Chapter 221

Isaac sat quietly beside Verena, his hand clasping hers.Her serene face lay bathed in the calm of slumber.and for him, the world seemed to pause.

His eyes brimmed with tenderness, affection resting there like a gentle tide.

The room was hushed save for the steady rise and fall of Verena's breathing, Isaac dared not stir: even the faintest sound might shatter the fragile dream she was lost in.

At length, once assured that she was fast asleep, he carefully released her hand and drew the quilt snugly around her.

Bending low, he brushed a feather-light kiss across her forehead, as though he were touching the crown jewel of his life.

Only then did he wheel himself to the door and ease it shut in silence.

The moment he lifted his gaze, Simon appeared,standing guard like a shadow outside the hospital room. Isaac had noticed him earlier, yet in his haste to see Verena, he had chosen not to acknowledge him.

Seeing Isaac emerge, Simon strode forward."How is Evelyn? Is she alright?"

Some men were simply hard to like, and Simon was one of them.

Isaac's eyes narrowed, a glint of steel flashing in their depths.

His voice carried a chill as he said, "Dr. Moss,you seem unusually concerned about my wife."

Every word rang with suspicion, his gaze locked onto Simon as if he could peel away the truth with sheer scrutiny.

Though bound to a wheelchair, Isaac's bearing radiated an authority that no injury could strip away.

Simon, however, felt only contempt. The sight struck him as laughable, and inwardly he sneered.

How could a man in such a state dare to posture so proudly and call Verena his wife? It was nothing short of absurd.

Jealousy and resentment smoldered in his chest,yet his face wore a polite smile.

One day,he vowed silently. Verena would be his.

As for Isaac-the cripple-before his final fall, Simon would make certain he tasted every ounce of pain that life had poured on him.

The thought itself was intoxicating.

His fists clenched at his sides, nails biting into his palms as he fought to keep his emotions hidden.

With a polished smile, Simon answered smoothly,"Evelyn is not only the director but also someone l have respected for years. As her subordinate-and yes,an admirer-it's only natural that I care for her. Surely,there's no harm in that?"

His eyes did not waver; they held Isaac's stare like a challenge, as though declaring that his concern was beyond reproach.

Isaac's voice hardened, each word dropping like ice."Remember your place. She is my wife. Your concern must have boundaries. Cross them, and the price will be heavy."

Simon's jaw tightened, but his lips curved faintly. "Mr.Bennett, you are overly cautious. Evelyn seems fine,so I shall return to my duties."

He turned, stepping into the elevator. The instant the doors slid shut, the pleasant mask slipped,leaving only shadow across his face.

...

Danica came rushing to the hospital as soon as news of Verena's collapse reached her.

Her arms were laden with bags of health supplements,her eyes brimming with concern. "Verena,what on earth happened? How did you faint so suddenly?"

She hurried to the bedside, setting the bags down with anxious care.

"You must take better care of yourself. Now that you're expecting, you have to guard against exhaustion."

Turning to lsaac, who was calmly peeling fruit,she scolded, "And you-look after Verena properly. If anything happens to her, you'll answer to me."

Before Isaac could reply, Danica pressed on, her attention swinging back to Verena. "Darling,remember to rest between work. Health comes first.You're carrying more than yourself now-you must think of the baby. And don't forget the supplements l brought. Strengthen your body, or you'll suffer later.Understood?" Moved by her earnestness, Verena clasped Danica's hand and nodded. "Thank you, Danica. I'll be careful."

Isaac gently offered Verena the freshly sliced fruit,adding in a steady tone, "Mom, don't worry. I'll make sure she's well cared for."

Danica's sternness softened into a smile. "That's what I like to hear."

Warmth filled the room like sunlight breaking through clouds.

As the two women fell into lively conversation, Isaac quietly withdrew to the balcony.

But peace eluded him. The thought of Simon hovering near Verena gnawed at him.

He could not-would not-allow danger to reach her again.

Lifting his phone, he dialed Jacob.

"Mr. Bennett," Jacob's familiar voice answered promptly, "what can I do for you?"

Isaac's gaze swept the skyline, his tone calm yet edged with command. "I asked you to monitor Simon's movements. Report."

Jacob, ready as ever, replied at once, "According to my findings, Simon moves only between the hospital and his home, rarely venturing elsewhere..."

Isaac listened in silence, his long fingers tapping against the armrest of his wheelchair.

The breeze tousled his hair, sharpening the austere lines of his face.

"Rarely ventures elsewhere?" he murmured. "Besides coming to the hospital, when was the last time he went out, and where?"

"This morning-at a restaurant," Jacob answered.Then, as if recalling belatedly, he added, "And he happened to run into your wife there."

Ran into Verena?

Isaac's lips pressed into a firm line. Alarm rang like a bell in his mind.

"One more thing," Jacob said suddenly, "Simnon almost never eats out. He orders takeout."

Takeout?

Isaac's tone sharpened. "Send me the record of his orders."

"Understood." Jacob complied swiftly. As the information reached him,Isaac's eyes narrowed.

The orders came from small, nondescript eateries,many of them unhygienic, unworthy even of casual dining.

Something felt off.

Simon had once been investigated by/Stevie,who confirmed his obsession with cleanliness.

Why, then, would such a man consume food from questionable restaurants when better choices were readily available?

Suppressing his unease, Isaac asked, "And how often does he take out the trash?"

Jacob, ever thorough, replied without hesitation,"Every few days at most."

Isaac's suspicion deepened. A man who ordered takeout daily yet discarded trash only once in several days hardly fit the image of one obsessed with order.

This contradiction gnawed at him. The Simon others saw was not the Simon that truly existed. That tidy,polished image he showed the world was nothing more than a carefully painted facade.

In truth, what people believed they saw was never the man he truly was.

Yet the question lingered-why maintain such a mask?What drove him to bury his real self beneath layers of pretense?

Even his public claim of being gay seemed to yield no clear advantage,a riddle without an answer.

Whether it was fact or fabrication-sooner or later, a test would strip the veil away.