Chapter 92
Evelyn didn't care whether Matthew slept well or not. She slept just fine.
The next morning, she got up early and stood in front of the mirror, applying her makeup with meticulous care.
Since Matthew said he wanted her to relax, she would relax. As for the conference? Whatever.
Matthew was already a light sleeper, and the noise woke him up.
He stood in the bedroom doorway, watching Evelyn apply her makeup in the mirror, a wave of complicated emotions rising in his chest.
"Eve, how did you sleep last night?" he asked, his voice hoarse.
"Pretty well."
"I didn't." Matthew walked over, his tone tinged with grievance. "I didn't sleep at all last night."
"These past few days... I've been feeling terrible."
Evelyn let out a cold laugh.
She turned to look at him. "You're feeling terrible? My body's still suffering."
"Matthew, why don't you go watch some educational videos? Do you have any idea how much damage a miscarriage does to a woman's body?"
Matthew fell silent.
Evelyn ignored him, grabbed her purse, and headed for the door.
"Where are you going?" he asked instinctively.
Evelyn turned back, her lips curving into a faint smile. "Didn't Mr. Perkins say you wanted me to relax?"
"I'm planning to go for a walk on the beach. You just focus on your conference, and don't bother me unless it's important."
With that, she pushed through the door and left.
Matthew stood there, watching her retreating figure, unable to say a word.
The conference didn't start until the afternoon.
Matthew sat alone on the suite's sofa, feeling bored.
Beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows was a brilliant blue seascape, but he couldn't take any of it in.
Evelyn's words kept echoing in his mind.
Almost possessed, he opened his laptop and started searching.
A clip from a childbirth documentary popped up.
At four months, the fetus was already fully formed. During a miscarriage, nurses had to use enormous forceps to remove the baby from the birth canal.
If the miscarriage wasn't complete, a dilation and curettage procedure would be necessary.
Matthew's face grew paler and paler.
With trembling hands, he closed the video and leaned back on the sofa, covering his eyes with his hands.
But those images wouldn't go away.
The pain he had deliberately ignored and forcefully suppressed now swept over him like a roaring tsunami, impossible to calm.
His already taut nerves completely snapped.
Between consecutive sleepless nights, business trips, and massive emotional turmoil, he fell ill.
His stomach and abdomen twisted with pain. He curled up on the sofa, unable to straighten his body.
He didn't call Thomas. Instead, he instinctively dialed Evelyn's number.
The phone rang several times before she picked up.
The background noise was somewhat chaotic—she must be near some street vendors.
"What is it?" Evelyn's voice was flat.
"Eve." Matthew's voice was extremely weak. "I'm sick. Can you come back and keep me company?"
Silence on the other end.
"If you're not feeling well, call a doctor. What's the point of calling me?" Evelyn shot back. "I don't have any medicine."
Matthew pressed his lips together.
"I'll wait for you to come back," he said, then hung up.
Evelyn stood on the beach, looking at the bright sunshine and the crowds of people coming and going.
The sea breeze carried a salty dampness.
She was debating whether to go back.
She knew Matthew's temperament—nine times out of ten, he wouldn't call a doctor himself.
She wanted to leave him hanging, but she also worried something might actually happen to him.
After thinking it over, she still called Thomas.
"Thomas? Matthew's having an acute gastritis attack. Can you contact his private doctor for him? He's in the room."
"Understood." Thomas agreed.
That phone call disrupted her mood for sightseeing.
She bought some local beach specialties and slowly made her way back.
Matthew lay on the sofa, drifting in and out of consciousness.
Hearing the door open, he instinctively looked over, expecting to see Evelyn's figure.
But it was Thomas who walked in, followed by the traveling physician.
"Mr. Perkins, how are you feeling?" Thomas asked with concern.
But Matthew didn't answer his question.
"Where's Evelyn?" he asked. "Didn't she come with you?"
Thomas froze. "Isn't she with you?"
Matthew's expression grew even more dejected. He lay on the sofa without a word.
The doctor took his temperature and examined him, finally diagnosing him with acute gastritis caused by low immunity.
Soon, Matthew was alone in the room again.
When Evelyn opened the door, this was the scene that greeted her.
Matthew curled up on the sofa, his face pale, his brow furrowed.
She actually felt a bit satisfied.
She ignored the person on the sofa, set the food she'd bought on the dining table, and prepared to eat lunch.
Since getting pregnant, her appetite had increased considerably. If she didn't eat when mealtime came, she'd feel anxious.
Matthew actually heard her come back.
He'd been pretending to sleep, thinking Evelyn would come over to check on him. Instead, she acted like he didn't exist.
He frowned and looked at her.
"Eve, come here," he said, his voice low.
Evelyn didn't even look up. "So what if I don't?"
Matthew fell silent for a moment.
"Don't push me," he said. "I don't want to threaten you with the people around you."
Evelyn cursed under her breath.
She put down her utensils, got up, and walked to the sofa.
"Do you want water?" she asked coldly.
"Yes."
Evelyn got him a glass of water. But Matthew didn't take it, gesturing for her to feed him.
Evelyn rolled her eyes.
She endured it, holding up the glass to give him water, then ordered him a light lunch.
Matthew must have really been exhausted.
Not long after lunch, he leaned back on the sofa and fell asleep again. But his arm remained locked around Evelyn's waist, unwilling to let go.
Evelyn looked down at him.
Asleep, he didn't seem quite so hateful.
Her feelings were complicated.
After thinking about it, she didn't wake him, but closed her eyes to rest as well.
Not much later, Thomas came knocking.
"Mr. Perkins, it's time for the scheduled meeting. Are you still attending?"
Matthew nodded, signaling Thomas to wait downstairs.
He put on his suit and looked at Evelyn.
Evelyn obligingly picked up a tie and fastened it for him.
She chose randomly, not caring whether it matched his suit.
Matthew watched her compliant demeanor, feeling slightly better.
"Do I have to go too?" Evelyn asked.
"You just need to stay with me," he said. "You don't need to do anything."
Evelyn thought she might as well broaden her horizons and gain some experience.
She changed from her sundress into a long dress, swapped her sandals for flats, and followed Matthew to the conference hall.
Before the meeting started, there was a relaxed cocktail reception for networking.
Matthew kept his arm around her waist, introducing her to everyone who came to clink glasses. "This is my wife, Evelyn."
Evelyn maintained a polite smile on her face, but inside she'd cursed him ten thousand times.
Wife? What nerve. As if he deserved that.
During the intermission, she dragged Matthew to the stairwell.
"What exactly are you trying to do?" she demanded in a low voice. "Why are you telling people I'm your wife?"
Matthew looked at her.
His voice turned cold, utterly serious.
"Whether you agree or not, you will become my wife."
"I've already checked the calendar. The weather will be perfect on the tenth of next month. We'll have the wedding then."
"Just be good and don't make me angry, okay?" Matthew gripped her chin, his eyes full of obsession.
He carefully cradled Evelyn's face and kissed her gently.