Chapter 114 This Man Is Hers
Emily stared blankly. "What do you mean?"
"I used to think that the best care I could provide for you would be marriage," Alexander said. "But now I realize I'm unwilling to do that."
He took a light sip of his coffee, his dark brows furrowing slightly. "I admit I've carried guilt about Brice all these years, but it's time I moved on."
Regarding Brice, his conscience was finally clear.
Emily's brow creased as her eyes reddened, but she didn't dare cry. The scratches on her face hadn't healed yet and were still infected—she knew tears would only cause another flare-up.
Yet hearing Alexander's decisive words left her emotionally uncontrolled. "Alexander... I..."
"I've already contacted the hospital you reached out to," Alexander continued. "Someone will meet you when you go abroad for treatment. I'll cover all expenses. You just need to focus on recovery. After you leave, don't come back."
He stood to leave.
Emily shot up frantically, tears glistening as she asked, "Are you sending me away?"
Alexander stood with his back to her, not turning around.
"Say something!" Emily pressed desperately. "Are you banishing me to another country?"
She suddenly lunged at him from behind, wrapping her arms tightly around his waist. "Alexander, please don't send me away! I was wrong—I know I was wrong! You spoiled me, made me too complacent, too presumptuous. I care about you so much that the more I care, the more I fear losing you."
Emily looked up with tears streaming down her face. "The more I care, the more anxious I become. I lost Brice, and you're the person who loves me most. I desperately need that secure feeling of safety. Alexander, don't send me away."
Alexander gently freed himself from her grasp and slowly turned around, looking down at her. "Emily, it's time you grew up."
With that, he gently released her hands and left the private room.
Emily collapsed to the floor, watching helplessly as the open door revealed Alexander's footsteps growing fainter in the distance. She tore off her mask and bit down on her knuckle.
She couldn't cry.
She hadn't lost yet.
Since she couldn't control his heart, she would follow Grace's example.
Alexander adored Liam so much, giving him all his attention, affection, and care. So if she bore him a son, wouldn't that make him reconsider?
During Alexander's coma, Emily had secretly taken some of his frozen sperm samples.
Although she really didn't want to use a child to bind this man's heart, she'd reached a point of no return.
Foreign countries had the most advanced technology.
She would definitely use this overseas trip to stage her comeback.
If Grace could bear a son, she could also rise through motherhood.
At this thought, Emily slowly stood up, clenching her fists so tightly that her sharp nails cut into her palms without her noticing.
She had mentally prepared herself for everything.
This man was hers!
Alexander was hers!
...
At the hospital, Grace had gradually progressed to walking around.
Liam and Max were both at school.
With a physical therapist's assistance and using a walker, she moved step by painful step.
Just walking from her bedside to the doorway left her drenched in sweat from the pain.
Physical rehabilitation was truly an agonizing and difficult process.
All her joints had stiffened. Each step felt like walking on knife blades. Her arms maintained an odd bent angle—she couldn't straighten them or use them for support, relying entirely on the therapist's assistance.
"Ms. Foster, careful now, take it slow—there's no rush," the therapist patiently encouraged. "For someone with injuries as severe as yours, being able to get out of bed and walk is already remarkable."
"I've only walked a few steps," Grace replied.
"You've been bedridden for so long without moving—your joints were bound to stiffen! Take your time."
"Okay."
Grace walked a bit further.
As she reached the corner, Grace suddenly saw a group of doctors in white coats approaching, apparently making rounds.
Grace couldn't help but look more closely, recognizing a particularly striking man among them.
Henry.
Why was he here?
Grace suddenly remembered—this was Radiant Wellness Center, a private hospital wholly owned by the Phillips Group.
The Phillips Group's core business was medical services, controlling multiple private hospitals. As the Phillips Group's sole heir, Henry had graduated from Saint Andrew School of Medicine with a focus on critical care medicine and held a doctoral degree.
Henry wore an immaculate white coat over a black shirt and trousers, his sleeves perfectly rolled up, his dark hair meticulously styled—neat and efficient. He possessed refined features, gentle as jade, impossibly handsome.
His gaze was suddenly drawn to something, and he stopped in his tracks.
Those beside him also halted.
"Mr. Phillips?"
Everyone was puzzled by his pause. Following his line of sight, their gazes collectively fell on Grace.
At that moment, Grace looked rather disheveled.
She wore a hospital gown backwards, and despite gaining some weight recently, she remained quite thin, making the gown hang loosely on her frame. Her face was pale, and she was still connected to an IV drip.
She hadn't expected to encounter Henry in such circumstances.
Memories of Henry seemed like something from the distant past.
Henry suddenly looked away and walked in the opposite direction, with everyone immediately following until they gradually disappeared around the corner.
Grace breathed a sigh of relief. Dressed as she was and so changed from before, Henry probably hadn't recognized her.
It was better he hadn't—it would have been awkward otherwise.
Beside her, the therapist remarked in wonder, "I thought you knew Mr. Phillips."
Grace shook her head. "I don't."
The therapist nodded, then couldn't help but sigh admiringly. "Mr. Phillips really is a young talent. At thirty, he's already pursuing his doctoral degree at Saint Andrew School of Medicine. Not only is he handsome and charming, but he's also the future heir to the Phillips Group."
"Is that so?" Grace smiled. "A doctorate from Saint Andrew School of Medicine—that's truly impressive."
Henry must be here to make rounds. She'd heard recently about a critical patient who'd been transferred here, fighting for their life.
"I'd like to visit the garden," Grace said.
She deliberately wanted to avoid Henry.
"Ms. Foster, you've already walked quite far today. Don't push yourself too hard," the therapist cautioned.
"I just want some fresh air," Grace explained. "After lying in bed for over a month, I haven't breathed fresh air in so long."
The therapist nodded. "Alright then, I'll accompany you to the garden."
She helped Grace to the elevator, down to the first floor, then walked with her step by step to the garden.
Grace seemed distracted and absent-minded, nearly stumbling several times.
Perhaps the unexpected encounter with Henry had been too sudden and caught her completely off guard.