She instantly remembered what Dr. Simon had said about emergencies-patients with weakened immunity could spiral fast, even from something as simple as a high fever.

Stay calm. Gotta stay calm.

Taking a deep breath, she forced herself to pull it together. Without wasting a second, she grabbed the room's landline and called Jack. Her words were quick and to the point-just enough so he knew to go find Simon ASAP.

Then she dashed into the bathroom, soaked a towel in cold water, wrung it until it was just damp, and hurried back. Her movements were careful but fast as she pressed the cool cloth to Ethan's burning forehead. With another towel, she gently dabbed at his neck, those heat-rich spots, trying to bring the fever down however she could.

"Ethan, can you hear me?" she asked softly while she worked, speaking close to his ear. Her voice stayed as steady as possible, like she could call him back with just her words. "Hang in there, okay? Dr. Blake will be here any second. You're gonna be fine, you hear me?"

But the man on the bed looked trapped somewhere between unconsciousness and pain, unresponsive to her voice. He only let out low, pained groans, his body shivering one moment and tensed up the next, burning up and clearly suffering.

Carol's chest tightened painfully.

Right now, Ethan was miles away from the cold, sharp version of himself. He looked fragile-like a glass doll about to shatter.

That sharp contrast between his usual strength and this sudden vulnerability-it hit her hard, left her breathless.

She didn't stop. Kept swapping out towels. Kept talking to him. Whether he could hear her or not, she just kept going.

"Ethan! Can you hear me?!"

She bent over again, reaching to switch out the towel on his forehead, when suddenly-a burning hot hand clamped down on her wrist.

It was strong. Startlingly strong. It actually hurt.

She froze, staring down at him.

His eyes were still shut, his awareness way out of reach, but his grip was tight like he'd latched onto the only thing keeping him steady in all the chaos inside his body.

Cracked lips barely moved, mumbling faint sounds that barely counted as words.

Holding her breath, Carol leaned in to listen.

It sounded like a name.

Hard to tell. But one thing was clear-it wasn't her name.

That small truth pricked at her heart like a tiny needle-just painful enough to notice. But she pushed those thoughts away. Now wasn't the time.

She didn't pull her hand away. Instead, used her free hand to keep caring for him as gently and steadily as before.

And this time, her voice softened almost instinctively, way more gentle than she meant. "It's okay... just hold on to me. I'm right here."

In this chaotic, fever-heavy night... in this dim room thick with sickness... she let him cling to her hand-let him hold on like she was his only tether in the world.

Ethan's eyes stayed closed, long lashes twitching slightly with the pain. It looked like he didn't even have the strength to open them-but in the moment her warm towel brushed against his cheek, Carol felt it-just barely, but real-his body relaxing the tiniest bit.

Time dragged.

The sound of rain and thunder from outside blended with his rough, angsty breathing.

Then finally... the sound of a car pulling up grew louder.

Jack and Simon arrived at the same time.

Ethan finally passed out, and that burning-hot hand of his slipped from her grasp, limp and heavy.

Carol lowered her gaze to the ring of red marks on her wrist, then looked back at the man, unconscious yet still frowning in pain. For a long moment, she just stood there, frozen.

It felt like the air hadn't fully cooled yet-it still carried a trace of his feverish heat and that muddled mumble he'd whispered before passing out.

In that moment, she saw something underneath Ethan's usual tough shell-something raw and fragile. A need. A deep, helpless sort of dependence. And she wasn't even sure if that dependence was meant for her.

Simon rushed upstairs, and with Jack's help, moved Ethan to another room packed with medical equipment. They got to work immediately.

Carol was stuck outside. She stood with her toes brushing the cold tile floor, ear pressed to the door. Even the soft beeping from inside felt louder to her.

The image of Ethan coughing up blood, dark red smearing the corner of his mouth, played on repeat in her head, stabbing at her heart like a needle, leaving her fingers icy cold.

For the first time, she really grasped how fragile life was-even for someone like Ethan, who always acted like he didn't give a damn. He talked about life and death with such ease, like none of it mattered. But in reality, his life could be snuffed out like a candle in the wind.

Finally, the door opened.

Simon pulled off his mask, looking serious. "It's acute pulmonary infection. He was coughing up blood, but we've stabilized him for now. That said, someone has to stay with him tonight-monitor his breathing and temperature closely. We can't afford any more mistakes."

Jack stepped forward right away. "Ma'am, why don't you get some rest? I'll stay-"

"No need," Carol cut in, firm and steady. "It's easier if I stay. You wait downstairs-if we need to rush to the hospital again, I'll need you to drive."

