Chapter 226 Blind to Her Performance

Chapter 226 Blind to Her Performance

After saying that, she slowly closed her eyes, as if finally falling asleep peacefully.

But her slightly trembling eyelashes and the faint hint of smugness at the corner of her lips clearly betrayed the restlessness beneath the surface.

She lay on her side, deliberately shifting into a position that best showed off her figure. Her dark hair spread across the white pillow, making her small face look all the more helpless and fragile.

The strap of her nightgown had slipped off one shoulder—whether by accident or design—revealing her collarbone and the curve of her neck. Under the soft glow of the hospital room light, it was a carefully constructed invitation.

She was waiting—waiting for Henry to come closer, waiting for him to pull up the blanket for her, waiting for that unguarded moment when his gaze would drift where she wanted it to.

But she waited, and the anticipated approach never came.

The hospital room was so quiet that only the steady beeping of the monitors broke the silence.

What Skylar didn't know was that although Henry was still sitting there, his thoughts had long since drifted elsewhere.

He leaned back in his chair, his gaze fixed on the darkness beyond the window, his mind entirely occupied with Sylvia.

He wondered if she had gone to sleep yet, whether she'd kick off the blanket in the night.

Garth was a timid kid, so he'd almost certainly want to sleep next to Sylvia tonight.

And then there was the baby—just barely beginning to take shape...

A quiet smile crept to the corner of Henry's lips without him noticing.

Sylvia was pregnant, which meant her tastes would shift. He wondered if she could get used to the food on the island.

When he got back, he'd have the chef put together a proper daily menu for her. Something suitable for pregnancy, carefully thought through.

She'd been particularly drawn to sour things lately. They couldn't run out of those pickled fruits, and that light seafood broth from her favorite place—he'd have to arrange a standing daily order.

Henry's thoughts kept spreading.

If the baby was a girl, she had to take after Sylvia—beautiful and sharp. He'd dress her in the finest things from the time she could walk and spoil her so thoroughly that no one would ever dare give her trouble. And if anyone did, he'd handle it himself.

If it was a boy...

Henry's brow furrowed slightly. If the boy turned out rowdy, the way he himself had been as a child, it would drive Sylvia out of her mind.

But if he was calm and gentle like Garth, that wouldn't be bad at all.

And the name?

Henry began to think about it seriously.

He was completely absorbed in the joy of becoming a father, turning possibilities over in his mind. His usually composed eyes were now soft with a happiness so full it was almost embarrassing—and he didn't even notice.

As for Skylar on the hospital bed, who had gone to such lengths to play Sleeping Beauty, she barely registered in his world at all.

Henry was lost in the warm, slightly ridiculous daydream of their future—a family of three, or maybe four—unaware of the foolish smile spreading across his own face.

He glanced at his watch. It was getting late. Sylvia had been through a scare and a long, draining day. She had to be hungry.

He stood up with a single thought in his head: go home and cook for Sylvia.

As for Skylar, still holding her pose on the hospital bed, he didn't spare her a second glance. He simply pushed the door open and walked out, his steps quick and certain.

The moment the door clicked shut, Skylar's eyes flew open. The soft, watery look she usually wore was gone entirely—what remained was fury, raw and barely contained, flooding in where the performance had been.

She pressed her teeth together, her nails biting crescent marks into her palms.

How had this happened?

She had shown him her most vulnerable side, her most carefully arranged self, and he hadn't reacted at all?

No. That wasn't right.

Skylar drew a slow breath, forcing herself to think clearly.

He must care. He was simply holding back—seeing how fragile she was, unwilling to take advantage of that. It was restraint, not indifference. He still felt something for her, but the weight of that life-saving debt was keeping him in check.

Yes. That had to be it.

The resentment in her chest eased slightly, replaced by something darker and more twisted—a satisfaction she couldn't quite name.

It was fine. There was still time. As long as he still felt even a flicker of guilt or pity for her, she still had a chance.

When Henry returned to The Smith Mansion, only a single floor lamp was lit in the living room.

Sylvia was sitting on the sofa, a cushion held against her chest, speaking quietly to Katya beside her, whose face was still pale.

At the sound of the door, both of them looked up.

