Chapter 223 Her Guard is Very High
Even though they hadn't woken Anna, Mike and Natalie still loaded them up with bags of things—jam, lasagna, all sorts of items Anna had prepared before the holiday and stored in the fridge, waiting for Arabella's visit so she could take them home.
Alexander had arranged for a car. The trunk was stuffed full—heavy with the love of family.
On the drive back, the driver took the wheel while Arabella and Alexander sat in the back. She was feeling somewhat uncomfortable until Alexander pulled out a bag of peanuts.
"Just had someone buy these. They're nice and crispy. Try them."
Arabella was utterly shocked. "You..."
Alexander thought she didn't want them. "Don't like peanuts? I bought several different kinds—want to try something else?"
He picked up the brown bag beside him and started pulling out package after package of nuts.
Arabella was speechless.
"It's not that I don't like them," she said, eyes downcast, as if explaining casually. "It just feels out of place. This kind of thing, with you, with your car—it doesn't fit."
A billionaire CEO going out to buy nuts, sitting in a Porsche cracking peanuts—who would ever imagine such a thing? This was supposed to be her kind of life, while billion-dollar CEOs and Porsches belonged to his.
Two lines that should never have intersected, tangled together by some twist of fate. Just like him and her.
Alexander frowned. "What about me? I'm human too. I eat, same as everyone else. I went to school, I work. My success just comes from the foundation my family gave me. Me buying a Porsche is no different from an ordinary person working hard for a few years to buy a commuter car."
Arabella smiled. "Meeting you has slowly demystified rich people for me."
Alexander laughed. "What's there to mystify? We're all the same—one nose, one mouth, two arms, two legs. So what if someone's rich? Rich people still can't win over the girl they love."
That last sentence came out particularly resentful.
Arabella immediately felt guilty. She tried to explain. "I'm not—"
"You don't have to say it. I understand." Alexander quickly cut her off. "It's my choice. It has nothing to do with you."
Even though he said that, Arabella still felt uncomfortable.
Alexander could certainly see her emotional shift. Before, he would have thought she was just kind and sensitive. But ever since Frank told him about smiling depression, seeing Arabella react this way just made his heart ache. She was too kind—she even felt rejecting someone was her own fault.
But loving her was his business. Just being able to love her made him happy. He'd never really demanded she give him an answer.
Alexander blamed himself for making her overthink again and changed the subject. "The wellness counselor I found is a young woman. She studied under a world-class physician. This afternoon when you meet her, cooperate fully and see how it goes."
Arabella nodded, not taking it too seriously. In her view, wellness counseling, psychological therapy—all that stuff was pretty abstract. People had to rely on themselves. Some hurdles you could cross through your own ability; if you couldn't, well, that was just how it was.
She'd only agreed to go with Alexander because he said it was good for the babies. She figured rich people probably cared more about that sort of thing. She didn't want to spoil his enthusiasm.
Maybe because she'd gotten up too early, or maybe because of the pregnancy, Arabella felt physically exhausted now. But when she closed her eyes, she couldn't sleep. She stared blankly at the scenery flashing by outside, her mood growing inexplicably irritable.
Alexander had been watching her. Seeing the agitation creeping into her expression, he asked, "Not feeling well? Let me massage you."
He raised his hand to press on Arabella's temples. Her heart jumped. She quickly suppressed her emotions, smiled at him, and shook her head. "You don't have to."
Alexander ignored her refusal. He firmly guided her toward him, having her lie down with her head on his lap, then gently massaged her temples.
Arabella felt awkward at first, but his hands seemed to have magic in them, stripping away all her exhaustion. Before she knew it, she'd closed her eyes.
Actually, Arabella's sleep had been poor lately. Sometimes she stayed up late, sometimes she woke early, sometimes she jolted awake in the middle of the night and couldn't fall back asleep. This drive back to Majestic City was the first time in ages she'd slept soundly.
However long Arabella slept, Alexander watched her for just as long.
Seeing how even in sleep, the sorrow between her brows wouldn't fade, he hated himself even more for not noticing sooner.
His persistence had ultimately placed this enormous pressure on her.
Two hours later, the car stopped outside a sleek high-rise in Majestic City.
Alexander gently woke Arabella. "Arabella, don't sleep yet. We're here."
Arabella jerked awake, her body involuntarily shuddering. Alexander immediately pulled her into his arms, patting her back and softly reassuring her. "It's okay, it's okay. I'm here. I'll protect you."
Arabella slowly relaxed in his embrace, then gently pushed him away, smiling sheepishly. "I think I had a nightmare."
