Chapter 20
Chapter Twenty
Lucas
I grew up under Grandfather's tutelage in business, and the most important rule I ever learned was this: never let your competitors see your cards.
But in this nephrology hospital, every second I felt transparent. Everyone could tell my real agenda—winning Ella back.
Last week, after a terrifying emergency intervention, Maya finally pulled through. After endless pleading—enlisting doctors, nurses, and hiring three VIP caregivers for round-the-clock shifts—I finally convinced Ella to leave the hospital and rest at her apartment.
I'd realized one of Ella's greatest flaws: she put everyone else before herself.
Last time she got sick, she wouldn't tell me why, but I could guess it had everything to do with exhaustion.
To take care of Ella, I stayed in Rochester, converting a nearby suite hotel into a makeshift office. Like an obsessive, the moment I finished work, I'd drive straight back to the hospital. I wasn't doing this just to salvage my crumbling marriage—being with Ella gave me peace.
I didn't have nightmares about her vanishing anymore.
Now, even though we slept in different places, at least I knew where she was. At least I could reach her in ten minutes.
I walked down the silent corridor and stopped at the small window outside the room.
Through that thin pane of glass, I saw Ella sitting beside the bed.
The VIP room was more spacious than standard ones—better environment, brighter light.
She wore a simple pale blue sweater, holding a book, silently memorizing those dense nursing terms. Eyes gently closed, pink lips moving soundlessly.
Afternoon sunlight crowned her with a soft, sacred golden glow.
The moment was so beautiful it didn't seem real.
I couldn't bring myself to open the door, afraid of shattering this fleeting perfection.
"Excuse me, sir."
A man's voice cut in from behind without warning.
I turned around to face an overly young man. Joe Morrison. The man who'd kissed Ella in that car.
Our eyes met in midair. Those clear eyes flashed with undisguised hostility, even a territorial declaration, as he pushed straight past me and opened the door.
That precious scene I'd been treasuring, he destroyed it so easily.
I stared at his straight back, jealousy gnawing at my heart.
I followed him in almost instinctively.
"Joe, you're here." Ella looked up, her face blooming into a smile. A genuine smile, even carrying a hint of lightness.
But when her gaze shifted past Joe's shoulder to land on me, that smile froze.
Her hand loosened, the book slipping from her fingers and hitting the floor with a dull thud. She went rigid, shooting up from her seat.
What was she nervous about?
Because Joe and I appeared together?
"You okay, Ella?"
Joe walked to Maya's bedside, bent down to pick up her book, and handed it back. His movements flowed naturally. Like he'd rehearsed them a hundred times. Ella shook her head slightly, turning stiffly to the side. I realized she was extremely tense. Because of me?
"Her creatinine levels dropped significantly today, Ella. Your care log is incredibly professional." Joe pointed at the data on the chart, drawing Ella's attention.
I stood at the foot of the bed, my gaze locked on her face like radar. I noticed tiny beads of sweat on the tip of her nose, catching faint light.
Soon, I noticed her looking at me.
A quick glance, quick as a dragonfly skimming water. Before I could catch the emotion in it, she looked away. Her fingers tapped nervously at the edge of her notebook, betraying her anxiety.
What was she thinking?
Calculating when I'd leave.
The thought made my chest tighten. In that moment, I felt like an unwanted intruder.
Without me, they'd be more harmonious, wouldn't they?
Once that thought surfaced, it grew wildly in my mind. I watched their eyes meet, watched Ella scribble rapidly in her notebook. That sense of violated territory was driving me insane.
When Joe finally set down the chart and walked out, I followed.
"Dr. Morrison," I called after him.
Joe turned, the warmth in his eyes instantly replaced by wariness.
In the empty corridor, he faced me, his tone serious: "Mr. Rockefeller."
"Somewhere we can talk privately?" I stared at him.
He looked at me, hesitation flickering in his eyes. He could've made an excuse—said he was busy, had patients to see. That would've made him a coward. But at least a smart coward.
He didn't.
"My office," he said.
In that moment, my respect for him increased slightly.
So he wasn't someone who scared easily. Of course not.
A timid man wouldn't dare set his sights on a Rockefeller's wife.
He knew what I wanted to say, knew this wouldn't be pleasant, but he chose to face it anyway. That made things more interesting.
Joe's office was cramped, packed with thick medical journals and patient photos.
