Chapter 122
Mrs. Marigold ended the call with her driver, who had informed her that their car was blocking the fire exit and needed to be moved immediately. She shot Auntie Lynn a sharp look before turning and leaving the house without another word.
Once she was gone, Auntie Lynn huffed in frustration. “Where did this barbarian come from? She’s absolutely insane!”
Meanwhile, Ambrose, sitting in his car with sunglasses on, watched Mrs. Marigold leave. She got into her car and drove away, and Ambrose followed behind. He’d just made a complaint call to the property management of the residential complex about Mrs. Marigold’s rude behavior, and they’d promised to act promptly.
“Where are we going now, Mrs. Marigold?” the driver asked cautiously, once they left the residential area.
Mrs. Marigold, not having expected to fail in finding Galatea today, already knew her address, so she wasn’t worried about future visits. “Go home,” she instructed.
“Okay.”
Ambrose continued to follow her car, keeping a safe distance. He noticed her car turn into a familiar street. As she drove home, Ambrose decided to turn around and leave. Mrs. Marigold’s attitude toward Galatea had piqued his curiosity. Did she really not know Galatea, or had she failed to recognize Stellan because she had changed her name? Either way, it was becoming interesting.
Alaric was in the hospital, receiving an IV drip, when Silas called him. He shot to his feet upon hearing the news. “My mom went to find Galatea? When did this happen?”
“About ten minutes ago,” Silas replied.
“Why are you telling me this now?” Alaric scolded.
In a panic, he quickly called Galatea, but the call couldn’t go through. His frustration boiled over—she’d blocked him, and hadn’t unblocked him! Despite the needle still in his arm, he yanked it out, not caring about the pain, and rushed out of the hospital.
He knew Mrs. Marigold’s personality all too well—she would confront Galatea without hesitation. The last time someone had crossed her, it had ended tragically. He couldn’t let that happen to Galatea. As he sped down the road, his mind raced. Cormac had said Galatea was starting her own business, so she wouldn’t be home during the day. He didn’t even know the address of her shop. But just in case, there was one place that came to mind: Everpeace Street.
Without another thought, Alaric spun the steering wheel and headed in that direction.
Meanwhile, Galatea was at her new workplace, a construction site that was still being renovated. It was just before noon, and the workers had gone off for their lunch break. Galatea was tidying up the debris, planning to finish the clean-up before her own break. But just as she bent down to pick up some tools, a loud bang from the door startled her.
“Who is it?” she wondered, fearing it was some rowdy hooligans again. But when she checked, she didn’t expect to see Alaric bursting through the door, looking panicked.
“Alaric?” she asked, wide-eyed. “What are you doing here?”
Alaric, clearly relieved to see her unharmed, leaned heavily against the door, his body trembling slightly. “Are you okay?” he asked, his voice shaky.
Galatea’s worry deepened. “Are you okay? Why did you rush here? How did you know where I am?”
As soon as she asked, she realized the answer: Cormac had told him.
Ambrose, still watching through his telescope, had tracked Mrs. Marigold, but now, surprisingly, it was Alaric who appeared at Galatea’s door. Ambrose clenched his fists as he observed them together, noting Galatea’s movement as she rushed to help Alaric sit down. He couldn’t believe it. Could it be? Is Stellan really that nervous?
He watched the scene unfold, his thoughts clouded with confusion. How could she be concerned about him? She has only ever loved him… right?
Inside, Galatea’s concern for Alaric was clear. “What happened to you?” she asked, her voice filled with worry. His health had always been fragile, but now he seemed even weaker.
Alaric tried to catch his breath, but his chest heaved with each labored intake. He couldn’t answer right away, and Galatea grew even more anxious. The last time he had an episode, his breathing had been just as irregular. She quickly helped him sit on a nearby bench.
Noticing the needle marks on his hand, she immediately rushed to grab her medical box. There wasn’t much room to work in the current state of the renovation, so she helped him lie down on a worn-out couch meant for the construction workers’ breaks.
“How are you feeling now?” she asked, offering him a cup of water.
“I’m fine,” Alaric answered, his tone more composed now. He stood up, took the cup from her, and took a sip.
Galatea looked him over closely, then asked, “Where did you come from? The hospital?”
She could tell from the IV needle marks that he’d pulled the drip out himself, and the blood traces only confirmed it. “Were you in the hospital? Did you have another episode?”
Alaric looked at her, his eyes smoldering with a mix of emotions. “Do you really want to know?”
Galatea frowned, not in the mood for his teasing. “Now’s not the time for jokes. Tell me! Did you have an episode or not?”
Alaric stared at her for a moment, his smirk never fading. “Yeah,” he said casually, “I almost died. They said it was a cardiac arrest.”
Galatea froze in shock. “Cardiac arrest?” Her voice trembled as anxiety rushed over her. “What did you do? Didn’t I prescribe medication for you? Didn’t you take it on time? Are you—”
Before she could finish, Alaric grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her into a tight embrace. He stared down at her, his eyes intense.
“Are you worried about me?” he asked softly, his voice tinged with something deeper.
“Alaric, I…” Galatea’s heart raced.
“Don’t say anything else,” he whispered, his voice seductive and his gaze almost hypnotic. “Just tell me, are you worried about me or not?”