Chapter 145
Grace's POV
His eyes fluttered open at my touch, unfocused for a moment before finding mine. "You're back," he said, voice rough and unusually low, like gravel wrapped in silk.
"How are you feeling?" I asked immediately, noting the way he seemed to struggle to focus on my face.
"Fine," he murmured automatically, but I caught the slight tremor in his voice, the way his breathing seemed more labored than usual.
"Alex." I kept my tone gentle but firm. "How are you really feeling? Don't give me the standard answer."
Before he could deflect again, he reached up with surprising strength and pulled me down onto his lap, wrapping his arms around me. I settled against him, immediately noticing how his body radiated heat through his shirt like a furnace.
"Better now," he whispered against my hair, his breath hot against my scalp.
But I wasn't fooled. The heat from his forehead was unmistakable. "You're burning up."
"I'm fine, Grace—"
"No, you're not." I stood up despite his weak protest, my nursing instincts kicking in.
I hurried to retrieve the digital thermometer, my mind already cataloging symptoms and potential complications. When I returned, Alex was sitting on the sofa, trying to look more alert than he clearly felt.
"Under your tongue," I instructed, settling back down beside him.
He complied without further argument, and we waited in tense silence for the beep. 37.9 degrees Celsius. Higher than I'd hoped.
"That's it. I'm calling your doctor."
"Grace—"
But I was already dialing Alex's private medical line. The conversation was brief but thorough—the doctor recommended rest, increased fluids, and close monitoring. Standard fever protocol, but with Alex's recent injuries, we needed to be especially cautious about any complications.
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Alex's POV
I watched Grace's figure as she made the phone call, complex emotions surging within me. This afternoon, I had finally replied to Violet's message: "I'm no longer the person I was back then. I wish you happiness."
The sealed scars ached faintly.
If time could stop at this moment forever, never moving forward, would I be happier? Even rejecting Violet couldn't permanently hide my past secrets.
Grace hung up and returned with medication and a glass of water. I coughed lightly, the sound dry and irritating.
"Maybe I should have the doctor come over—"
"Occasionally, you have to respect the patient's opinion too, you know?" I said seriously, though my eyes held a hint of amusement despite my obvious discomfort.
She smiled despite her worry, carefully placing the pills in my palm and holding the water glass steady. "Take these. And don't argue."
I swallowed the medication obediently, and she tucked the blanket higher around my shoulders, smoothing it with gentle hands. "Come on, let's get you to bed properly."
"I don't want to sleep yet," I said, catching her hand before she could help me up. "Tell me about dinner. What did Charles want to discuss?"
She settled back down, keeping her voice low and soothing. "Wilson family business. Elizabeth's plotting again. She wants me to make mistakes in company decisions."
My jaw tightened slightly. "She's using my presence to unsettle you."
"She can't unsettle me," Grace said firmly.
Being alone in a family, constantly watching your back—those days aren't easy, because from childhood, that's how I lived.
"In the future," I said quietly, guilt threading through my voice, "don't act impulsively on my account."
"If someone stayed completely calm all the time, they wouldn't be human. But if someone was always impulsive, they'd be crazy," Grace responded.
"Darling, can you answer a question for me?"
"What question?"
I hesitated, then asked softly, "What do you like about me?" There was something vulnerable in my expression, a barely perceptible uncertainty. "If I'm... completely different from what you imagined. If I'm not as good as you think I am."
"Being with you makes me feel like life is full of happiness and possibility," she said, reaching up to cup my face. "You don't need a specific reason to love someone. You just... do. Because they're them."
She traced her fingers along my face. "You just need to be yourself. That's enough."
"Trust is important," she continued. "The first rule is believing we'll make it to the end together."
She's so honest with me, so certain about us. And here I am, unable to tell her about my past. I don't dare. I'm too afraid of losing her. I don't even want to give her the choice.
I pulled Grace's head gently to my chest. "You'd love me even if I were crazy?"
"Your mood seems really low today. What's wrong?" she sensed something.
"Being with you makes me feel good," I said, holding her tighter.
She felt that I didn't want to talk about it, wanting to wait until I was ready to share. Maybe when people don't feel well physically, they get emotionally low too.
"Lucas looked at some houses," I changed the subject, "close to Wilson Holdings headquarters." I paused. "Though personally, I'd prefer somewhere more secluded. Somewhere we could stay for weeks without needing to return to the city."
Grace looked at the videos and thought each had its merits. "When you're better, we'll go look at them in person. There's no rush."
I still had two months of recovery ahead. We could wait until I was completely healed before moving, and maybe plan the wedding ceremony then too.
"We should start planning the wedding," I said, my voice hoarse but firm. "I don't want you to wait any longer, Grace. We've already wasted too much time."
She traced gentle circles on my forehead. "Alex, you need to focus on recovering first."
"No." I caught her hand and pressed it against my cheek. "I want to marry you properly. A real wedding, with everyone we care about there." I gazed at her, needing her to understand how important this was to me. "I want the whole world to know you're mine."
I saw her expression shift, could feel her heartbeat quicken where our hands touched.
"I want to be your most beautiful, happiest bride," she whispered, leaning down to kiss my forehead.
The tenderness in her voice made my chest tighten. "Promise me you'll take your medication on time. And no more working eighteen-hour days."
"I promise," I murmured, drowsiness washing over me again. "Just... stay with me tonight?"
"I'm not going anywhere."
Her words were the last thing I heard before sleep claimed me.