Chapter 283

Chapter 283
Ophelia’s POV

"Who is it?" I called weakly, my voice barely carrying across the small room.

"The doctor," came the reply.

Finnegan shot me a warning look. We quickly adjusted our clothing—I tugged my nightgown down while he buttoned his slightly disheveled shirt—before he opened the door.

A distinguished older gentleman with a medical bag entered, nodding professionally toward Finnegan before turning his attention to me.

I settled back against my pillows as Finnegan replaced the melting ice pack on my forehead with a fresh one. His fingers felt wonderfully cool against my burning skin.

The doctor checked my temperature, examined my throat, and eventually prescribed several medications, which he handed to Finnegan.

"If the fever doesn't break by tomorrow morning, she might need an injection," the doctor explained, packing his equipment.

"Understood," Finnegan replied curtly.

After the doctor left, Finnegan meticulously arranged the medication bottles on my nightstand, his movements precise and controlled.

"This one is three times daily, two pills each time. This one twice daily, one pill each time. And this one, also three times daily, two capsules each time," he instructed, his voice leaving no room for negotiation. "Follow the schedule precisely. Take one round now, and another before bed tonight."

He brought me a glass of water, watching intently as I swallowed the first dose.

"I haven't eaten properly for two days straight," I complained, feeling a genuine pang of hunger. The fever had suppressed my appetite, but now, with Finnegan here, I felt strangely better.

Finnegan frowned, his blue eyes studying me clinically. "You should stay at my place for the next couple of days."

"Really?" I couldn't hide my surprise—or my excitement.

"Lance will come pick you up shortly," he said, already reaching for his phone.

I immediately tried to get up, eager to pack my things before he changed his mind.

"Stay in bed," he commanded.

"No, I need to pack," I insisted, pushing myself up despite the dizziness that threatened to overwhelm me.

Ignoring his disapproving look, I moved to my closet and began pulling out designer outfits I'd splurged on before the trip. I stuffed them into my suitcase along with several cosmetics and toiletries.

"You're only staying for two days!" Finnegan pointed out, exasperation evident in his voice.

"I need options," I explained, unable to suppress my grin. "Besides, I might run out of clothes. Don't worry, I can always borrow one of your dress shirts if necessary."

His jaw tightened. "I mind!"

The doorbell rang again, interrupting our banter. Lance stood in the hallway with Vivian behind him, a wheelchair at the ready.

"Good evening, Ms. Clarke," Vivian greeted me, her tone professional but distinctly cool.

I smiled brightly in return, feeling victorious despite my illness. "Hello, Vivian."

"Lance, help her with the luggage," Finnegan instructed.

Lance stepped forward, taking the heavy suitcase from my hands. I surrendered it gratefully, my strength already waning.

As Finnegan settled into his wheelchair, Vivian positioned herself behind it, ready to push. I stepped forward impulsively.

"Let me push him," I insisted.

Vivian's expression hardened. "You're ill, Ms. Clarke. You should conserve your energy."

"I'm feeling much better already," I countered, moving closer.

Finnegan intervened, his hand catching my wrist. "What's the problem?"

"No problem at all," I replied innocently, though my pulse quickened at his touch.

I noticed Vivian's eyes narrowing at our interaction, her posture stiffening slightly. I suppressed a smile, secretly pleased by her reaction.

When Finnegan released my hand, I touched my forehead dramatically. "Actually, I think my fever's getting worse."

Finnegan frowned, reaching up to check my temperature. I obligingly lowered my head, allowing his cool palm to press against my skin.

"Continue with the cold compress when we get back," he instructed.

"Yes, of course," I agreed meekly, shooting a sidelong glance at Vivian. I knew it was petty to flaunt my connection with Finnegan in front of her, but I couldn't help myself.

We made our way to the elevator and through the hotel lobby. Once inside the luxurious car, the medication took effect, and I felt myself drifting off almost immediately. The last thing I remembered was the soft leather seat beneath me and Finnegan's concerned gaze.

When I awoke, we were parked outside his mansion. Through half-closed eyes, I heard Vivian suggesting they wake me, but Finnegan's voice cut through.

"Let her sleep."

I remained still, feigning unconsciousness as Vivian exited the car.

"You two can go now," Finnegan told Lance and Vivian.

"Sir, are you sure?" Vivian's concern was evident.

"I'll handle it," Finnegan replied firmly.

As their footsteps faded, I remained motionless, curious about what Finnegan would do next. I felt his gaze on me, followed by his cool fingers checking my temperature again. The subtle relief in his expression told me my fever had receded somewhat.

He adjusted the car's heating, then removed his tailored jacket, carefully draping it over me. The weight of it was comforting, his scent enveloping me like an embrace.

To my surprise, he settled back in his seat, closing his eyes. In the dim light, I studied his perfect profile—the strong jawline, the proud nose, the lips that had once spoken words of love to me.

When I was certain he was asleep, I opened my eyes fully. Unable to resist, I reached out, my fingertips hovering just above his face, tracing its contours without touching. My fingers moved lower, drawn to his lips like a moth to flame.

Just as I was about to make contact, his hand shot up, capturing my wrist in a firm grip. His eyes opened, piercing blue and fully alert.

"What are you doing?" he demanded.

I met his gaze steadily. "What do you think I'm trying to do?"

He released my hand abruptly. "Get out of the car."

Outside, the night air was crisp. A waiting butler brought Finnegan's wheelchair, which he transferred into with practiced ease.

"Get her luggage," Finnegan instructed the butler.

"No need, I can manage," I interrupted, grabbing my suitcase before the butler could reach it.

I strode confidently toward the entrance, my illness seemingly forgotten as excitement coursed through me. Walking into Finnegan's mansion felt like reclaiming a piece of my past—a home I'd never known but somehow recognized deep in my heart.