Chapter 194 He Apologized
This time, the trap I set was a huge success!
Not only did we root out the security risks within the hotel, but Gale also screened the people around him, Lucas took the opportunity to strike at our enemies, and even Jonas unexpectedly caught a traitor.
After the board meeting ended, I suggested we have dinner together to celebrate. I asked Gale to invite Julie, but Gale showed a slightly awkward expression.
I looked at him carefully and realized I wasn't mistaken. I asked tentatively, "Gale, how are things between you and Julie lately?"
Gale fell silent.
I put my hand to my forehead. "Gale, you're too reserved. Don't always keep everything bottled up inside. Did you two have a fight?"
Gale hesitated, then nodded.
"Why did you fight?" I asked.
Gale twisted the ring on his left index finger. "Just a little misunderstanding."
Seeing Gale's discomfort, I said, "Okay, I won't pry. But if you need my help, you have to tell me."
"I will." Gale patted my shoulder. "Don't worry."
I muttered under my breath, "How can I not worry?"
The celebration dinner didn't happen for now, but we still had a simple lunch together.
After the meal, I couldn't wait to carry out the Sorelli family's "traditional activity"—sending prisoners and our enemies' bodies back home.
Some people might feel warmth from such gestures, while others think we're being too arrogant. But the assassins who had been watching me and Doyle for years found it familiar, and a rumor about "the Miracle Surgeon really making a comeback" quickly spread around the world.
In the morning, when I went out, I saw Lucas's car parked outside. I got in the car and suddenly realized that at some point, whenever Lucas came, I stopped taking my own car.
Even Cole and Adrian had gotten used to it, quietly getting into the car behind us.
"What are you thinking about?" Lucas asked me. When he leaned close, I could smell the faint scent of cedar.
I was very familiar with this scent. I had picked out many colognes for Lucas before, but this particular one smelled steady and crisp, with the cool clarity of howling snow winds and the subtle fragrance of pine wood—it really suited Lucas's temperament.
I looked Lucas over carefully, reached up to smooth out a barely noticeable wrinkle on his shirt, and asked him, "Did you eat breakfast?"
I suddenly realized I hadn't actively asked about Lucas's daily life in a long time.
After the divorce, we had gradually adapted to a new way of getting along.
Lucas paused for a moment. "I did."
I called out to Alfred sitting in the passenger seat. "Alfred, what did Lucas eat this morning?"
Before Lucas could stop him, Alfred answered, "Mrs. Valeri, Mr. Valeri had a cup of black coffee."
I couldn't help but frown. "Just that?"
Alfred continued, "The chef prepared toast, fried eggs, fried bacon, and considering nutritional balance, there was also oatmeal yogurt with vegetables and fruit, but Mr. Valeri said he didn't like eating, so the nutritionist bought lots of supplements and pills for Mr. Valeri to take."
Alfred opened the floodgates and started complaining to me at length. "How can those pills compare to real food? But Mr. Valeri always says he has no appetite, that he's too busy with work to eat properly. If this continues long-term, he'll definitely get sick! And Mr. Valeri goes to bed very late every night."
Lucas quickly glanced at me and kicked the passenger seat, warning Alfred, "That's enough!"
Alfred shut his mouth. The car was quiet for a moment, then Alfred spoke again. "Mrs. Valeri, please talk some sense into Mr. Valeri. How can he not take care of his health? I can't take good care of him—he won't listen to me, but he'll definitely listen to you."
Lucas pressed a button, raising the privacy screen between the front and back seats, cutting off Alfred's endless nagging.
"Alfred cares about you," I said.
Lucas replied, "I know."
I continued questioning him. "Lack of sleep, consuming lots of caffeine, plus high-intensity work and exercise—are you trying to die from overwork?"
"I'm not that easy to kill." Lucas took my hand, his warm palm covering the back of my hand, making no other movement, just quietly pressing against it, as if confirming my existence.
I pulled my hand back. "If you die, I'll find another man."
Lucas's brow instantly furrowed, his eyes seeming to brew a storm.
I flipped open Lucas's shirt collar and smoothed it back, pulled up his sleeve to look at his watch and cuffs, then straightened his sleeve before bending down to tug at Lucas's pants to see if his socks were new or old.
Lucas's brow gradually relaxed. He let me fuss over him, even looking a bit nervous. "Is something wrong with me?"
"No, you're fine," I said.
After carefully taking care of Lucas for three years, I had my own methods for judging his comfort level.
Lucas said hesitantly, "Bella, my shirt fabric has gotten rougher. It used to always be soft."
I gave him a sidelong glance. "It's probably because the wrong detergent was used, making the fabric stiff. I'll send Alfred a clothing care guide to give to whoever does your laundry."
I thought for a moment and asked, "How many housekeepers do you employ now? Do you have regular help?"
"No." Lucas pressed his lips together. "I wash my own clothes."
I looked at him in surprise. A flash of embarrassment and frustration crossed Lucas's eyes. "It's just putting clothes in the washing machine—it's not that hard."
I chuckled and said, "Well, you need to remember: dark and light colored clothes must be washed separately, soft and hard fabrics need different detergents, and underwear and socks can't be washed in the same machine—there are special washing machines for that."
I saw Lucas's brow furrow again and found it amusing. "Don't think it's too much trouble. You can leave it to professional housekeepers, or just wear something once and throw it away—you have money anyway, you can buy new clothes whenever you want."
I was teasing him, but Lucas explained seriously, "I don't think it's troublesome, and I don't like unfamiliar people touching my personal clothing. I just feel that..."
Lucas pressed his lips together. "You did so much for me before, and I didn't even know."
I hadn't expected Lucas to say this. For a moment I was at a loss. Lucas reached out and hugged me, his voice very soft. "I'm sorry."
A few seconds later, I came back to my senses and wordlessly patted his back.
More than ten minutes later, we arrived at Platinum Haven Hotel.
Roger said he was waiting for us outside the CT room.
Lucas brought up accompanying me for a follow-up exam on my right hand's old injury again. I couldn't resist him and had to agree.
Just as we walked through the door of the medical area, Jonas's voice called out from behind us. "Bella, wait for me!"
"Jonas?" I watched him get out of his car and run over. "Why are you here? Are you sick or injured?"
"I came to find you!" Jonas glared at Lucas. "He's been blocking me from seeing you. I'm afraid he has bad intentions toward you!"
Lucas snorted coldly. "This is between my wife and me—stay out of it!"
"Do I need to emphasize this again?" Jonas pointed at Lucas. "You two! Are! Already! Divorced!"
Here we go again.
I left the two bickering men behind and strode forward.
Lucas grabbed the back of Jonas's collar, Jonas stepped on his foot, and the two pulled at each other. "Bella, wait for me!"
I smiled, my steps light and quick. I turned back with a bright smile. "Hurry up, you two!"