She shook her wrist and tried to throw in a little humor. "Besides, I'm his legal wife. If I don't step up now, his mom's gonna think I'm slacking."

Jack paused, saw she wasn't even a little hesitant, and just nodded. "Alright then. I'll be downstairs if you need me."

After sending Simon and Jack off, Carol gently pushed open the door to the room.

Ethan was back in bed. He looked a bit better than earlier, but still pale as a sheet. His dark lashes rested quietly against his cheeks, softening the sharp lines that were usually so cold and unyielding.

Carol pulled up a chair and sat down by his bed. Her eyes drifted to the hand outside the blanket-strong and well-defined, but with fingertips icy to the touch.

Before she knew what she was doing, she reached out and gently held it, trying to pass her warmth to him.

The instant her skin touched his, his hand twitched slightly, then turned over to grasp hers in return.

It wasn't a tight grip-more like he was holding on so gently it almost didn't register-like he was clinging to something precious in his sleep, something he didn't want to let slip away.

Carol froze, heart pounding. But she didn't pull away. She let him hold on.

His cold fingers and the heat from her palm mingled together, slowly melting into a quiet, fragile warmth that settled over the room.

That night felt endless.

As dawn crept in through the windows, Carol finally dozed off, her head resting on the edge of the bed. A faint tickle on the back of her hand woke her up.

Her eyes blinked open. Ethan was awake.

He was trying to sit up, and her hand...was still in his.

When he realized it too, his movement stalled. He looked down at their joined hands, his eyes flickering with something unreadable-confusion, surprise, maybe something else. Then, like he'd been burned, he quickly let go.

Carol quickly pulled her hand back and stood up, pretending to shake off the numbness. "You're awake? How're you feeling? Want some water?"

Ethan avoided looking at her, leaning quietly against the headboard. His face was still pale, but the aloof calm in his eyes was back, like last night's fragile, needy version of him never existed.

"I'm fine." His voice was hoarse. "Thanks for last night."

The words were dry and distant, clearly just polite formalities.

"What're you thanking me for?" Carol leaned a little closer, her tone deliberately teasing, "We're married, remember? Are you really gonna bill me for 'nursing services'? 'Cause I was on call all night - even threw in a little hand-warming service for free. What's your plan for paying up?"

Ethan clearly didn't expect that and froze for a second.

Carol chuckled. "Alright, you just woke up. I'll stop messing with you. Let me go get Jack."

"Mm."

She turned and left the room, softly pulling the door shut behind her.

As the door clicked closed, she thought she heard the faintest sigh from inside - too soft to be sure.

By the time she came back with Jack and breakfast, Ethan had already moved to the armchair by the window, wrapped in a blanket, watching the morning light.

He quietly ate some oatmeal and cooperated with the doctor Simon sent over. He didn't say much and had gone back to being distant, even more guarded than usual.

But Carol could sense something was different now.

That wall he always kept up? It had a tiny crack in it.

When she brought lunch up later, he didn't just say "leave it there" like he used to. Sometimes he actually looked up and asked, "What did you do today?"

Once, when she was digging through shelves in his massive study looking for a book, trying not to give up, he casually said, "Third shelf, fifth book from the left."

Of course Carol wouldn't miss a chance like that to keep pushing her luck. That night, when she brought dinner, she purposely set the tray on the edge of his desk and leaned in close to his ear, whispering, "Mr. Mitchell, with all this special treatment, are you secretly giving me a VIP pass to your heart?"

Ethan hesitated, fingers tightening on his pen, but didn't turn around. "I just don't want you roaming in front of me all the time."

"Oh?" Carol walked around to face him, hands behind her back, head tilted. "And here I thought you were falling for me."

His pen suddenly jerked across the page. He finally looked up, eyes a mess of emotions. "Carol, you... how can you be this shameless?"

Instead of reacting, she just smirked confidently and tossed him a carefree smile before walking out. "Tch, I've got you all figured out. You just won't admit it."

A few more days passed, and Ethan seemed well enough to go downstairs on his own.

That evening, Carol made a simple dinner like usual. When she walked out from the kitchen holding the plates, she was surprised to see Ethan already sitting at his usual spot at the dining table.

She froze for a second, then placed his plate in front of him.

They ate in silence.

After a while, Ethan suddenly spoke. His voice was still scratchy, but calm. "The spot by the window in the study gets good light. You can use your laptop there if you want."

Carol paused mid-bite and glanced up at him.

He didn't look at her, just kept quietly sipping his soup like the comment didn't mean much.

But Carol knew better. That hadn't been a throwaway line-it was him showing a hint of openness, giving her a tiny sliver of space in his world. It wasn't nothing.