Though she couldn't remember what she'd dreamed, it must have been bad.
Alexander just made a sound of acknowledgment.
He opened the car door and helped her out.
They entered the modern building and took the elevator to the 21st floor. As soon as the doors opened, everything in sight was warm white walls, as if they'd stepped into a pure white space that cleared away every stray thought.
The air carried a faint, pleasant scent—she couldn't identify what it was, but it magically made her feel relaxed.
Arabella was starting to think this wellness therapy might actually have something to it. At the very least, she felt relaxed now.
They stopped at a door, and Alexander knocked. The door quickly opened, revealing a casually dressed man who looked at Alexander politely. "Mr. FitzRoy? Dr. Griffin is waiting inside for you."
He led them in.
What surprised Arabella was that beyond this door, there were more doors. She counted—they passed through four doors total before finally standing in front of Dr. Griffin.
Arabella felt like a chrysalis being wrapped up, protected by layer after layer of cocoon. It felt safe.
Just as Alexander had said, Dr. Griffin was a young woman, probably around Arabella's age. She had a round face with a naturally warm expression, her hair pulled back in a low ponytail. She wasn't wearing a white coat—instead, she wore clothes in pale yellow, pale pink, and pale blue that blended and transitioned together. The color combination was soft and comfortable.
"Mr. FitzRoy, hello." Dr. Griffin greeted Alexander first, then turned to Arabella with a smile. "Shall we begin?"
Arabella instinctively smiled back. "Okay."
Dr. Griffin's expression paused slightly. Her gaze discreetly assessed Arabella for a second before she continued smiling. "Then let's have Mr. FitzRoy wait outside for now."
Alexander froze. "I can't stay with her?"
"I'm afraid not," Dr. Griffin said. "Wellness therapy requires a completely relaxed environment. She won't be able to relax with you here."
Alexander had no choice but to follow the assistant outside.
Arabella felt inexplicably nervous. Dr. Griffin smiled and pointed to a chair nearby. "Have a seat."
Arabella obediently sat down.
She sat very properly, back straight, hands folded in her lap, looking at Dr. Griffin like an elementary school student waiting for the next instruction.
Dr. Griffin couldn't help but smile. "You don't need to be so tense. Relax. We're just going to chat. Ms. Bourbon, how old are you?"
"I just turned 31," Arabella answered.
Dr. Griffin looked surprised. "Really? You don't look it at all. You must usually have a great mindset—you don't look your age at all."
Arabella smiled shyly. "Not really."
Dr. Griffin smiled. "I heard you're pregnant—with twins, no less. Congratulations! These babies must be very much anticipated."
Arabella nodded. "Yes, Alex and I are both looking forward to their arrival. Becoming a mother is something to be happy about."
Dr. Griffin continued smiling warmly. "That's wonderful. Sit here for a moment—I'll get some water."
She turned and left the room, approaching Alexander who was sitting on the sofa watching the monitor. "Mr. FitzRoy, Ms. Bourbon has very strong defenses. I may need to use hypnosis. I wanted to let you know in advance."
Alexander frowned. "Strong defenses?"
He'd been watching the therapy monitor—Dr. Griffin had provided this convenience so patients' families could better understand the patient's condition and guide them better in daily interactions or avoid touching on sensitive points.
In the monitor, Arabella had only said a few sentences, all very appropriate. He hadn't noticed anything unusual.
"Yes, her defenses are very high. The self she presents isn't her real self—it's the self others expect her to be. She's hidden her true feelings and presents a perfect version. This behavior doesn't happen without reason. I need to find the root cause, and hypnosis is essential."
Alexander didn't understand the field. "Will hypnosis harm her?"
Dr. Griffin shook her head. "No. When she wakes up, she won't remember what we talked about."
"Then please use hypnosis," Alexander said. "Please help her."
Dr. Griffin saw the pleading in his eyes and nodded silently.
This patient was actually somewhat troublesome. She'd agreed to take this case as a favor, but the patient's situation was complex and her background so powerful that it tied Dr. Griffin's hands. She couldn't use any effective treatments that had side effects, no matter how minor—the man before her wouldn't agree to them.
She sighed quietly to herself and returned to the room.
Arabella still sat there obediently.
Dr. Griffin set the water bottle on the table and casually flicked the exterior of the thermos, smiling. "This bottle was a gift from my teacher. I carry it with me everywhere. After all these years, it still keeps things warm perfectly."
A clear, echoing sound resonated through the room, gradually softening, lightening, until it disappeared completely.
Dr. Griffin turned around. Arabella had already closed her eyes, her whole body peacefully slumped in the chair.