Chapter 273 How Much She Cares
When Ava Anderson saw him awake, she immediately breathed a sigh of relief.
"I thought you were dead," she said.
"So that's why you're messing with me?" he asked angrily.
"I thought you were dead. You didn't make a sound," Ava repeated her previous statement.
"So you’re pressing on my injury?"
"I thought you were dead. You didn't make a sound?"
"You..." he started to argue.
"I thought you were dead. You didn't make a sound?" she cut him off before he could finish.
Alexander Mitchell was left speechless.
Frowning, he said, "Just sleep, why do you care whether I’m quiet or not? Don’t I need to sleep?"
"I thought you were suffocating. Why were you burying your face in the pillow?" she inquired.
"That's what I prefer. Isn’t it you who told me to sleep on my stomach?" Alexander Mitchell said.
"Only little kids bury their faces in pillows when they throw a tantrum," Ava Anderson snorted and turned away to lie back down on the couch.
Speechless, Alexander Mitchell said nothing.
He was throwing a tantrum and was quite annoyed.
He wished he had never divorced her just to upset her every day.
Suddenly, Alexander Mitchell found himself a little ridiculous.
He was actually quibbling over these things with her.
He really was getting more childish as he got older.
"Ava, you really hurt me," he admitted.
If he was going to be childish, he might as well go all the way.
Ava Anderson turned her head, pondered for a moment, and then sat up. "Shall I take a look?"
Alexander Mitchell nodded: "Please."
Ava Anderson sat on the edge of Alexander Mitchell's bed and pulled back the covers.
He obediently sat up.
Ava Anderson carefully removed his shirt, though she was a bit annoyed with herself for pressing down hard earlier since she truly thought Alexander Mitchell had passed out.
Perhaps in Alexander Mitchell's mind, she had already become a wicked witch.
Ava Anderson carefully unwound the bandages from around him, but there was too little time—his wounds looked just as bad as before.
"Lie down. I'll apply some medicine and rewrap the bandages for you," she said as she rose to fetch her medical kit.
Alexander Mitchell lay on the bed, feeling the careful touch of Ava's hands treating the wounds on his back.
"Ava," Alexander began in a low voice, "are you really going to marry someone else?"
Ava paused in her actions before responding, "I just got divorced. Do you really think I'm planning to get married again?"
"No, I just wanted to know if you have any plans to get married in the future," he clarified.
"I don't want to answer that question. I don't even know myself. For now, I have no plans to marry anyone," she replied.
Alexander crossed his arms and rested his chin on his hands, a slight smile crossing his lips. "That's good to hear."
Ava furrowed her brows, "Look at you, happy because I'm not getting married, while you proudly announce your engagement to Isabella Harrington."
"I made a promise to her, and I intend to keep it." Alexander turned his head slightly and added, "She's very sick right now."
"I know, she needs a heart transplant. You swore to her that you would marry her as they were wheeling her into surgery—she was moved to tears."
A cloud of confusion passed through Alexander's eyes. "How do you know about this?"
She had recounted every detail. Had Ava been there too?
That night, he had left home for the hospital. While driving, he sensed another car following him. But he was so rushed to get to the hospital that he didn't pay it much mind. Could it have been Ava who was driving that car?
Ava pulled a wry smile, "That day when you went to see Isabella Harrington, I was angry, so I followed you. I wanted to see just how serious her condition was that warranted your urgency. So, I witnessed everything, how much you care for her."
