Chapter 201 In Case of Emergency, Call Honey
The next morning dawned bright and clear.
When Emma woke, the space beside her in bed was already empty, retaining only the faintest trace of warmth.
She had barely sat up when her phone rang.
It was Leon calling.
"Ms. Rodriguez, the patient is having a particularly good day today. Would you like to come take a look?"
Emma agreed readily. "Of course, I'll be right over."
After hanging up, she dialed Evelyn's number.
It rang several times before being answered by a soft, drowsy voice.
"Hello..."
"Rise and shine, sleepyhead."
"I'm so tired... I just want to sleep..." Evelyn rolled over in bed, her voice thick with sleepiness.
Emma couldn't help but smile.
"Then keep sleeping. I'll come back for lunch with you at noon."
She paused, then added, "I'll have breakfast sent to your room."
"You're the best," Evelyn mumbled before hanging up.
The person delivering breakfast to Evelyn was Luke.
He stood outside her door with a breakfast tray, pressing the doorbell repeatedly.
No one answered.
There wasn't a sound from inside.
A spike of alarm shot through Luke's chest, an ominous feeling washing over him.
Without hesitation, he pulled out a spare keycard from his pocket and swiped it through the reader.
The moment he stepped inside, he saw the small figure curled up on the tiny bed.
The blankets had been kicked to the foot of the bed, leaving her pale, slender legs exposed to the cool air.
His throat constricted as he set down the tray and approached quietly.
"Evelyn," he called softly.
The woman on the bed stirred slightly, mumbling incoherently, "Don't bother me..."
Luke leaned down, reaching out to shake her awake, but the moment his fingertips touched her arm, the scorching temperature made his heart clench.
She was burning up!
He immediately pressed his hand to her forehead, and the heat radiating from her skin sent panic coursing through him.
He quickly pulled out his phone and made a call, his voice tight with urgency.
"Send a doctor over here immediately!"
Evelyn had developed a fever.
The thermometer read 102.7°F.
It could have been from getting chilled during the night, or perhaps she wasn't adapting well to the change in environment.
Luke stared at those numbers, his heart twisted in knots.
He specifically informed the doctor, "She's pregnant. Ten weeks along."
Upon hearing this, the doctor could only prescribe a mild oral solution with minimal side effects, instructing Luke to focus primarily on physical cooling methods before departing.
Luke sat beside the bed with alcohol-soaked cotton pads.
He took her small hand in his, carefully wiping down her palm with the cotton balls.
Her face was flushed crimson with fever, her lips cracked and dry, her brow furrowed in discomfort.
After finishing with her hands, he moved to her feet.
Finally, his gaze settled on the neckline of her nightgown.
He unbuttoned the top two buttons of her sleepwear, the cotton pad dampened with cool alcohol, gently wiping across her fevered skin, trailing downward.
A wave of inexplicable heat rose in his own body, his breathing growing heavy.
He carefully helped her turn onto her side, wiping down her back with the same gentle attention.
After completing these ministrations, he poured a glass of warm water, using a small spoon to feed it to her drop by drop.
Partway through, she suddenly awakened.
Her eyes were half-open, filled with moisture and completely unfocused.
She grabbed his hand, clutching it tightly.
"Hawk..."
She called that name over and over in a hoarse voice.
"I miss you..."
"Where did you go? I miss you so much, Hawk..."
Without warning, she burst into tears, sobbing as if her heart would break.
Luke felt his own heart shattering.
He swept her into his arms, holding her tightly, his palm stroking her back again and again as he spoke in a tenderness he'd never shown before.
"Don't cry, don't cry. I'm here. I've always been here."
She cried for a long time before the sobs gradually subsided, and she fell into a deep sleep once more.
When Evelyn woke again, her fever had broken.
She stared blankly at the ceiling above her head.
Her mind felt muddled, as if she'd experienced a very long, very vivid dream.
In the dream, there had been Luke.
He had kissed her, held her close.
She must be losing her mind.
She smacked her forehead sharply, trying to banish the man's face from her thoughts.
Meanwhile, Emma hailed a cab outside the hotel, following the location Dr. Leon had sent her toward First General Hospital.
The car wound through the bustling city center before heading west.
Suddenly, there was a sharp screech of brakes, and the vehicle lurched forward violently.
Emma instinctively protected her stomach with her hands, her body pitching forward with the momentum.
The driver cursed and stuck his head out to assess the situation, then turned to her apologetically.
