Chapter 42 Breaking into the Hospital Ward

Chapter 42 Breaking into the Hospital Ward

"My business is none of your concern." Dylan didn't even spare her an extra glance, his tone icy cold. "If you dare to stir up trouble in front of her again, don't blame me for forgetting any ties with the Wilson family."

With that, he walked right past Daphne and strode away.

Daphne stood frozen in place, watching his resolute departing figure, her nails digging hard into her palms as poisonous jealousy spread wildly in her heart.

Meanwhile, in the hospital room, Grace was resting with her eyes closed when the door was suddenly pushed open.

Thinking it was the caregiver, she opened her eyes, only to meet a pair of bloodshot, crazed eyes.

Alfred hadn't left at all.

Like a lingering ghost, he had been hiding in the shadows, hearing every word of Dylan and Daphne's conversation.

Taking advantage of Dylan's absence, he barged right in.

"What are you doing here?" Grace's expression instantly turned cold, her eyes filled with undisguised disgust.

Alfred rushed to the bedside in a few steps, staring at her intently, his chest heaving violently. "Grace, tell me, have you really fallen for him? What the hell is Dylan? Is he worth risking your life to help him investigate accounts?! Just because he's been a little nice to you, you're already throwing yourself at him?"

Outside the door just now, watching Dylan act like it was perfectly natural for him to take care of her, jealousy had set his insides on fire.

"Alfred, are you sick?" Grace let out a cold laugh, looking at him like he was an unreasonable lunatic. "Who I help, who I fall for—what does that have to do with you? Don't forget, we're already divorced."

"I didn't agree to it!" Alfred's eyes were bloodshot as he suddenly reached out to grab Grace's wrist. "I don't believe you could forget me so quickly! You used to love me so much, how could you turn around and fall for that hypocrite Dylan! You're just angry at me, right?"

"Don't touch me!" Grace recoiled from his touch in disgust, enduring the sharp pain from her wound as she pressed the emergency call button at the bedside, her voice stern. "Get out! Or I'll call security right now!"

"Grace!" Alfred was stung by her coldness and let out a hysterical roar.

Before he could lose it completely, two hospital security guards had already rushed in.

"Get this lunatic out of here!" Grace pointed at Alfred, her tone devoid of any warmth. "And don't let him set foot in this room ever again!"

"Grace! You can't do this to me!" Alfred was forcibly lifted by the two burly security guards and dragged outside. He struggled, looking back desperately, his eyes full of unwillingness and despair, only to see Grace's cold back as she turned away.

Ten minutes later, Dylan returned to the room carrying shopping bags of various sizes, keenly sensing the lingering tension in the air. The caregiver was carefully pouring water for Grace.

"What happened?" Dylan set down his things and quickly walked to the bedside, his brow furrowed.

Grace took the water glass, took a deep breath, and suppressed the irritation in her heart. "Alfred barged in just now."

A flash of ice-cold murderous intent crossed Dylan's eyes.

He'd been so focused on shopping that he'd let that mad dog find an opening.

"I'm sorry, that was my oversight." Dylan's tone carried self-reproach.

"It's not your fault. He's like a piece of sticky gum." Grace looked up at Dylan, her tone serious. "Dylan, could you please help me hire some professional bodyguards? I don't want to see his face again, and I don't want to waste my energy on this meaningless harassment."

"Okay, I'll arrange it right away." Dylan agreed without hesitation.

He took out his phone and made several calls. Within half an hour, four burly, stern-faced bodyguards in black stood like iron towers, blocking the VIP room door completely.

The next morning.

Alfred still wouldn't give up.

He changed into a clean suit and carried champagne roses—Grace's former favorite—attempting to visit again.

As soon as he stepped out of the elevator, before he could get anywhere near the room, two expressionless bodyguards stopped him.

"Move aside! I'm here to see Zhiyu!" Alfred said with a dark face, trying to intimidate them with his presence.

The bodyguards remained unmoved, looking at him coldly. "Grace has instructed that you are not permitted to enter."

"You—!" Alfred's face turned livid with anger. He tried to force his way through, but the bodyguards unceremoniously pushed him back. He stumbled several steps, the roses scattering from his hands, their delicate petals crushed mercilessly under the bodyguards' shoes, ground into the dust.

Through the heavy door, he could see nothing. He could only leave the hospital, driven away by the bodyguards, filled with humiliation and unwillingness.

Inside the room, the sunlight was perfect.

Over the following days, Dylan completely fulfilled his promise.

He moved his office directly to the room's sitting area. Apart from handling the aftermath of Starlight Entertainment, he stayed by Grace's side every moment.

The professional caregiver handled the medical care and wound dressing, while Dylan took care of all the small, patience-requiring tasks.

Grace leaned against the headboard, watching the man sitting on the sofa reviewing documents with his head down.

Sunlight cast a soft golden glow on his refined profile. Gone was the ruthless decisiveness of the business world; at this moment, he radiated a reassuring gentleness.

"What are you daydreaming about?" Dylan seemed to sense her gaze and looked up, naturally setting down his pen and picking up a bowl of warm porridge from nearby, walking to the bedside.

He scooped up a spoonful, blew on it gently, and brought it to her lips, his movements so practiced it seemed he'd done it a thousand times before.

Grace's cheeks warmed slightly as she opened her mouth and swallowed.

During these days together, the understanding and affection between them had been quietly taking root in this small hospital room.

The room filled with the faint fragrance of porridge.

Grace looked at the porcelain spoon so close, and at Dylan's slender, elegant fingers, her heartbeat inexplicably skipping a beat.

She cleared her throat lightly, somewhat embarrassed, and avoided Dylan's focused and gentle gaze.

She'd always been used to handling everything herself. Being taken care of so carefully now made her feel somewhat uncomfortable.

"I can do it myself. My hands are fine now." Grace reached out to take the bowl from him, lowering her head to drink the porridge, trying to hide that trace of fluster.

In her heart, Dylan was a reliable ally, a friend worth keeping.

She was grateful for his life-saving help, but the unusual intimacy just now made her instinctively want to retreat.

"Thank you for all your hard work these past few days." Grace looked up, her tone sincere but polite. "When I'm discharged, I'll properly treat you to a meal to show my appreciation."