Chapter 163

Chapter 163

Under my questioning, the mask Benjamin had been wearing finally shattered.

He looked at my tear-streaked face, and his eyes instantly reddened.

He grabbed my hand in return, gripping it with alarming force, as if afraid I'd vanish the next second.

"I'm sorry..." His voice cracked with something close to pleading desperation. "Ophelia, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to keep it from you. I just... I was afraid of losing you."

He buried his face in my palm, hot tears falling onto my skin, burning me until my whole body trembled.

"I was afraid you'd be disgusted if you knew, afraid you'd think I was a burden." He bit down hard on his teeth, his voice laced with extreme fear and helplessness. "I wanted to wait until things stabilized before telling you... I didn't want you to see me like this."

Hearing his confession, my heart felt like it was being sliced apart, piece by piece.

This man—ruthless and invincible in the business world—had become this humble in front of me. He was barely clinging to life, yet all he could think about was his fear of me leaving him.

"You're such an asshole." I cursed through my tears, leaning down to press my forehead against his cold one. "Do you think I'd be fine if you died? Benjamin, you dare try leaving me."

He held my waist tightly, his body trembling violently from pain and surging emotions.

I forced myself to calm down. Now wasn't the time to cry. I needed to know his real condition. And that pregnancy test in my pocket—confirming six weeks—I didn't even dare take it out right now to shock him further.

I gently pushed him away, wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth, and tucked him back under the covers.

"Lie still. Don't move." I commanded, my eyes red.

He looked at me obediently, not daring to resist in the slightest.

I turned and walked out of the room, heading straight for Dr. Emily standing in the corridor.

"Doctor." I took a deep breath, wiped my tears, and my gaze became resolute. "Tell me the truth. What's wrong with him?"

Emily sighed and opened the medical chart in her hands.

"Mrs. Wilson, Mr. Wilson has been diagnosed with a low-risk malignant gastric tumor. In layman's terms, it's early-stage stomach cancer." She explained with clinical precision. "The good news is we caught it relatively early—the cancer cells haven't spread, and the cure rate is high. But the bad news is his body is in terrible condition. His previous severe injuries combined with chronic overwork mean he's not strong enough for surgery yet."

My entire body went cold. My nails dug into my palms.

"So what do we do now?"

"Conservative treatment." Emily closed the chart. "We're using the latest targeted therapy drugs combined with chemotherapy to control tumor growth first. Once his vitals improve to surgical standards, we'll remove it. But this treatment course is very long, and the medication has severe side effects. He'll experience intense pain, vomiting, and potentially complete immune system collapse."

I leaned against the cold corridor wall, my head buzzing.

Cancer.

No wonder his complexion had been so gray these past few days. No wonder he'd lost so much weight. No wonder he'd rushed to transfer all his assets to me. He thought he wouldn't live long, so he was arranging my future.

I trembled with anger.

Angry that he'd shouldered this alone. Angry that he'd told so many lies to hide it from me. He'd even fled the hotel in the middle of the night, preferring to collapse on the way to the airport rather than let me see him in such a pathetic state.

He was gambling with his own life.

I took several deep breaths and pushed open the door to his room.

The room was quiet. Benjamin was half-propped up in bed. Hearing the door open, he immediately raised his head, his gaze fixed on me nervously, like a prisoner awaiting sentencing.

I walked to the bedside and looked down at him.

"You knew all along?" I asked.

He lowered his eyes, not daring to look at me, his fingers unconsciously gripping the bedsheet.

"The day I finished the tests back home, the doctor told me." His voice was low, thick with emotion. "Ophelia, I..."

I wanted to scold him, to demand why he'd been so selfish. But looking at his paper-white face, at the countless needle marks covering his hands, all my fury instantly dissolved into bitterness.

I couldn't bring myself to blame him.

"You're an idiot." My eyes reddened as I sat on the edge of the bed and took his cold hand. "The doctor said it's low-risk. It can be cured. What are you afraid of?"

His head snapped up, disbelief flashing in his eyes.

"You... you're not angry?"

"What good would being angry do? Will it cure you?" I held back tears and touched his sunken cheek. "Benjamin, we're married. If you ever hide something like this from me again, I really will leave."

He grabbed my hand desperately, his eyes red-rimmed, nodding frantically.

Before long, a nurse wheeled in the treatment cart.

This was his first targeted therapy injection of the day. Clear liquid dripped through the IV line, entering his veins drop by drop.

Dr. Emily had warned me—the side effects hit fast and hard.

Less than half an hour later, Benjamin's complexion changed.

His already pale face lost all remaining color. Fine beads of cold sweat appeared on his forehead. He bit down hard on his lower lip, his jawline taut, both hands gripping the bedsheet, veins bulging on the backs of his hands.

"Benjamin?" I panicked and immediately stood up.

