Chapter 56 I'm Anna, Nathan's Partner
The heavy bathroom door clicked open.
Nathan immediately looked up from the sofa. The woman from his memories emerged, awkwardly scratching the back of her head, completely failing to meet his eyes.
He stared at her, his entire massive frame completely rigid with a terrifying, unspoken expectation.
Chloe pouted slightly, letting out a frustrated sigh. "Negative."
Before he could process it, she quickly added, "It's probably just a mild stomach bug from all the travel."
"Oh." Nathan swallowed hard, desperately shoving the brutal wave of disappointment down into the absolute darkest corner of his mind. He forced his expression to remain completely level. "That's good news," he lied softly. "Should I drive you to the hospital for a proper checkup later?"
"Mm," Chloe hummed, completely avoiding his gaze.
She had taken two separate, highly expensive pregnancy tests in the bathroom, and both had instantly developed a single, stark white line. She absolutely wasn't pregnant.
And now, a profound, agonizing regret was clawing at her throat. Why the hell had she been so fiercely adamant about using protection after they got married?
They should have immediately tried for a baby the absolute second the rings were on their fingers. If she had just been a little more reckless back then, she could have handed him the most incredible surprise of his life right now.
Seeing him so clearly, fundamentally devastated, yet desperately pretending not to care just to protect her feelings, completely broke Chloe's heart.
She walked over to the sofa, resting her hands on his broad shoulders. She leaned down, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to his tense jawline. "It's okay, Professor," she whispered against his skin. "There will be plenty of chances. You are still young. How about we just hurry up and start trying tonight?"
Nathan glanced at her, his dark eyes entirely unreadable, neither agreeing nor refusing. But the tips of his ears flushed a brilliant, traitorous red as he stood up. "Let's go. Grab your coat. I'll take you to the hospital."
"Aren't you supposed to be working today?" Chloe asked, happily grabbing her purse and following him to the door.
"I took the day off," Nathan said smoothly, walking ahead of her into the hallway.
"Taking time off again? You need to watch your back at your age, old man—you might end up at the very top of the university's downsizing list!" Chloe laughed, jogging to catch up to him by the elevator.
Nathan stopped, turning to glare at her completely unimpressed. Seeing her grinning up at him like a wicked little fox, the corner of his mouth twitched. He raised his hand, lightly tapping two fingers against her forehead.
Chloe immediately seized the opening. She aggressively grabbed his large hand, interlacing her fingers with his. "Oh my goodness! Such a devastatingly beautiful hand absolutely should not be used to hit people. It should be kept right here, gently resting in my palm instead."
Nathan’s jaw tightened, trying to suppress the fond, defeated smile as he watched her grip his hand with a bruising, territorial strength. Suddenly, he raised an eyebrow. "Do you know what they call that kind of talk these days?"
"What?" Chloe blinked, looking up at him.
"Cliché," Nathan declared flatly. He easily pulled his hand free and turned to step into the elevator. "It is incredibly old-fashioned."
"Really?!" Chloe gasped, utterly offended, rushing in after him.
He used to completely lose his mind when she said things like that! Had he genuinely changed? Had two decades actually made him immune to her flirting?
Nathan drove the Bentley straight to Northwestern Memorial Hospital for a comprehensive gastrointestinal appointment.
The initial physician's examination revealed absolutely zero specific issues, but Nathan remained intensely, terrifyingly paranoid. He aggressively insisted on running a full metabolic blood panel.
"Nathan, seriously, this is totally unnecessary. I literally just had my annual physical last week before the crash," Chloe groaned, physically recoiling at the thought of more needles. "It's probably just my diet adjusting to modern processed food."
Nathan looked down at her, his expression leaving absolutely no room for negotiation. "No. You are physically gagging after eating a few bites of pasta. We need to rule out an ulcer or an infection. It is not good for your health."
"Fine. Whatever you say, dictator," Chloe huffed. She sat in the phlebotomy chair, aggressively rolling up her sleeve, extending her pale arm, and immediately squeezing her eyes shut.
Seeing how genuinely tense she was, Nathan stepped closer. He gently placed his large, warm hand completely over her forearm to anchor her.
Chloe wasn't actually afraid of the physical pain; she just possessed a deep, psychological aversion to watching the needle pierce her vein.
But the absolute moment she felt his heavy, reassuring touch, she ruthlessly leaned into it, pressing her face against his stomach and feigning complete vulnerability. "Ouch," she whimpered dramatically. "That hurts."
"It's okay. Don't look. It will be over in two seconds," Nathan murmured, his voice dropping to a low, incredibly soothing frequency as he gently stroked her hair.
The blood draw was over in a flash, but Chloe continued to cling to his waist, absolutely refusing to stand up until he physically hooked his arm under hers and hauled her out of the chair. Her weaponized, feigned vulnerability was almost unbearable to witness.
And from fifty feet down the sterile hospital corridor, Anna Merrill spotted the entire scene.
