Chapter 3

Chloe Vance POV

Ashton twirled his fountain pen and looked up at me.

"Fine," he replied coolly. "Natalie feels wronged over your mother's fall and has been very upset. Apologize to her in front of the press and make it clear that she had nothing to do with it, and I'll arrange a specialist consultation right away."

I stared dead at him.

"I will not apologize."

The pen in Ashton's hand stopped, his tone chilling. "Then my hands are tied. ICU beds at private hospitals are always tight."

Without another word, I turned and walked out of his office.

I pulled every string I had to contact another hospital, barely managing to finalize the paperwork, but several hours were lost in the process.

Mother's condition worsened, and she was rushed into the ICU, fighting for her life for three full days before she was out of danger.

For three days and three nights, I sat outside the ICU, never leaving for a single moment.

The moment the doctor stepped out, pulled off his mask, and announced her vitals were stable, I slid down against the wall onto the floor.

I buried my face in my knees, silent tears splashing against the ground as my shoulders heaved violently.

Crying until my throat went hoarse, I braced myself against the bench to stand up, wiped the tear stains from my face, and bought a cup of hot cocoa to hold in my hands.

The Vance family cannot fall. I have to stay strong.

While Ashton claimed I was merely throwing a tantrum, he still instructed his assistant to deliver a bouquet of white roses to the Vance Hotel every week.

Those used to be my favorite flowers.

In the hospital hallway, the front desk called to report Ashton sending flowers.

Holding the phone in one hand, I said flatly, "From now on, reject anything sent by the Fosters outright. You don't need to report it to me anymore."

Hanging up, I pushed open the door and stepped into the ward.

Mother lay peacefully asleep in the hospital bed, the bandages on her head still in place.

Sitting by the bedside, I picked up a small knife to peel an apple for her.

The peel curled down ring by ring, the blade steady and unbroken.

Ashton Foster POV

I had specifically instructed my assistant, Mike, to go to Chloe Vance's favorite florist and pick the freshest blooms—the buds couldn't be in full bloom, nor too tight.

Mike went twice, and both times the Vance Hotel front desk turned them away untouched.

"Ms. Vance gave strict orders. We do not accept anything from the Foster family."

The receptionist remained polite, yet she handed the flowers back without the slightest hesitation.

Mike returned to the office holding the bouquet, set it on the corner of my desk, and lowered his head in silence.

Looking at the curling edges of the petals, I stood before the desk and remained silent for a long time.

"She's just still angry," I muttered to myself under my breath. "She'll come around after a while."

Natalie Scott pushed open the door and walked in, catching sight of the flowers on the desk.

Her expression shifted slightly before she quickly put on a frail, sweet smile. She walked over, linking her arm with mine. "Ashton, if you miss Chloe, I can go put in a good word for you. She listens to reason."

I pulled my arm back and waved my hand dismissively. "No need. Step out for now."

Biting her lip, Natalie backed out of the office.

Leaning back in my swivel chair, I replayed the recent events in my head.

Her calm declaration of terminating our agreements before the press, her expressionless turn in the banquet corridor, her standing against the hospital wall with blood on her forehead, her gaze freezing cold as if looking at a total stranger.

I couldn't fathom why Chloe had suddenly changed.

In the past, when my stomach acted up, she would bring medicine and hot cocoa downstairs to my office at two in the morning.

For my birthdays, she would prepare gifts three months in advance.

One winter, she waited in the freezing wind for two hours, her nose red from the cold.

Later on, I grew accustomed to being doted on like this, even taking it entirely for granted.

After Natalie appeared, I gave all that patience to Natalie, brushing all of Chloe's devotion aside.

Watching the stream of traffic outside the window, I stubbornly clung to the belief that Chloe was merely throwing a tantrum and couldn't hold out for long.