My gaze lingered on those photos. The patients smiled so genuinely. Joe stood beside them, his eyes full of pure kindness. Much as I hated this man, I had to admit—in some ways, Joe was a good person.
But good people don't always do good things.
"Sit." Joe gestured to an old chair. He didn't sit, instead leaning against the desk, arms crossed. Classic defensive posture.
I didn't sit. Standing in front of that messy desk, I had almost half a head on him. He had to look up at me.
"Let's make our positions crystal clear," I said bluntly. "Ella is my wife. Whatever fantasy you're entertaining, I'm not divorcing her."
Joe's jaw tightened. "Mr. Rockefeller, Ella is her own person. She has the right to make her own choices."
"Of course," I said coldly. "But you have no right to influence those choices.
This is your third round today, Morrison.
Maya's attending is Hawkins. You're just an intern.
This isn't even in your job description.
" I leaned forward, hands planted on the desk.
"Are you treating the patient or watching my wife? "
His face reddened, but his chin lifted higher. "I'm making sure the patient gets the best care."
"Don't treat me like one of your gullible patient families." I slammed the desk, the sound deafening. Nurses moved outside, but I didn't care. I hissed, "I know what you're thinking. I see how you look at her."
Joe's Adam's apple bobbed. His face suddenly hardened, tone resolute.
"Mr. Rockefeller, I'll be straight with you.
I have zero interest in your marital status," he said.
"All I know is she ran here with her sister.
She's alone, her sister needs care, and even if I weren't pursuing her, as a friend, I can't stand watching her suffer like this.
And the person responsible for all of it is you.
If you had even a shred of feeling for her, you wouldn't keep forcing her like this! "
His words hit my chest.
I knew he was right. I'd driven Ella to this point, step by step. I'd left her alone in that cold manor in Manhattan, night after night. I wasn't there when she needed me. Whatever she did to me, I deserved it.
But... that was all in the past.
"She hasn't pushed me away," I said slowly, deliberately. "She's giving me another chance."
I said it to him, but it felt more like I was convincing myself. As long as Ella didn't definitively cut me off, I still had a shot at redemption.
Especially lately.
Every evening, the caregivers I hired took over Ella's shift. Ella would pack up her notebook and canvas bag and leave. She wouldn't call me, but she'd wait. She'd stand by the door, adjusting her strap, fixing her hair, doing every little delaying thing until I reached her side.
Then we'd leave the hospital together.
That short two-kilometer walk, just the two of us, stepping on fallen leaves, breath turning to white mist in the cold air.
We'd pass that discount supermarket. Once evening hit, it filled with housewives pushing carts and workers stocking up after shifts.
She'd stop at shelves, calculating which product in the same category gave better value. Sometimes she'd crouch down, checking the bottom shelves where the discounts usually hid.
She'd often spend ten minutes at a shelf to save a few bucks. And I'd stand there with her the whole time.
Getting back to the apartment meant five traffic lights. Along the way, she'd talk to me about trivial things. She'd talk and talk, then stop until I chimed in with "yeah" or "then what?" before continuing enthusiastically.
As these mundane, meaningless daily routines gradually filled the blank between us.
I slowly understood what Ella wanted.
No board meetings, no stock prices, no opponents to conquer or destroy. Just the plain, ordinary life of a normal couple. Yet more interesting than any lavish Manhattan gala.
"You've got it wrong." Joe's voice pulled me back to reality.
"What?" I narrowed my eyes.
Joe straightened, looking directly at me.
"Ella is gentle with everyone, Mr. Rockefeller.
If you apologize, if you show remorse, she'll give you a chance.
That's because she's kind by nature. She can't stand seeing anyone in pain.
But it's not because she still loves you.
An arranged marriage based on money isn't what Ella wants.
Your insistence on keeping her is just a burden to her. "
He spoke with such certainty, as if he were the one who'd spent two years with Ella, as if he understood her better. Watching his self-righteous expression made my blood boil.
"Whether it's meaningful isn't for an outsider to judge."
I stepped forward. I was taller—my shadow covered him. "Dr. Morrison, your job is to heal Maya. If you think you have enough energy left over to covet someone else's wife, I can suggest to the hospital board that they transfer you somewhere busier."
His face went pale, breath stopping for a second.
"Is threatening with power and money all you know how to do?" he said through clenched teeth.