She set her fork down and leaned slightly over the table, elbows resting on the edge. Her eyes sparkled with a teasing gleam, a smug smile tugging at her lips. "So, you sure you're not catching feelings for me?"

Ethan's hand stalled for half a second as he stirred his soup. He looked up at her and, for once, his gaze didn't have that usual frosty edge. Instead, there was something else-resignation, maybe. "I just think the lighting's good there. Makes it easier to draw."

"Oh really?" Carol dragged out the words, clearly not buying it. "'Cause I read somewhere that when a guy lets a girl near his 'private space', it's usually a sign he's into her. Mr. Mitchell, are you sure I didn't hit the nail on the head?"

Ethan took a slow sip of soup, deliberately avoiding her eyes. "...Eat your food."

"Fine," Carol muttered, pouting a little.

Silence fell over the dining room again-but this time, it was different. The quiet wasn't awkward or tense; it felt oddly calm, almost comforting.

He was still Ethan-the aloof, meticulous man who'd never been easy to approach.

And she was still Carol-the girl who'd married into this for fifty grand and a shot at a clean slate.

But somewhere along the line-between late-night coughs and quiet care-the lines between them had started to blur.

At eleven sharp, the clock chimed its last. The villa was still, save for the faint whoosh of the AC.

Carol sat in front of the desk in the guest room, her digital pen hovering just above the tablet screen. She moved delicately, trying not to make a sound-the house was so quiet, even Ethan's occasional coughs upstairs echoed like whispers in a cave.

Then, the metallic clink of a key turning in the front lock shattered the silence, jarring and loud at that hour.

Her hand jerked, pen tapping the board. Heart racing, she glanced out the window. The black sedan was unmistakable-Grace's car.

No time to process. She yanked the jacket off the chair and bolted downstairs. If Grace found out she'd come from the guest room, that "we live together" story would fall apart instantly.

Too late.

She reached the hallway just as the front door swung open.

Grace stepped in, carrying two thermos containers. Her shawl was still damp from the night air, but her smile was warm and polite. Only her eyes gave her away, sweeping the room like searchlights.

"Carol?" she said gently. "Still up? Great timing-I made chicken soup for you two. Where's Ethan?"

Carol clenched the hem of the jacket, fingers tightening until her knuckles went white. She forced a calm tone. "He's upstairs resting. I just came down to grab a design file."

"A design file?" Grace's gaze slid over the cozy loungewear Carol was wearing, then flicked toward the guest room. Her smile thinned a little. "Guest room light's on. Design file's downstairs?"

Before Carol could explain, Grace was already heading up the stairs with quick, confident steps, thermoses in hand. "I'll bring him some soup directly. That boy never drinks enough unless I'm watching."

Carol followed close behind, pulse thudding harder with every step. Ethan's bedroom was at the end of the second-floor hallway. The guest room was right by the stairs-too close. It wouldn't take much for Grace to catch on.

And sure enough, the moment Grace nudged open the master bedroom door, her smile froze.

Ethan was lying in bed under a dark gray blanket, breathing evenly like he was out cold.

But the bed clearly had a single setup-just one side was used. The other half was perfectly smooth, not a single crease in sight, and even the pillow still looked freshly fluffed. No question-no one had slept there.

Grace's expression instantly turned sour. She spun toward Carol, completely dropping the gentle facade. "Which room are you staying in?"

Before Carol could even say a word, there was a loud clatter from the guest room-that was the metal pen holder she'd knocked down earlier while hurrying downstairs. It rolled across the floor, sounding unusually loud in the quiet house.

Grace's eyes zeroed in on the guest room and she stormed over. She shoved the door wide open.

Inside, Carol's drawing tablet and unfinished designs were still laid out on the desk. Her cardigan was draped casually over the chair. Skincare products lined up on the nightstand-every detail screamed that this was where she actually lived.

"Oh, great. You two are still sleeping in separate rooms?" Grace turned around, her voice low but stern, clearly trying not to wake up Ethan upstairs. "Did I not make myself clear last time? You're husband and wife, not some random roommates!"

Before she'd even finished, a rustle came from the master bedroom.

Ethan had already gotten out of bed. He was wearing dark satin pajamas, and even half-awake, his posture was upright and composed. His face looked pale, but his eyes were sharp and totally alert-no sign of just waking up.

"Mom." He walked over to Carol's side, his tone calm and level. "I told her to stay in the guest room. I've been having coughing fits at night. Didn't want to disturb her."

"Didn't want to disturb her?" Grace clearly wasn't buying it. She looked between the two of them, disapproval all over her face. "She's your wife. Taking care of you is part of that. Sleeping in separate rooms-what kind of message does that send? What about the Mitchell family's reputation?"