"Sorry about that, we've been rear-ended. I need to get out and handle this."
With that, he unbuckled his seatbelt and exited the vehicle.
Emma checked the GPS—they were still seven or eight kilometers from the hospital.
She immediately called Dr. Leon.
"I've run into a situation. My cab was rear-ended and we're stuck in traffic."
"Stay exactly where you are. I'll send a car to pick you up," Dr. Leon's voice was steady and reassuring.
Emma ended the call.
Up ahead, her driver was engaged in a heated argument with the other driver, gesticulating wildly.
She decided to step out for some fresh air.
Behind them, a long line of cars had formed, horns honking incessantly.
That's when she caught sight of four or five men in black masks approaching her position from the sidewalk, moving with casual but deliberate intent.
Their target was clearly her.
Emma's pupils contracted sharply.
A wave of dread crashed over her heart.
Without hesitation, she spun around and broke into a full sprint in the opposite direction.
Sure enough, the footsteps behind her immediately became urgent as the men gave chase.
Could this be another one of Zoe's schemes?
That psychotic woman was like a persistent nightmare.
No—she absolutely couldn't let anything happen to her. She had unfinished business tonight!
Terror wrapped around her like countless icy fingers, threatening to suffocate her from all directions.
She ran desperately forward, cursing herself for not keeping up with fitness during her university years.
Just then, a familiar figure appeared through the crowd ahead.
The man stood in the middle of the street, tall and straight as a pine tree, with all the surrounding chaos serving as mere backdrop to his commanding presence.
He saw her and strode toward her with long, confident steps.
In that moment, he was like a beam of light tearing through endless darkness.
Emma felt a surge of relief and joy, calling out without thinking.
"Nicholas!"
Nicholas opened his arms wide.
Like a bird returning to its nest, she flew straight into his embrace.
His solid chest, warm arms, and that clean, crisp scent that was uniquely his—it all combined to instantly calm her panic.
Finally, she was in his arms again.
This embrace brought her infinite peace.
His strong hands patted her back gently as his deep voice murmured in her ear, "Don't be afraid. I'm here. No one can hurt you."
His tone carried a power that could steady anyone's nerves.
Suddenly, he raised his eyes, and his previously gentle expression turned razor-sharp.
He spoke to the air with absolute authority, "Surround them. Don't let a single one escape, including those two drivers."
The moment he finished speaking, seven or eight bodyguards in black suits materialized from nowhere, moving with swift precision to encircle both the pursuing men and the two drivers who were still arguing.
The situation was instantly under control.
Emma stared in amazement.
Before she could fully process what was happening, Nicholas scooped her up in his arms and strode toward a black Maybach parked nearby.
He looked down at her still-stunned expression with a hint of exasperation.
"Did you forget everything Charlie taught you?"
"In emergency situations, you're supposed to call out 'Thunderstorm'—my people are everywhere around you."
Emma blinked, then remembered.
She felt slightly embarrassed but wasn't about to admit it easily. "I was too scared—it slipped my mind."
She paused, then added quietly, "Besides... that code word is kind of awful. It's embarrassing."
Nicholas's steps faltered briefly, and he actually nodded in agreement. "You're right."
He settled her into the car, leaning close so his warm breath brushed her cheek.
"Let's change it to 'honey' then."
"From now on, whenever you're in trouble, just call out 'honey' and I'll appear instantly. How's that?"
His eyes held endless adoration, his voice clearly coaxing.
Emma rolled her eyes, though her ears turned secretly red.
"That's even worse. No way."
He frowned. "Worse?"
He leaned even closer, practically breathing the words into her ear. "Why don't you try it out? Let me hear how it sounds."
Emma laughed despite herself. "In your dreams."
Watching her laughing eyes, his throat bobbed.
The next second, his burning kiss descended without warning, forceful yet irresistibly gentle, coaxing her response.
But she remained stubbornly silent throughout—this time, she was truly determined to resist!
In the end, Emma never made it to the hospital to see the patient. Nicholas forcibly brought her back to the hotel, specifically to the presidential suite—that tiny bed from the night before had left him aching all over.
No one knew exactly what kind of shameless tactics he employed in that room, how one kiss led to another until they nearly crossed the line several times.
At lunchtime, he stepped out to take a phone call.
Emma went to find Evelyn for lunch. Evelyn had no idea she'd been running a fever, assuming she'd simply been exhausted and had taken an extended nap.
That evening, they dressed in elegant gowns, and Luke personally came to escort them the White family's recognition ceremony.
