Chapter 143 We've Been Together All These Five Years
"I'm up for it," Blaise said, with a bloodthirsty glint in his eyes.
Darian was about to act, and Blaise was not afraid. He had been longing for this.
Darian shifted his gaze and pushed his hand away.
He wasn't in the mood for a fight right now.
"What's wrong with her?" Darian asked the doctor, glancing at the woman in the bed and recalling the recent scene.
She seemed fine before, so how did she become this weak so suddenly?
The doctor responded, "There's no significant issue. Miss Cecily already had a slight fever and was quite exhausted. The drowning today lasted quite a while, making her weaker. Plus, her physical condition is somewhat below average. She needs to rest more."
Darian's eyes narrowed fiercely. "What do you mean, 'below average'?"
Blaise looked at Darian coolly, a hint of mockery curving his thin lips.
"You want to know?"
Darian gave him a sidelong glance.
"I'm not going to tell you."
Blaise knew why Cecily hadn't told Darian about donating her kidney to him—she had made a promise and was keeping it. Blaise had no real standing to break that silence.
Furthermore, he relished the idea of Darian finding out someday about the lengths Cecily had gone to on his behalf.
Blaise was curious to see the agony on Darian's face when he discovered the truth.
During a terse conversation at the hospital, Darian shot a glance at the doctor, who hemmed and hawed, unable to articulate the problem.
Darian's dark eyes narrowed dangerously.
'What does below than normal' mean?'
'What's wrong with Cecily?'
'Is she ill?'
Darian Fitzgerald took a step forward, but Blaise sidestepped to the left, blocking his path. "She doesn't want to see you."
"How do you know she doesn't want to see me? I'm her husband," Darian Fitzgerald's voice lacked any warmth.
Blaise smirked, "Husband? Ridiculous, you two are already divorced."
Blaise's words struck Darian Fitzgerald hard in the chest.
How did he know?
The ink was barely dry on the divorce papers, and she was already telling Blaise?
Darian met Blaise's gaze with a chill in his eyes. "I'm sorry to disappoint you, but legally, we're still married. Nobody can change that. I have every right to see my own wife. What gives you the right to be here?"
"She trusts me," Blaise said with a half-raised eyebrow. "We've been together for the past five years abroad."
The way Blaise phrased it implied acquaintanceship over five years due to various circumstances that often found them in each other's company.
However, the ambiguity of his words suggested to Darian a romantic involvement throughout those years.
Darian's fists clenched instantly.
Watching Darian’s subtle reactions, Blaise's eyes narrowed in amusement, aware that Darian had misunderstood.
Blaise had no intention of clarifying. He took pleasure in Darian's anger.
Darian's inner fury grew hotter, and he gritted his teeth. "So what? Until we're officially divorced, she's still my wife. What are you in comparison?"
Blaise, far from angry, smiled deviously and nodded with a deep, meaningful tilt of his brow. "I'm just waiting for you two to get divorced. I wonder what excuse you'll have then."
Having uttered a cold laugh, Blaise walked out of the room.
Once outside, his expression turned completely frigid.
Darian strode to the bedside, his gaze fixed on Cecily's face, noting how pale she looked.
The doctor's words still echoed in his mind.
What exactly does "below average" mean?
Pulling out his phone, Darian said to the person on the other end, "Arrange a full-body check-up for Cecily at the hospital tomorrow."
"A full-body check-up? Mr. Fitzgerald, is Miss Cecily sick?"
"I don't know."
He really wanted to find out whether she was ill or not.
Larkin didn't ask any further questions. "Okay, Mr. Fitzgerald, I'll get on it right away."
"Good." Darian hung up the phone, his eyes landing on Cecily's attire. His pupils contracted when he lifted the blanket and saw Cecily wearing a hotel bathrobe.
All the emotion in his eyes was instantly replaced by sheer anger.
Who changed her clothes?
Blaise?
Damn!
Darian's nerves jumped wildly, and in a burst of rage, he yelled towards the doorway, "Someone come here!"
The doctor and the hotel manager who had been waiting at the door quickly came in. "Mr. Fitzgerald, what's the matter?"
"Who changed her clothes?"
The anger in Darian's face had turned it stormy, frightening the doctor into turning pale.
The doctor frantically gestured, "Not me, not me."
The manager also hurriedly said, "Nor me."
Darian knew they wouldn't dare; "What was she wearing before you came in?"
"Just... just like she is now..." The doctor stuttered in fright.
The manager nodded in agreement.
"Who else has been here?"
The doctor thought for a moment and said, "It was the gentleman who was just here."
"Him alone?"
"Yes, yes."
Darian's expression turned even uglier as he stood still, his gaze returning to Cecily on the bed. The thought that Blaise had changed her clothes and seen her skin made Darian wish he could immediately gouge out Blaise's eyes.
Dammit!
That bathrobe was a damn eyesore.
Eyesore!
Damn, everything was an eyesore!
"Go, get a new set of clothes for her right now."
"Yes, yes, right away." The hotel manager dashed out swiftly.
Before long, a clean set of clothes was delivered to the room.
Darian was about to remove Cecily's clothes when he realized someone was still standing in the room. His irritation flared, "Get out."
The hotel manager snapped to attention and quickly left, closing the door behind him.
Darian stripped off her bathrobe with swift movements, his gaze landing on her fair skin and the softness of her chest. His breathing became erratic for a few seconds, his Adam's apple bobbing, a wave of heat surging through him.
The thought of another man seeing Cecily in such an enticing state ignited a furious rage in Darian, and he wished he could destroy everything in his path.
He dressed her roughly and anxiously, stuffing her back into the bedsheets. He was so focused and quick with his movements as if afraid that one more second of looking would make him lose control and do something despicable to her.
In his haste, he naturally overlooked the faint scar from a blade on her lower back.
After dressing her, Darian pinched the bridge of his nose, the heat still not subsiding. He turned and walked into the bathroom.
When he emerged, Darian was distracted by the ringing of a cellphone on the table that had been going off for a while.
It was Cecily's phone.
Darian glanced at Cecily, still unconscious, and picked up the call.
Immediately, a child's anxious voice came through, "Mommy, are you coming home?"
Darian's hand tightened on the phone.
Mommy?
That voice?
Rowan?
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