Chapter 143 Selective Amnesia

Chapter 143 Selective Amnesia
Rose!
Boris immediately understood what Ethan meant.
A competent assassin should have no emotions. 
Once a man has a woman, he has a weakness.
Boris cast a silent glance at the person sitting on the sofa. 
Wasn't Mr. Edwards also with a weakness?
"I'll send people to investigate immediately—Miss Hayes's cousin and mother..." he said.
"What are you guys talking about?"
Lydia's voice suddenly rang out. 
Still weak from the serious illness, her voice was as sweet and soft. 
The two men on the living room sofa froze.
Ethan turned to look at Lydia.
"Baby, you're awake?"
"Have I been asleep for a long time?" she asked, raising a hand to rest against her forehead.
Her lips were pale, and her steps were unsteady as she walked toward him.
Ethan suddenly found his voice had been choked off.
"You've been asleep…" he stopped. 
Lydia lowered her eyes. 
Feeling cold, she rubbed her arms and stood in front of the sofa.
"Turn off the AC." Ethan's eyes darkened as he looked at her haggard face. 
Lydia blushed. "Why are you all staring at me like that? I got up so late—and it's all because of you…"
"Honey, you?" Ethan watched her face turn red, recalling his countless demands that had made her moan.
His gaze swept from the strands of sweat-dampened hair on her forehead to her limp legs, finally settling on her flushed face.
Boris stood to the side, staring at her for quite a while, his mind spinning.
Something's not quite right with Miss Hayes's reaction.
Shouldn't her first words upon waking be, "Mr. Edwards, why did you kill my dad?"

The corners of Lydia's eyes, still heavy from crying, were surprisingly bright.
A gentle, sweet smile curved her lips. "I'm going back. I've been gone for a day and a night. Mom and Dad are waiting for me at home."
Boris and Ethan exchanged stunned glances.
Ethan immediately ordered, "Go get Dr. Henry!"
"What are you doing?" Lydia tugged at her silk nightgown, pulling the neckline up to cover the visible bruises where the fabric had slipped.
He looked at the bruises on her chest—she must have fallen and hit herself while searching for her father's body in Blackmarket Valley.
That little thing! 
She didn't actually think he'd caused those bruises, did she?
Ethan leaned forward, his large hand wrapping around her waist.
He lifted her and guided her to sit on his lap. "Baby, come here! Let Uncle take a good look at you."
Lydia quickly lowered her head, pulled her nightgown down to her knees to cover her bruised legs.
"Didn't you get enough of that last night? The terrace, the floor-to-ceiling windows, the rooftop garden, the pool—standing, kneeling..."
Ethan's eyes widened as he listened.
Was he hearing things from exhaustion? 
Or was her fever so high that it had clouded her mind?
How had the conversation shifted back to what they'd done the night he brought her from the church to the apartment?
"Mr. Edwards!"
Dr. Henry rushed in, carrying his medical bag.
He glanced at Lydia, who was sitting on Ethan's lap.
"Take a good look at her..." Ethan lifted her off his lap, steered around the coffee table, and sat her down on the sofa.
He leaned down and gently tapped the tip of her nose with his slender fingers. "Be a good girl—tell the doctor where it hurts!" 
"How am I supposed to say that?" Lydia's cheeks instantly flushed, her knees drawing together. 
Her voice betrayed her embarrassment. "After what you did last night, how dare you ask me where I'm feeling unwell?"
He hadn't really done anything last night—at most, he'd stolen a quick kiss from her.
Ethan tilted his head, signaling to Dr. Henry to examine Lydia. 
"Miss Hayes, I apologize for the intrusion!" Dr. Henry performed some examinations and asked her a few questions.
Afterward, he packed up his medical bag and followed Ethan closely to the open-air balcony of the rooftop garden.
Ethan's expression was impassive, as usual. 
He nonchalantly lit a cigarette and held it between his lips. 
However, his tone was urgent. "What's wrong with her? Has time gone backward? How come she seems to have forgotten that her father died?"
Dr. Henry replied with mixed emotions. "This is selective amnesia."
"Selective amnesia?" Ethan's blue eyes darkened instantly, and he clamped his large hand around the doctor's neck. "Didn't you say this drug would damage her body? Who gave you the right to give it to her secretly?"