Seeing Henry, Katya startled slightly and instinctively moved behind Sylvia. Then, catching herself, she stood up and smoothed her clothes with an awkward little gesture. "Sylvia, I—I need to use the restroom."

She slipped away quickly, leaving them alone.

Henry shrugged off his coat, crossed the room, and settled beside Sylvia, drawing her into his arms. "I went to see her," he said quietly.

Sylvia leaned into him, breathing in the familiar cool scent of him. The tension she'd carried all day finally began to loosen. "What did she say?"

"That she'd been sold to the Coffin Organization and spent years suffering." His tone was completely flat, the way he might read out a routine report. "When I brought up 'Crimson,' she lost control and passed out."

"Passed out." Sylvia laughed, short and cold. She sat up straight, her eyes sharp with contempt. "Perfect timing, as always. When Katya was taken, the other party wore a hat and mask the whole time—voice disguised, no trace left behind. Who else but Skylar could scrub a scene that clean while still leaving just enough to prove she wasn't the one pulling the strings?"

The more she turned it over, the angrier she got. She lifted her foot and kicked Henry's shin, taking it out on him. "This is your fault. You got tangled up with someone like her and now we can't shake her loose."

Rather than pulling back, Henry caught her ankle and cradled it in his palm, rubbing it gently, his expression all apology. "You're right. I misjudged her. I'm sorry."

He leaned in and pressed a kiss to her cheek. "Don't be angry, honey. If you make yourself sick over this, I'll feel terrible. Let me go make you something to eat. Consider it a peace offering."

Watching him scramble to make it up to her, Sylvia felt most of her irritation drain away. She sniffed and said nothing, which was as close to permission as he was going to get.

Before long, the smell of food drifted from the kitchen.

Henry came out carrying a bowl of soup that had been simmering low and slow, the broth a rich, milky white.

He set it carefully in front of her. "Here. Drink this first—it'll settle your stomach."

Sylvia had just picked up the spoon when there was a stir at the entrance.

A caregiverwas helping Skylar through the door.

She had changed into clean clothes, her face still ashen, looking so fragile it seemed like a strong breeze might finish her off.

The moment she spotted Henry, her eyes lit up. She pulled free from the caregiver's arm and made her way unsteadily toward him. Just as she reached the sofa, she covered her mouth and bent forward with a fit of coughing—small, helpless, perfectly timed.

Henry's expression didn't soften. He didn't stand. He didn't move his hand from Sylvia's shoulder. When he spoke, there was no warmth in it at all. "Why aren't you resting at the hospital? What are you doing here?"

Author's Note:

Need a brief pause before writing the ending. Thanks for waiting with me.

See you soon.

Premium multi-genre women's fiction recommendations—whether you crave CEO romance, adorable babies, heart-wrenching love stories, reincarnation tales, or tales of mafia, and dual identities—we've got it all. Join us for reading and discussion!


I married my dead sister's fiancé to atone—now he's replaced me with a woman who looks more like her, and my sanity is the next thing he'll destroy.


I married the man who blames me for my sister's death. Now someone wants me dead for a truth I don't remember—and my only protector is the husband sworn to destroy me.


He made me his dying wife to save the woman he truly loves—but death won't stop me from taking my revenge.


I married my sister's billionaire fiancé to atone for her death—he made my life a living hell, but my death became his eternal one.


The night I lost our baby, I learned our marriage was never real. Now he wants me to hand my career to his mistress. Watch me.


He ripped out my heart to save his true love. He never imagined I'd come back—and give it to someone else.


She played the invisible wife for three years—until he realized the only woman he couldn't live without was the one he never bothered to see.

<30 Days to Leave My CEO Husband>
He bought his first love a million-dollar piano. He gave me a dog-eared cookbook. That was the day I started the countdown to leave.


They ripped her baby from her womb piece by piece—now she's back to destroy them the same way.


He bought his first love a million-dollar piano. He gave me a dog-eared cookbook. Now I translate for billionaires while he translates my divorce papers.


My daughter wished another woman was her mom. So I left. Now I'm a top surgeon, my ex-husband begs at my door, and I have a man who actually sees me.


"My billionaire boss knows I'm faking blindness—now he's using my secret to destroy my cheating husband."

Add to your library now!