Chapter 2

That evening, Theodore knocked on Gemma's door. "Tilly wants chicken broth. Go make it." Gemma lowered her gaze and silently walked to the kitchen. There was no use resisting. She had long since learned to obey. In the kitchen, she mechanically prepped the ingredients. Cold water ran over her hands, numbing her fingertips. Suddenly, she remembered how much he used to love the broths she made. Back then, he would wrap his arms around her waist from behind and murmur, "My wife's cooking is the best." The pot bubbled steadily on the stove, steam clouding her vision. Gemma raised a hand to wipe at the corner of her eye, unsure if it was steam or tears. Three hours later, she stood outside the master bedroom with a steaming bowl of chicken broth, knocking softly. "Come in," Theodore called from within. Pushing the door open, she saw Matilda reclining against the headboard while he sat by the bed, peeling an apple. His peeling technique was unique—the skin spiraled off in one unbroken strip. It was something he had once learned just for her. "The broth's ready," Gemma said, setting the bowl on the nightstand. Matilda lazily picked up the spoon, took a sip, and immediately scowled. "Too salty! Are you trying to kill me?" Gemma pressed her lips together. "I'll make it again." The second bowl was brought over, but Matilda pushed it aside after just one sip. "It's bland! Make it again!" By the third bowl, Matilda barely touched the rim before yelling, "It's way too hot! How am I supposed to drink this?" She suddenly flung her hand out, and the entire bowl of steaming soup splashed all over Gemma. Gemma cried out in pain as her chest instantly turned bright red. "Theodore!" Matilda cried, clutching her slightly reddened fingers, tears welling up in her eyes. "It hurts…" Theodore's face darkened as he kicked Gemma away. "You're asking for it." She stumbled backward, her back hitting the wall. The pain blurred her vision. "It wasn't me. She knocked it over..." "Shut up!" he snarled, his gaze venomous. "Don't you dare deny it." He pressed the call button, and two bodyguards appeared at the door. "Lock her in the cold room for 24 hours," he ordered coldly. "Keep your eyes on her. Don't give her the chance to take her own life." As Gemma was dragged away, the last thing she saw was Theodore tenderly holding Matilda's hand, blowing on it with care. The cold room door slammed shut behind her, and an icy chill instantly sank into her bones. Gemma curled up in a corner, her teeth chattering uncontrollably. The chill crept through her limbs, weighing them down. Slowly, her consciousness began to blur. In a daze, she seemed to be transported back three years, back to the time when she was hospitalized for acute appendicitis. Theodore had abandoned an international conference to fly back overnight. The doctor said she needed rest, so he stayed outside her room, keeping watch for three full days and nights. Even the nurses remarked they'd never seen anyone so frantic over their girlfriend. "Gemma… Gemma!" In her haze, she seemed to hear Theodore's voice, filled with unprecedented panic. It had to be a hallucination. The man he was now would never fret over her like that. When she woke again, the sharp sting of disinfectant told her she was in a hospital. She heard the doctor's serious voice nearby. "Mr. Barre, Ms. Hodge's condition is very critical, especially after the procedure she underwent earlier…" "Doctor," Gemma interrupted, her voice hoarse. "I know my own body." The room fell silent. Theodore stood by the window, his expression unreadable against the backlight. "As long as she stays alive, that's all that matters," he said coldly. "The rest is none of my business." No sooner had he spoken than his phone rang. Gemma watched as his face softened instantly. "Tilly... Sweetheart, I'm just paying the bills. I'll be right there." After hanging up, he left without so much as a glance at her. With effort, she lifted her phone and opened her social media feed. Matilda had just posted an update. It was a photo of Theodore keeping vigil by her hospital bed. "It's just a minor burn, but someone was so worried he didn't leave my side all night. I had to practically shoo him away to pay the bills!" Gemma stared at the tenderness in Theodore's eyes in the photo. Suddenly, everything made sense. She realized that her being brought to the hospital was just an afterthought. Her hand moved to her chest, where the artificial heart gave off a faint pulse. Six days. Her countdown had begun—she only had six days left.