Chapter 171: Hidden Struggles
“CEO Ambrose, have you seen Alaric?” Denny asked as Ambrose hurried back to the car. “Silas Moon just informed me he’s not at the company.”
Ambrose frowned, clearly puzzled. “How is that possible?” he muttered. “I sent a bodyguard to protect Ms. Storm in secret. Last night, Ms. Storm and Alaric entered the company together and didn’t come out. If Alaric isn’t seeing me, it must be deliberate.”
He paused for a moment, the idea beginning to take shape in his mind. “Perhaps it’s not that he doesn’t want to see me… maybe he simply can’t.”
Denny, confused, looked at Ambrose for clarification. “What do you mean, CEO Ambrose?”
“Alaric was seriously injured in the past,” Ambrose explained, his voice heavy with thought. “He was unconscious for three years, and even waking up from that was a miracle. But even if he survived, how can he be the same as before?”
Denny’s eyes widened in realization. “So, you mean… Alaric is having health issues.”
Ambrose’s expression darkened, but a small smile tugged at his lips. “If that’s the case, then Alaric is just a paper tiger. Nothing to fear.”
Denny couldn’t resist teasing, his tone lightening. “Alaric just got discharged from the hospital not long ago, so your guess might be right. No wonder he’s been in such a hurry—he’s probably worried about not having much time left.”
Ambrose didn’t laugh at the joke. His mind was elsewhere, still processing the possibilities. If Alaric was truly in poor health and Stellan was a doctor… Maybe Alaric was just using her for treatment.
The thought gnawed at him. Stellan, the woman who had nearly killed him before, was now being used by Alaric. Why do you still have feelings for him? Ambrose thought bitterly, his gaze falling on Alaric’s top-floor lounge window. He wondered what Stellan was doing now.
Meanwhile, at Alaric’s Resting Room
Galatea was sitting by Alaric’s side, her hand tightly clutching his. The medication he had received had taken a severe toll on him. His body trembled from muscle aches and overwhelming pain. Sweat dotted his forehead as he fought the waves of discomfort.
“How are you holding up?” Galatea asked, her voice thick with worry. “If it’s too much, I can give you a painkiller shot.”
Alaric shook his head, his expression determined. “No need. I can endure it.”
Though the painkiller would help alleviate his discomfort, it would also interfere with the medication’s intended effects. Alaric knew this all too well.
“The side effects may last for two or three days,” Galatea explained. “But after that, the symptoms should ease, and you’ll feel better.”
“Alright,” Alaric said softly. “Don’t worry. I’ll be fine.”
Though Alaric tried to sound calm, Galatea couldn’t shake her anxiety. His will was strong, but it didn’t make watching him suffer any easier.
“Why are you so nervous?” Alaric teased gently, sensing her worry. “Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere. I’m very lucky—I won’t die.”
“Who will live forever? Who can avoid aging? No one is always lucky enough to escape death,” Galatea replied, her voice firm. “You need to follow the schedule I set for you—not just for the treatment, but for your daily routine as well.”
“I got it,” Alaric replied with a hint of resignation. He reached out and gently pulled Galatea closer. “I feel better. Don’t be so anxious.”
Galatea knew that claiming not to be anxious wasn’t the truth. She was a doctor, after all, and she understood the gravity of the situation. Still, when Alaric insisted, she tried to relax. He smiled at her, a brief flash of warmth cutting through the pain.
But then, in a moment that took her by surprise, Alaric kissed her.
“What are you doing?” Galatea asked, taken aback.
With a wry smile, Alaric replied, “Since we can’t control the effects of the medication and you’re so worried, let’s distract ourselves.”
For a moment, Galatea hesitated. She was still concerned about his condition, but Alaric’s reasoning wasn’t without merit. Distracting him from the pain might help ease his suffering.
Reluctantly, she let herself be drawn in, becoming more proactive in their kiss as the seconds passed. Perhaps, she thought, if she could truly divert his attention, it might help him forget the pain.
Time seemed to blur as they lost themselves in each other. When Alaric finally pulled back, he smiled faintly. “Much better,” he said. “Galatea, you’re more effective than any medicine.”
Galatea blushed, playfully swatting at him. “Smooth talker,” she teased. She glanced at the clock, her concern rising again. “How about some mushroom soup? You might feel better now that you have an appetite.”
Alaric shook his head. “Not hungry. You should eat. It’s tiring for you to stay here all the time.”
“My body’s not tired,” Galatea said softly, “but my heart aches. You rest. I’ll be back after I eat.”
“Okay,” Alaric replied, but he didn’t release her hand, his grip firm and reluctant. He looked so fragile, lying there in the bed—vulnerable, like a child needing care.
“Close your eyes and sleep. I’ll be back soon,” Galatea coaxed, her voice gentle as she carefully pried his hand away.
After a quick meal in the dining room, Galatea returned to the resting room. She found Alaric asleep, his body finally at rest after the pain had passed. Seeing him sleep so soundly reassured her—maybe he was getting better after all.
The treatment plan called for regular injections every five days, with the side effects lingering for two to three days after each dose. It was grueling, but it was the only way.
Exhausted, Galatea lay down beside Alaric, careful not to disturb him. Her own fatigue caught up with her, and within moments, she drifted into a deep, restful sleep.
Her peaceful slumber was interrupted by an alarm the next morning. She reached for her phone to turn it off, but Alaric had already beaten her to it, his eyes open and alert.
“You’re already awake?” Galatea asked, surprised.
“Much better than yesterday,” Alaric said, a little more strength in his voice. “I can even go with you to breakfast.”
“You stay in bed,” Galatea insisted, moving quickly to get up. “I’ll bring breakfast to you.”
Just as Galatea stepped out of the room, she saw Silas standing in the hallway, his face full of worry.
“You’re finally here, Young Madam,” Silas said, his voice urgent. “Mr. Alaric is undergoing treatment, so I didn’t want to disturb him.”
Seeing Silas’s anxious expression, Galatea’s stomach dropped. “What’s wrong, Silas?”
Silas handed her his phone. “Take a look at this.”
Galatea’s eyes widened as she read the headline from Facebook:
“An informant reveals that the director of Nexus Innovations is seriously ill and currently undergoing secret treatment.”