Chapter 28
I looked at Benjamin's profile and said softly, "Mr. Wilson, thank you."
He lifted his eyes and gazed at me under the light, his lips curving into an ambiguous smile. "Maintaining the performance of an investment is an investor's duty."
He said it so matter-of-factly, as if I weren't a flesh-and-blood person, but a commodity waiting to be sold, requiring regular maintenance to preserve its value.
I forced a smile, wanting to say something in protest, but another sharp pain in my abdomen cut off all my words.
Just then, Juliet walked in carrying a bowl of steaming ginger tea.
Benjamin took the tray and gestured for Juliet to leave.
He stirred it with a spoon, brought a spoonful to his lips as if testing the temperature, then handed the bowl to me with an unquestionable tone, "Drink it."
The steam made my eyes feel hot.
I struggled to sit up by myself, but he was faster, extending his arm to help me up, blanket and all, settling me securely against him.
My whole body went rigid. My back pressed tightly against his solid chest, and even through two layers of fabric, I could feel his steady heartbeat and burning body heat.
The position was too intimate. I instinctively tried to pull away, but he held my shoulder down, his voice low in my ear, "Don't move."
I had no choice but to give up resisting and, under his half-forced position, took small sips of the scalding ginger tea.
The spicy warmth slid down my throat into my stomach, then spread to my limbs. The cold and pain that had been coiled in my lower abdomen finally dissipated by more than half.
Before long, the family doctor arrived hurriedly with his medical bag.
After an examination, the conclusion was the same as always: overwork and exhaustion, requiring rest.
He prescribed some nourishing medicine, gave a few instructions, and left tactfully under Benjamin's cold gaze.
Under the combined effect of the medicine and warmth, I soon fell into a drowsy state.
My consciousness felt like it was floating in warm water, but my body was so tired I couldn't move a finger.
In my daze, I felt surrounded by a familiar and pleasant cold cedar scent.
It was a safety signal my subconscious had already grown familiar with.
Like a drowning person finding driftwood, I instinctively moved toward that source of heat and fragrance.
My cheek pressed against a warm, solid piece of fabric. Not satisfied, I even nuzzled it, trying to absorb more warmth.
I let out a contented sigh, like a cat finding a comfortable sleeping position.
I could clearly feel the "furnace" I was holding suddenly stiffen.
Then, a low breath tinged with restraint sounded above my head.
I seemed to hear him curse something under his breath, but my consciousness was too blurred to make it out.
I only knew that this embrace was very warm, very reassuring.
A warm, large hand landed on top of my head, the movement somewhat hesitant and stiff, patting gently.
"Ophelia," his voice was hoarse, as if suppressing something, "sleep."
His voice seemed to carry some kind of magic. My tense nerves completely relaxed, and I soon fell into an even deeper sleep.
Half asleep and half awake, I felt that warmth temporarily leave me. The bedroom door opened softly, then closed.
I frowned slightly in dissatisfaction, turned over, and pulled the blanket with his lingering scent into my arms.
I don't know how much time passed before that familiar cold cedar scent approached again.
I felt the edge of the mattress sink slightly. He seemed to be sitting by the bed, quietly watching me.
Just then, a sharp phone ringtone shattered the quiet of the room.
It was my phone in my coat pocket, ringing persistently.
The noise gave me a headache. I whimpered in annoyance but didn't even have the strength to open my eyes.
The ringing stopped abruptly.
I felt him seem to stand up. A moment later, I heard him answer the call, his tone cold as ice, "Who is this?"
He didn't put it on speaker, but I still vaguely heard a male voice from the other end that I knew all too well and detested—sharp, angry, and full of accusations.
I tried hard to open my eyes, to hear clearly what that person was saying, but my eyelids felt like they weighed a thousand pounds.
Benjamin seemed to notice my movement. He walked to the bedside, bent down, and gently covered my eyes with the same large hand that had just touched my hair.
His warm palm blocked out all the light and all the outside disturbances.
His voice sounded above my head again, even gentler than when he'd coaxed me to sleep, carrying an undeniable soothing power, "It's nothing, sleep."
But the other hand holding the phone moved away from me imperceptibly.
But I still heard it.
The instant he turned toward the balcony, I caught Michael's furious roar from the phone.
"Where's Ophelia? Let her answer the phone! That bitch, where the hell is she hiding!"
Benjamin's footsteps paused.
I felt the air in the bedroom turn so cold in that instant that it seemed about to freeze.
He said nothing more, just closed the glass balcony door, shutting out all the sounds.
I lay in the darkness, listening to my own steady heartbeat, but my lips curled upward uncontrollably.
Michael, your good days are still ahead of you.
When I woke up the next day, daylight was already bright.
The soft silk pajamas clung to my body. My lower abdomen was warm—the hot water bottle had been changed at some point and still maintained the most comfortable temperature.
Last night's fierce pain had completely disappeared without a trace.
I sat up and looked around this unfamiliar bedroom.
The minimalist black, white, and gray design exuded understated luxury everywhere, revealing Benjamin's cold, hard, and dominant personal style.
Memories of last night gradually returned—from the embarrassment in the company stairwell, to his unquestionable embrace, to his clumsy care... My cheeks felt a bit hot.
On the nightstand sat a glass of warm water and the medicine the doctor had prescribed last night. Next to it was a sticky note with bold, sweeping handwriting, as sharp and domineering as the man himself.
"Take the medicine when you wake up. There's breakfast downstairs."
I picked up the glass and swallowed the medicine, but my mind was calculating something else.
Michael's phone call last night... How did Benjamin respond to him?
I threw off the blanket and got out of bed. The clothes I'd changed out of last night had been washed, dried, and neatly folded on the nearby sofa.
I quickly changed clothes and took my phone out of my coat pocket.