The car glided smoothly into the grounds of White Mansion.
This wasn't just an estate—it was practically a palace.
The sprawling complex covered three million square feet in Empire City's exclusive eastern suburbs, where land was worth more than gold. The sheer wealth required for such a property was staggering.
The White family was undoubtedly Empire City's most prestigious dynasty.
Their ancestors had abandoned politics for business, building this tremendous fortune from nothing.
The current patriarch, Oliver White, held significant political influence and wielded considerable power.
His wife Luna came from an intellectual family—her father was a renowned painter, and their own wealth was substantial.
This kind of background represented the ultimate power couple, absolutely breathtaking in scope.
Tonight, the entire manor blazed with lights, bright as day.
One luxury vehicle after another swept through the gates, filling the massive parking area to the right of the main residence.
Hundreds of premium cars representing every prestigious brand created what looked like a mobile auto show.
Above them, the whir of helicopter rotors grew closer as two private aircraft descended toward the landing pad in the distance.
The recognition ceremony for the White family's long-lost daughter, missing for eighteen years, had drawn national attention.
This wasn't simply a celebration.
This was a reshuffling of Empire City's entire social hierarchy.
All the invited young elites arrived in full formal attire, eager to forge connections with the White family.
Especially since the identity of the White family's daughter was no longer secret—she was none other than the currently red-hot A-list actress, Zoe.
She was known across the industry for her unwavering dedication to her craft, and her reputation remained spotless, save for the recent whispers connecting her to Nicholas.
Impeccable character, excellent public image.
Combined with that stunning face, and now the addition of White family heiress status.
Every bachelor in attendance was chomping at the bit, their eyes gleaming with undisguised ambition.
Whoever could win her favor would essentially achieve instant success.
Before long, two understated luxury sedans pulled up in front of the main residence.
Luke personally exited the vehicle and walked around to the other side, opening the door with perfect gentlemanly courtesy.
Two stunning figures emerged one after the other.
The moment Emma and Evelyn stepped into the grand ballroom, even the air seemed to pause.
The opulence was overwhelming.
A massive crystal chandelier descended from the third-floor dome, its brilliant light illuminating every corner of the hall with dazzling radiance.
Along the eastern and western walls stretched two long galleries of artwork, displaying priceless original masterpieces.
The central area had been arranged as a dance floor, surrounded by rare flowers flown in specially for the occasion, their rich fragrance floating through the air—intense but not overwhelming.
When the guests caught sight of the two beauties who had just entered, the entire room fell momentarily silent.
Every eye was drawn to them.
Emma possessed an ethereal coolness while Evelyn radiated vibrant warmth—standing together, each was stunning in her own way, both breathtakingly beautiful.
Quite a few men holding champagne flutes were already preparing to approach for introductions.
However, Luke stood at Evelyn's side.
He did nothing except stand there casually, but his imposing figure and commanding presence naturally formed a barrier that made the would-be suitors think twice.
The crowd could only whisper among themselves from a distance.
"Who's that woman? Mr. White brought her himself."
"Never seen her before, but with looks like that... is she Mr. White's girlfriend?"
The butler hurried over and whispered something in Luke's ear.
Luke nodded slightly, then turned to address Evelyn and Emma.
"Please make yourselves comfortable. I need to step away briefly."
"I'll be back soon."
With that, he turned and walked toward the staircase, his tall frame heading for the second floor.
Emma and Evelyn made their way to the art gallery.
Evelyn stared at the paintings in absolute rapture.
"Oh my God, this light treatment, these brushstrokes—perfection! Nothing beats seeing the originals!"
"If I could analyze this piece for my thesis, even my advisor would worship me."
Evelyn studied fine arts, so viewing masterpieces was like a fan meeting their idol. Her eyes were bright with excitement as she moved from one richly colored work to the next, offering enthusiastic commentary.
Emma, however, showed little reaction.
She slowed her steps, drawn to a piece that looked completely out of place, and finally came to a halt before it.
This painting stood in stark contrast to everything around it.
On white canvas, there were only a pair of tiny footprints, alongside several messy little handprints.
There was no artistic technique to speak of—it looked like random impressions, almost jarringly crude.
Yet somehow, the painting's title was "Beloved."
In the lower left corner was Mr. Johnson's signature, clearly indicating this was a master's work.
Emma's gaze locked onto those innocent little footprints.
Her mind went completely blank.
A memory crashed into her consciousness without warning, making her heart skip a beat...