Chapter 133
Ambrose stood by the floor-to-ceiling window, the faint glow of the city lights reflecting off the glass as he adjusted the focus of the telescope. His eyes fixed on Galatea’s clinic across the street, noting that the workers had already left after completing the renovations. But she still hadn’t returned. She had spent the entire night at the hospital, hadn’t she? The thought of her taking care of Alaric, maybe even spending time with him in the same ward, gnawed at him, stirring up feelings of resentment.
His fists clenched tightly, nails digging into his palms, until sweat began to bead on his skin. He looked down at his hand. The wounds from smashing the glass the previous day had reopened, blood seeping through the bandages.
Once, when they were together, Galatea would have noticed something as small as a mosquito bite on him—she would have taken care of him immediately. But now? Now, all her attention was on Alaric. He felt abandoned. Was he truly not important to her anymore?
The thought pierced his heart like a dagger. Stellan, do you really not love me anymore? The question echoed in his mind, but he immediately rejected it. No. I don’t believe it. I absolutely don’t believe it!
They had been together for so many years—how could she just stop loving him? How could she throw everything away so easily?
He let out a shaky breath, sitting down on the couch, his thoughts clouded with dark emotions. Stellan, I’m the only one who can make you happy. I won’t let anyone who forced me to leave you back then go unpunished. He repeated these thoughts in his mind, trying to convince himself that it was all still possible.
Just then, his phone rang, interrupting his spiral. It was Denny. Ambrose took a deep breath and answered, trying to control his emotions.
“CEO Ambrose,” Denny’s voice crackled through the phone. “After the Storm family went bankrupt, we still haven’t been able to locate Ms. Stellan. However, I found out that she paid off all her debts a month after the bankruptcy and then disappeared. Less than a year later, news of her death spread.”
Ambrose’s heart skipped a beat. She paid off the debts? And then she died less than a year later… That timeline matched exactly what he had suspected.
“What about Harry and Elisa’s birthdates?” he asked, his voice tight.
Denny responded quickly. “They coincide with the date that news of her death was announced.”
Everything clicked into place in Ambrose’s mind.
He ran a hand through his hair, thoughts racing. Stellan must have been desperate for money after the bankruptcy. She had no choice but to have Alaric’s child. Mrs. Marigold was behind it all—she must have manipulated everything. And Stellan had no idea about the Knight family’s background. Maybe Mrs. Marigold had initially only wanted an heir and then abandoned Stellan when things didn’t go according to plan. Or… maybe something happened along the way, and Stellan’s “death” was just part of Mrs. Marigold’s scheme.
Ambrose’s chest tightened as he thought about Stellan’s pain—how alone she must have felt after everything, how Mrs. Marigold had crushed her dignity. And when Ambrose was forced to leave her, it left Stellan with no options. Mrs. Marigold had twisted everything to her advantage.
His thoughts shifted to Harry and Elisa. They’re Alaric’s children. They probably don’t know that their mother is still alive. Mrs. Marigold must have lied to them…
Ambrose’s hand moved quickly to grab his phone. He called Denny again, urgency in his tone.
“Denny, listen carefully. I need you to assign bodyguards to protect Stellan, but keep it discreet. If Mrs. Marigold finds out she’s still alive, it could be dangerous.”
“I understand, CEO Ambrose. I’ll handle it immediately.”
“Make sure to keep her safe. If anything happens to her, I will not forgive you,” Ambrose said, his voice hard.
“Understood, sir. I’ll make sure nothing happens to her.”
Ambrose ended the call and sighed deeply. “Stellan, I won’t let anything happen to you again.” His words were full of resolve, as if he were making a promise to her, even though she didn’t know it.
Meanwhile, in the hospital room, Alaric was lying comfortably in bed with Galatea by his side. He felt an odd sense of security, knowing she was there. When one was sick, having a doctor take care of them provided a strange but comforting peace of mind. But for Alaric, it was more than that—Galatea wasn’t just his doctor; she was now his fiancée, and that fact made everything feel different.
“The IV’s done,” Galatea said, her voice soft and professional. “You should rest now.”
Alaric sat up a little, still feeling wide awake. “I slept a bit too much today, so I’m not tired. How about you? Shouldn’t you rest too?”
Galatea smiled lightly, brushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “I’ll be fine. I’ll work on your treatment plan.”
“Your treatment plan?” he asked, intrigued.
“Yes,” she said, her tone growing serious. “We’ve only treated your insomnia so far, but now we need to focus on the aftereffects. You had a cardiac arrest, and I’m concerned about potential long-term complications. I don’t want to leave anything to chance.”
Alaric looked at her thoughtfully. “Thanks for all the hard work, Dr. Galatea.”
She smirked. “It’s nothing, really. But you’re recovering, so now you need to rest more. Let me handle the rest.” She paused before adding, “Sleep well, Alaric.”
“Okay,” he murmured, his voice softer as he settled back into the bed, closing his eyes.
Galatea turned to her desk, ready to dive into the treatment plan. Alaric, however, didn’t sleep right away. His eyes opened again, his gaze shifting toward her as she sat at the desk, writing. He couldn’t help but admire her—how focused and dedicated she was. The hospital room was quiet, save for the sound of her pen on paper, and he found himself lost in thought.
As he watched her, a nagging question formed in his mind. If Mrs. Marigold really lied about Caspian’s parentage… Alaric’s heart skipped a beat as his thoughts spiraled. What if Galatea was Caspian’s mother?
He remembered how identical Caspian and Harry looked. Could it be possible? But no… He quickly pushed the thought aside, even laughing at the absurdity of it. He couldn’t let his mind wander too far down that path.
Yet, as the minutes passed, Alaric found himself unable to fall asleep. His thoughts continued to race. When he saw Galatea about to turn around, he quickly closed his eyes, pretending to be asleep.
Galatea glanced over at Alaric, noting that he seemed to be sleeping now. She checked the time—early morning. In M Country, it was already noon. She grabbed her phone and walked to the window, dialing a number. It rang for a moment before someone picked up.
“Hello, Josep? It’s Galatea. I’m really sorry to disturb you during your lunch break.”
Josep, who was always a bit of a night owl, didn’t sound irritated at all. “You know I’m old. I don’t really take catnaps. What’s going on? Are you thinking of coming back?”
“No, not yet. I need a favor,” she replied. “I have a friend with a special condition. He’s been having post-traumatic sequelae and experiences intermittent attacks that are particularly dangerous. I’ve written up a treatment plan for him, but I haven’t tried it yet. I’m concerned about potential side effects, and I’d really appreciate it if you could take a look when you have time.”
Josep paused for a moment. “Of course. Send me his medical records and your plan, and I’ll get back to you after reviewing it.”
“Thank you so much, Josep. I really appreciate it.”
“It’s no trouble at all. But Galatea,” he added with a teasing note, “it’s really late for you over there. Studying treatment plans in the middle of the night? This must be one very special friend of yours.”
Galatea smiled softly, her eyes drifting back to Alaric as she responded, “Yes… he’s very special.”