He didn't answer. His body began trembling uncontrollably, as if he were submerged in freezing water, or as if countless needles were piercing into his bones.

This was pain beyond what most people could endure.

Yet he didn't make a sound. He clenched his teeth so hard he drew blood from his lip, but he refused to cry out in front of me. He was afraid of scaring me, afraid of making me worry.

Watching him forcibly suppress his agony, tears immediately streamed down my face.

"Stop biting." I reached for his chin, my voice shaking. "If it hurts, cry out. Don't hold it in."

He opened his eyes, bloodshot gaze meeting mine, forcing out a smile uglier than crying, and shook his head.

The pain in my chest was suffocating.

I rushed into the bathroom and soaked a towel in hot water. Returning to the bedside, I pulled back the covers and held him tightly.

His entire body was drenched in cold sweat, the hospital gown clinging wetly to his skin. I unbuttoned it and repeatedly wiped his chest, back, and arms with the warm towel.

His muscles spasmed violently from the pain, his bones pressing against my arms.

"It's okay, it's okay, I'm here." I held him, chin resting on his hair, crying while softly comforting him.

The hours while the medication took effect felt like a century.

I changed the hot water over and over, wiping away his sweat again and again. My arms ached and went numb, but I didn't dare stop. This was the only way I could try to share even one ten-thousandth of his suffering.

Finally, as the sky outside darkened completely, Suncrest City's night fell.

The medication's brutal effects gradually subsided.

Benjamin lay weakly in my arms. He didn't even have the strength to lift his hand, his breathing so shallow it frightened me.

I used a dry towel to dry his hair and changed him into a clean hospital gown.

He watched me quietly, his gaze settling on my swollen eyes, filled with heartache.

He struggled to raise his hand, his rough fingertips gently wiping the tear tracks from my face.

"I'm sorry for making you worry." His voice was so hoarse it was barely audible.

"Shut up." I grabbed his hand and pressed it to my cheek. "Your recovery is the greatest compensation you can give me."

He looked at me, his expression suddenly deepening.

"Ophelia." He called my name with a calmness that frightened me.

"What?"

"The doctor said this treatment will take a long time, and... no one can guarantee there won't be complications." He paused, his eyes reddening slightly, his voice trembling. "If one day I really can't hold on anymore, or if something happens to me..."

"Benjamin!" I cut him off sharply, my heart clenching violently.

"Let me finish." He looked at me stubbornly, his eyes full of humble pleading. "If I'm gone, don't tie yourself to my memory. You're still young. Take the money I gave you, go back to Harbor City, or stay in Europe. Find someone healthy who can protect you, who can spend a lifetime with you. As long as you're happy, I..."

"In your dreams!"

I trembled with rage, tears flooding again. I shot to my feet and glared down at him.

"Benjamin, what do you take me for? You think if you die, I'll just take your money and move on with someone else without a care?" I bit out each word. "Let me tell you—forget it. Since I married you, I'm your wife for life. As long as you're alive, I'm yours. And if you dare die, I'll scatter your ashes so you won't have peace even in death!"

He froze.

He stared at my tear-stained but utterly resolute face, the despair in his eyes gradually fading, replaced by profound shock.

"Understand?" I leaned down, cupping his face in both hands, pressing my forehead to his. "I won't let you give up. You have to survive."

He closed his eyes, tears sliding from the corners and soaking into the pillow.

He wrapped his arms tightly around my waist, burying his face against me like a child who'd finally found home.

"Okay." He choked out his promise. "I'll survive. I won't let go of you, even in death."

From that day forward, I practically moved into the hospital.

I didn't return to the White manor, and I ignored my grandfather's pressure. All my energy went to Benjamin.

Winter came early to Suncrest City. The trees outside had already lost their leaves.

Inside the room, the heat was turned up high. Every morning at six sharp, I'd wake up to wash his face and help him with his routine. His appetite was terrible—he couldn't keep anything down. So I scoured all of Suncrest City for the blandest ingredients to make him nutritious meals.

Whenever pain wracked his body, I'd hold him and talk constantly, trying to distract him.

Every day, I was like a strict supervisor, monitoring each doctor's rounds.

"Dr. Emily, why did his white blood cell count drop again today?"

"He threw up three times last night—should we adjust today's dosage?"

"His gastric mucosa is severely damaged. Is there a better nutritional IV?"

I kept a notebook, recording every single indicator, every medication reaction in meticulous detail. I even forced myself to read through mountains of medical literature so I could communicate more effectively with his doctors about his condition.

Benjamin slept most of the time.

During his brief waking moments, his gaze always followed me closely. Watching me bustle around the room, his eyes were always tender and devoted.

I knew he was trying.

For me, he was desperately enduring each wave of pain, forcing down food that made him nauseous.

We were both gritting our teeth through this long, grueling battle, refusing to give up.