Chapter 114

Elena's POV

Night had fallen completely by the time the door opened again. I didn't turn from my position by the window. The cold air from the partially opened window felt good against my skin, numbing me inside and out.

"What are you doing?"

Richard's voice, sharp with anger, barely registered. I felt detached, floating somewhere outside my body. The cold had seeped into my bones, and I welcomed it.

Suddenly, strong arms lifted me. But even this felt distant, unimportant. Richard carried me back to the bed, his movements surprisingly gentle despite his obvious anger.

"Are you trying to give yourself pneumonia?" he demanded, pulling the thermal blanket up around me. His hands moved efficiently, checking the IV line, adjusting the pillows behind me. "Your body temperature is too low. How long were you sitting there?"

I blinked, struggling to focus on his face. "What does it matter?"

"Answer me, Elena." His tone was commanding.

"I don't know. A few hours?" I shrugged.

He pressed the call button, ordering the nurse to bring additional blankets.

He pulled up a chair beside my bed. "Have you eaten today?"

The question caught me off guard. "What?"

"Food, Elena. Have you eaten anything?"

"I ate the food Anna brought at noon."

He nodded. "And your medication? Have you been taking it on schedule?"

"Yes," I answered automatically, confused by his concern. Just this morning, I'd thought he might kill me himself. Now he was fussing over my meals and medication.

He continued, "It seems you're recovering better than expected."

"I have that ability," I said truthfully.

The nurse returned with extra blankets. Richard took them from her with a curt nod of dismissal. He tucked the blankets around me, then picked up my chart and began to look through it.

I found myself studying him—his high-bridged nose, handsome face, the perfect lines of his profile. His presence seemed to fill the space. I felt that pull of attraction toward him.

I froze when I realized Richard had caught me staring at him. His eyes met mine with an intensity that made my heart skip. I quickly buried myself under the blanket, feeling heat rush to my cheeks. God, how embarrassing. What was I thinking?

A soft chuckle reached my ears. "You can come out now."

I slowly lowered the blanket, revealing just my eyes. Richard stood there, his lips curved into an amused half-smile.

"Good news," he said, crossing his arms. "You've been behaving well enough that I'm willing to let you go home tomorrow."

"Really?" I pushed the blanket down further, surprised by this sudden change of heart.

He nodded. "Don't look so shocked. You're healing faster than expected, and I have other matters to attend to. Christmas is coming soon, and you can help me prepare everything at home."

Of course. There was always a catch with Richard.

"You want me to handle the holiday preparations?" I asked, trying to keep the disbelief from my voice.

"Precisely. I'm swamped with company matters, and someone needs to make sure everything is perfect." His tone made it clear this wasn't a request.

I studied him, this unfamiliar version of Richard who wasn't openly hostile.

"I'm hungry," I said suddenly, not wanting him to leave yet. My voice came out softer and weaker than I intended.

Something flickered in Richard's eyes. Was it concern? Pity? Whatever it was, it disappeared as quickly as it had appeared.

He pulled out his phone. "I'll order something."

Thirty minutes later, a delivery person arrived with two large bags of food containers. The aroma filled my small hospital room, making my stomach growl embarrassingly loud.

"This is... a lot of food," I commented as Richard arranged the containers on the bedside table. "I can't possibly eat all this."

Richard looked at me with raised eyebrows. "Who said it's all for you? I'm not a ghost, am I?"

My jaw nearly dropped. "You're... eating here? With me?"

"Is that a problem?" His voice had that dangerous edge to it again.

"No! No, I just..." I stammered, watching as he casually set up his laptop on a small table. "I'm just surprised."

Richard, who was usually so picky about food, was about to have dinner from takeout containers in a hospital room. The world had gone mad.

As he worked, I examined the food. There was an abundance of protein—steaks, lamb chops, roasted chicken. But it was all quite greasy.

"You ordered too much. Even between the two of us, we can't finish all this."

"If we can't finish, we'll throw it away," he said dismissively, closing his laptop.

"That's—"

"The soups and vegetable dishes are for you," he interrupted, pointing to several containers. "Considering your condition, I had them prepare lighter options."

I blinked, genuinely touched by this small consideration. Had he actually thought about what would be best for my recovery?

As we ate in relative silence, I started a conversation. "How have the children been behaving these past few days?" I tried to sound casual.

Richard looked up. "Fine. With you gone, they've been listening to me."

I felt relieved hearing this. I had worried they might be upset with me not being home, but they were adjusting well to listening to him.

The children were now listening to him. I should be happy they were adapting, but what I felt instead was a sense of loss.

The food lost its taste in my mouth. I set my fork down, no longer hungry.

Richard noticed. "Not hungry?"

"No," I shook my head, composing my emotions.

The dinner lasted about an hour, though I did most of the eating while Richard merely picked at his food. Finally, he checked his watch and stood.

"I need to get back to the children. Anna can't manage all the children by herself all night."

I watched him quietly, noting the faint lines of exhaustion around his eyes. He'd been running between the hospital and his company, all while caring for three children. Whatever else I might think of Richard, he took his responsibilities as a father seriously. At least, my children were safe with him.

"Drive safely," I said softly as he gathered his things.

Richard paused, looking at me strangely. I turned to pour myself a glass of water.

Before leaving, he made a call. "Ethan, arrange for Elena's discharge tomorrow morning."

At the door, he hesitated for a split second, glancing back at me with an unreadable expression. Then he was gone.

I stood by the window, watching as he drove away from the hospital. I needed to take action too—I had to investigate what happened that night.