Chapter 100
Richard's POV
My fever from last night had broken sometime during the day, leaving me with a dull headache and an overwhelming sense of emptiness. The house felt too quiet, too sterile.
I pressed my palms against my temples, trying to ease the throbbing pain. When I was sick like this, Grace used to...
Grace would bring me soup, I thought involuntarily. Real soup, not the canned stuff the housekeeper heated up. She'd sit with me, sometimes read to me. Her voice was so soothing when I had headaches.
I could almost feel her cool hand on my forehead, checking my temperature. Almost hear her humming softly while she organized my medications.
"Grace," I whispered to the empty room, the name escaping before I could stop it.
The sound of footsteps in the hallway made me straighten up, pushing the memories away.
Laura entered carrying a dinner tray, her expression cautious. "I heard you calling someone. Are you feeling worse?"
"Just... thirsty," I managed.
She set the tray down on the bedside table. Grilled chicken, steamed vegetables, whole grain rice. All perfectly healthy and completely unappetizing.
"I made this specially for you," Laura said, settling into the chair beside the bed. "Light but nutritious. You need to keep your strength up."
I stared at the food, my stomach turning. "I don't want this. Can you make some porridge instead?"
Laura's face fell slightly. "Porridge? Richard, this is much better for you. More protein, more—"
"I want porridge," I repeated more firmly.
Grace's porridge was different every time, I thought. Sometimes with honey and cinnamon when my throat was sore.
"Please," I added, seeing Laura's confused expression.
After finishing the porridge Laura had prepared for me, I felt my strength returning. I stood up and began getting dressed—there were meetings and business matters at the company waiting for my attention.
"Richard, you've barely recovered. You shouldn't be going anywhere." Laura stood in the doorway as I pulled on a fresh shirt, her arms crossed defensively.
"I have meetings I can't postpone," I said, not looking at her. The walls of this room felt like they were closing in. I needed to get out, needed to think clearly.
Laura moved to block the doorway. "I won't let you leave like this. You're still weak."
Small arms wrapped around my leg.
"Daddy, don't go!" Emma's voice was muffled against my pants.
I looked down at her pleading face, remembering how I'd lost my temper yesterday when she'd been naughty.
"Emma," I said gently, crouching down to her level. "Daddy has work to do."
But even as I said it, I was already standing up, already walking toward the door.
Behind me, Laura's voice rose sharply. "Why are you being so cold to me now? You weren't like this before."
I turned to see her eyes welling up with hurt.
"Laura," I started, but she was already turning away.
"Richard." My father's voice came from the top of the stairs, his expression unreadable.
"How are you feeling?" he asked, coming downstairs.
"Better," I replied, though my head was still throbbing.
"Good. Because the company's business can wait a day, but your health is more important." His mood was noticeably lighter than it had been a week ago. "I just got off the phone with the Wilson Holdings investment team."
He gestured toward his study. "Let's talk."
The study door closed behind us.
---
The hallway was dark when I finally emerged from my father's study. Two hours had passed discussing the Wilson Holdings partnership, the upcoming IPO timeline, Harrison Group's future.
In a month or two, once the deal with Wilson Holdings goes through, we'll be ready for the market, I thought. The company problems will be solved. Then I'll have to face... the family problems.
I returned to the bedroom and entered the bathroom, ready to wash away the fatigue of these past two days.
When I emerged from the shower, Laura was standing outside the bathroom door, wearing black lace lingerie I'd never seen before.
She turned when she heard me, her expression uncertain but hopeful. "Do you like it?"
Instead of answering, I crossed the room and pulled her into my arms, kissing her with a trace of guilt rather than passion. She stiffened for a moment, then melted against me.
My lips moved down along Laura's neck.
When I thought I would see the birthmark under her arm again, it had disappeared.
"Where is it?" I asked, pulling back to look at her properly.
"Where's what?" Laura's voice was breathless, confused.
"The birthmark. The red birthmark near your underarm." I gently examined the smooth skin. "It's gone."
That birthmark was how I recognized her, I thought frantically. That day when she pulled me from the water, I clearly remembered that red mark.
"Oh, that." Laura touched the spot self-consciously. "I had it removed with laser treatment. I forgot to tell you."
Laura somewhat frantically broke free from my embrace. "Richard, that spot made my body imperfect. It had to go."
I stared at her, feeling something cold settle in my chest. That birthmark had been my anchor, my proof that this woman was worth everything I'd sacrificed.
Without it, she looked like any other beautiful woman.
I grabbed my cigarettes from the nightstand and headed for the balcony, needing air, needing space.
I locked the balcony door behind me and lit a cigarette with shaking hands. The nicotine did nothing to calm my nerves.
Almost without thinking, I pulled out my phone and dialed Grace's number.