"The family's reputation won't fall apart just because we sleep in different rooms." Ethan's voice stayed steady, but there was a firmness underneath. "I know what my body can handle. No need to drag her into my mess and mess up her sleep too."

Grace was momentarily stumped, but she quickly turned to Carol, her tone softer but still laced with authority. "Carol, I know you're a reasonable girl. Just pack up your things and move back into the master bedroom today. I'll wait downstairs. You let me know when it's all sorted, and I'll be on my way."

Carol glanced at the determination in Grace's eyes, then at Ethan beside her. With a small sigh, she nodded. "Alright."

Only then did Grace relax a bit. She immediately had the driver start moving Carol's things from the guest room to the walk-in closet.

She followed in person, fussing the entire time. "Hang your clothes on this side, easier to access. Keep your daily stuff on the dressing table-no clutter. And if Ethan starts coughing at night, make sure he has warm water within reach..."

Carol didn't really respond, just gave a nod here and there.

From the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of Ethan leaning against the closet doorway, both hands in his pajama pockets, gaze fixed vaguely out the window. His expression was unreadable.

He didn't stop Grace from nagging, didn't say much of anything, like he wasn't really part of the situation-but at the same time, his quiet presence eased some of the burden off Carol.

By the time the clock hit 1AM, Grace had made sure every one of Carol's things was in the master bedroom and had watched them walk into the room together before she finally left, satisfied.Before leaving, she turned back and reminded, "Keep an eye on Ethan tonight, don't just fall asleep on your own."

The moment the door clicked shut, silence instantly filled the master bedroom.

Ethan walked to the window and drew the heavy curtains, shutting out the night completely. Then he turned around, glancing at Carol who was standing in the center of the room, voice calm, "If it's uncomfortable for you, I'll have Jack set up a bed in the study."

"No need," Carol replied right away, pointing to the carpet in the corner, "I can just sleep here with a blanket. Anything's better than getting ambushed by Mom again."

Ethan's eyes dropped to the rug, brows faintly furrowing, but he didn't argue. He headed to the bedside table and picked up a stack of papers-clearly work that hadn't been finished during the day.

Leaning against the headboard, the soft light from the lamp outlined his sharp profile. His fingers flicked through the documents with practiced ease, like the earlier disturbance had never happened.

Carol didn't expect help from him anyway. She pulled a thick cashmere blanket from the closet and spread it over the carpet.

Lying down, she listened to the sound of flipping paper nearby, oddly comforted by it.

Half-asleep, she felt something warm and slightly heavy draped over her. A faint woody scent lingered, familiar and calming, but she was too tired to open her eyes. Sleep pulled her under quickly.

The next morning, Carol woke up on her own.

Opening her eyes, she noticed a blanket had been placed over her during the night.

It was him.

Her heart skipped a beat, a quiet warmth blooming in her chest.

She folded the blanket neatly and set it on the nightstand before stepping softly out of the room.

On the kitchen bar sat a simple breakfast-sandwich and warm milk. No clue if the housekeeper made it or if Jack had brought it over.

After finishing the meal, Carol headed to the study. As she reached the door, she heard Ethan inside, voice cool and firm, carrying that sharp edge only business talks can have: "The risk analysis on this plan is too rough. Have the risk control team redo it. I want it on my desk by five."

He hung up and looked toward the doorway where Carol stood. His expression unreadable, gaze deep. "You're up?"

"Yeah." Carol nodded. "Grace called just now. Said she baked banana bread for you. Told me to bring it by."

She lifted the warm food container in her hand, passing along the message from Grace.

Ethan nodded, gesturing toward the desk without breaking from the screen in front of him.

Not until he typed the last word and closed the document did he finally open the container. His tone, as usual, was unbothered but meaningful: "Don't overthink what she said about having kids."

Carol walked over, leaning slightly on the desk with both hands. She had to admit, this close, Ethan's good looks were seriously next level. When he focused, there was this glow in his eyes that messed with her inner fangirl. She couldn't help teasing him a little.

"Are you saying I'd be taking a loss having your kid?" she smirked. "With your genes, Ethan, I'd say I'd be the one coming out ahead."

She had expected him to ignore it or shut it down coldly. What she didn't expect was that he actually looked up. His gaze was deep as ever, tone still calm, but there was something a bit more probing about it. "You've got a pretty unique take on what counts as a loss."

Carol chuckled. "Your banana bread's gonna lose its warmth. Eat it while it's still good. I'm heading to the office."

Ethan nodded slightly. As she walked out, he drummed his fingers lightly on the desk, eyes still thoughtful.