The man who was usually terrifyingly composed, brutally reserved, and utterly lethal in boardrooms was currently wearing an expression bordering on absolute, sickening devotion as he carefully supported the young woman in his arms.
The tender, agonizing care with which he cradled her—as if she were the single most fragile, precious treasure on earth—was something Anna had absolutely never witnessed in over a decade of working alongside him.
"Ms. Merrill? What's wrong?" asked Dr. Mario Torres, the gray-haired senior chief of neurology walking beside her.
"Oh, nothing at all," Anna smiled flawlessly, instantly shifting her sharp gaze away from the couple and returning to her aggressive business pitch. "Professor Torres, I understand you are currently leading a massive clinical trial on a new compound designed to artificially stimulate brain neuron activity. Would our pharmaceutical group have the honor of officially collaborating with you and your team?"
"Your corporate group is already brimming with brilliant young talent. Do you really need an old, stubborn codger like me taking up space?" Professor Torres chuckled, smoothly attempting to steer the conversation away from his proprietary research.
"It is precisely because our platform is so robust and our capital so aggressive that we only attract top-tier talent," Anna replied, her tone calm and ruthless. "Every single chief scientist who joins my division is immediately provided with their own dedicated, state-of-the-art laboratory equipped with world-class instruments. Should you choose to sign with us, I will personally secure the highest-level research team for you. We will authorize your funding at the company's absolute maximum allocation, guaranteeing your clinical trials face zero bureaucratic constraints."
"I am acutely aware of your company's formidable financial capabilities," Professor Torres replied politely. "However, I have already formally submitted this project to the hospital administration as an internal institutional initiative. If your group is genuinely interested in acquiring the patents, you will first need to battle it out with our legal department."
Professor Torres concluded the conversation, rounding the corner—and practically collided head-on with Nathan and Chloe.
Nathan instantly spotted the older man. He promptly released Chloe's waist, his posture instantly shifting to absolute professional respect. "Professor Torres."
The older doctor's face immediately lit up. He reached out, warmly patting Nathan's broad shoulder. "Nathan! You are exactly the man I was looking for. Regarding that highly classified research direction you proposed last month concerning neuroactive stabilization... I've actually developed some aggressive new hypotheses. Come back to my office right now. We need to run the math."
Nathan glanced down at Chloe. She immediately gave him a gentle, encouraging shove toward the doctor. "Go ahead. I'll just wait here for you."
Nathan smiled softly at her, gave a brief, utterly dismissive nod toward Anna, and immediately followed Professor Torres down the hall.
Chloe stood by the waiting area chairs, watching their retreating figures. Even though twenty-three years had violently passed, she recognized the older man instantly.
He had been Nathan's brilliant, incredibly demanding graduate advisor at the Pritzker School of Medicine. The man had always considered Nathan his absolute prodigy, frequently entrusting a twenty-year-old Nathan to run key, high-level research projects entirely on his own.
Just as Chloe turned around to find an empty seat to wait for her husband, a cool, perfectly modulated voice echoed behind her.
"Hello, Chloe."
Chloe froze. She turned around.
Standing a few feet away was a woman dressed in a flawlessly tailored, light gray designer suit. She had a sharp, immaculate, ear-length bob haircut. A pale green Hermes silk scarf was elegantly knotted at her neck, perfectly matching the black Birkin bag draped over her forearm.
The entire ensemble radiated the absolute, intimidating aura of an apex corporate predator.
"You are...?" Chloe asked politely, not immediately recognizing her. Then, her memory violently snapped into place. This was the exact same woman who had brazenly pretended to be Nathan's wife at his old mansion and deliberately misled her.
Chloe’s posture instantly shifted. Her spine straightened, her eyes narrowing as she braced for an absolute bloodbath.
So this was one of Nathan's desperate, persistent admirers!
She was going to permanently, violently resolve this nuisance right here in the hospital hallway.
"I'm Anna. Nathan's business partner," the woman approached elegantly, extending a perfectly manicured hand. "Actually, you should remember me. Nathan and I are University of Chicago alumni. You aggressively answered his cell phone several times when I called late at night to discuss academic matters."
Chloe’s eyes widened in realization. "Oh! I remember you now! You're Anna! The incredibly desperate girl who always deliberately stayed late in the chemistry lab! The one who miraculously only ever thought of Nathan when you 'needed help' with a basic equation, right?"
Back in college, there really had been a girl exactly like that—she had been pretty, but she hid behind a completely mousy, nerdy exterior to get close to the guys.
She had constantly used 'research discussions' as a pathetic excuse to orbit Nathan like a moth. She had especially loved texting him past midnight, begging him to urgently edit her papers.
Chloe and Nathan had actually had a massive fight about her in his dorm room. They had mutually agreed that Anna was completely crossing professional boundaries, and Nathan had sworn to set aggressive limits with her.
Looking at the polished, terrifying CEO standing in front of her, Chloe was genuinely stunned. Who would have thought that desperate little lab rat would evolve into something this stylish and dangerous?