Chapter 96: A Willing Sacrifice

Eliana stood there, frozen in shock. By the time she shook it off, a crowd had swarmed around, hoisting Mr. Wilkinson back onto his feet.

His head was still bleeding, a slow seep that turned the scene into a chaotic mess. People scrambled, trying to help.

Eliana was dazed, her mind a whirl. She hadn't expected this man to step in front of danger for her.

Why would he? Risking his life for a stranger?

"Mr. Wilkinson, are you alright?" someone shouted.

"Who's in charge of security here? Why wasn't the chandelier inspected?" another barked.

"Hurry up, get Mr. Wilkinson to the hospital!" a voice rang out.

Chase was reeling, his head spinning. He gestured for his assistant to help him up, and the assistant got the message quick.

He didn't want his identity revealed, especially not to his wife.

"Make way, folks. I've got to get Mr. Wilkinson to the hospital. Stay back, please," the assistant called out, clearing a path as he supported Chase.

Eliana, seeing this, dashed after them, catching up to slip her arm through Mr. Wilkinson's free one. "I'll come with you."

"No need," Chase replied, shaking off her touch.

If they got to the hospital and treated the wound, the mask would come off, and... he'd be recognized.

Eliana stared at her hand, pushed away. She looked at the man's cold retreating figure, surprise written all over her face.

The man who'd just risked everything to save her—why the sudden coldness?

Did he regret saving her?

The assistant hurried Chase away.

Back at the venue, Eliana was left standing there, bewildered. What was Mr. Wilkinson playing at now?

Mr. Wilkinson's heart was as unfathomable as the ocean's depths—a fitting description indeed.

...

Eliana returned home to find Chase gone without a trace. Her mind was a whirlwind of the evening's events, leaving no room to think about Chase.

She couldn't fathom why Mr. Wilkinson's attitude had turned so cold.

Aren't heroes supposed to bask in the glory after saving the day?

Yet, Mr. Wilkinson pushed her away, shunning the spotlight.

Eliana, unable to make sense of it all, decided not to overthink it. She pulled the covers over herself and drifted off to sleep.

The next day, at the crack of dawn, Eliana was jolted awake by the ringtone of her phone next to her bed.

Groggy, she answered, only to find it was Lyn on the other end.

Lyn had been working herself ragged and now found herself in the hospital, hooked up to an IV drip, with no one to look after her due to her assistant's insistence on work progress.

Eliana hung up and rushed to the hospital.

Armed with breakfast, she visited Lyn in the ward. In just a day or two, Lyn had lost weight, her face pale against her illness.

The once vibrant young lady of the wealthy Cattell family, now brought low by overwork—Eliana couldn't help but feel there was no excuse for the likes of her not to strive harder.

She fed Lyn some breakfast, and as soon as the color returned to her cheeks, Lyn was back on her phone, catching up on messages.

When the doctor made his rounds, seeing her determination, he prescribed two more nutrient-rich IV bags.

A bit later, as nurses entered to change the IV fluids, a casual conversation started.

"Did you see that handsome guy in the private room?" one nurse gushed.

"He's not just good-looking, his physique is amazing too," another chimed in. "But he won't let any female nurses in. Only male doctors attend to him."

"I heard he got hit by a chandelier, a deep gash on his head. It's going to take a while to heal," a third nurse added.

Eliana sprang up like a jack-in-the-box, gripping a nurse's arm, her expression tense. "Excuse me, which room is that gentleman in? I'm a friend of his."

Only Ethan fit that description, and she hadn't expected to find him in this hospital.

The nurse gave the room number, adding, "He's got bodyguards outside. They won't let anyone in they don't recognize."

Eliana nodded and turned to leave.

At the door of the ward, two stern bodyguards blocked her path.

"I know your Mr. Wilkinson. I want to see him," Eliana asserted.

The guards frowned. "Move along. Every woman here claims to know Mr. Wilkinson. If we let everyone in, what's the point of us being here?"

On the corridor's rest chairs sat a row of coquettishly dressed wealthy women, all there to capitalize on the news of Mr. Wilkinson's injury and curry favor.

Eliana wanted to explain, but recalling Mr. Wilkinson's attitude from the night before, she decided to leave.

"Let her in," a voice suddenly commanded.

The guards, taken aback, stepped aside, allowing Eliana to enter.

The room was steeped in the scent of disinfectant. A tall, imposing figure sat on the hospital bed, clad in a gown with a coat draped over his shoulders, his face entirely hidden behind a mask, revealing only a pair of piercing, deep-set eyes.

Feeling a bit awkward, Eliana broke the ice first, "Mr. Wilkinson, how's your wound?"

"Nothing serious, I didn't mean to worry you," Chase replied, his voice hoarse, unrecognizable.

Eliana was on edge, terrified that a single misstep in conversation could provoke this mercurial man.

"I'm glad to hear that. You rest well. I, last night..." she began.

Chase cut her off, "Miss Griffith, there's no need to feel guilty. Last night, it was my choice."

"Ah?"

His words sounded... odd. Yet, she couldn't pinpoint the strangeness.

Eliana didn't dare to press further and sincerely said, "I'm very grateful, Mr. Wilkinson."

"Miss Griffith, I've been disfigured for you, and all I get is a thank you?" Chase leaned back against the headboard, his gaze fixed on her with a playful challenge.

He was genuinely puzzled by what this woman was thinking. She hadn't replied to his messages all night, and she never seemed worried when he didn't come home.

It left him sleepless, and by dawn, he could only conclude that Eliana didn't care about him as a husband at all.

Eliana was taken aback, not grasping his implication, "Mr. Wilkinson, you're right. I'll cover all the medical expenses, and if there's a scar, I'll find the best beautician for you..."

Before she could finish, his mocking tone returned.

"Miss Griffith, who do you think you're insulting? Can't I afford a little medical expense?"

Eliana looked at him, bewildered once more.

Didn't he just say he acted willingly to protect her?

Why was he now arguing?

Chase clarified, "That's not what I want."

Eliana was wary, ideas forming in her mind, but she needed confirmation.

To avoid misunderstanding, she spoke calmly, "Mr. Wilkinson, I'm not sure what you're implying."

Chase was eager to know her true thoughts.

"I want you."

He looked up, meeting Eliana's gaze earnestly, "I can marry you. I can meet any condition you have, name your price."

Eliana narrowed her eyes, "Any condition, really?"

Chase felt a mix of emotion, as if pricked by a sharp object—this woman was still swayed by wealth and power.