward let out a cold snort. “Which eye of yours saw that I liked her?” Alice obviously had feelings for someone else. He wasn’t the type to chase after taken women. Still… he couldn’t deny her legs were killer—long, straight, could definitely lock around his waist. “You don’t like her? Seriously? She’s got the face, the legs… she’s a stunner. Way more attractive than most girls out there,” Charles said, shaking his head. “Did getting married fry whatever sense of beauty you had? Or does your wife have you on a tight leash?” Something dark flashed in Edward’s eyes. Just hearing Emily’s name made his skin crawl now. “You talk too much.” “This is called conversation, my guy. You’re the boring one. No wonder nobody likes you,” Charles snorted. “Whatever. If you’re not into her, I might just make a move.” Edward gave him a cold stare. “She’s not someone you can mess with.” Charles was a known player—saw a pretty face and fell head over heels, usually didn’t last a week. Edward didn’t bother warning him beyond that. Alice wasn’t easy to push around. She didn’t take his money, didn’t try to climb the ladder—she just wanted her own life, simple and clean. Soft on the outside, but not someone you could easily sway. Even if Charles did fall for her, she wouldn’t reciprocate. And once he tasted rejection, he’d back off. After finishing the IV, Charles reminded Edward to come in soon for a full check-up. Edward brushed it off with vague promises, then packed up and left the hospital for his villa. The first thing he did was dial William. His voice was low and edged with frustration. “Any reply from Emily?” William hesitated. “No, sir. She didn’t answer texts or calls.” Edward’s face darkened. “Get a lawyer. Draw up divorce papers.” “Uh…” William paused. “Should we try to reach her one more time? Maybe it’s all a misunderstanding?” Edward gave a mocking laugh. “At this point, what could possibly be misunderstood?” “…” He dropped the final line like a hammer. “Contact Emily now. Set up a meeting tomorrow. I want her to sign the divorce papers—”