To Love a Shadow, To Be the Sun novel Chapter 93

The moment Brian grabbed her arm, his phone rang.

He let go and walked a short distance away to answer it.

As soon as he picked up, Charles's furious voice exploded through the receiver.

"Brian, your wife's being treated like a servant by your stepmother—sent out in the pouring rain at midnight to buy soup, and now she's running a high fever. If you're so determined to be the perfect son, maybe you should come and wait on her yourself. You want to play the martyr and keep your pride? Should I just put up a plaque for you?"

Brian hung up without a word, his expression unreadable. He started toward the stairs, but after a few steps, turned back.

Ignoring Lina, who was hovering near the bedroom door, he slipped into the master bedroom and carefully packed a set of Elara's clothes into a bag.

Only when he came out and found Lina blocking his way did he finally look at her.

"You studied etiquette in Aalborg, didn't you?"

"What?" Lina blinked, confused.

"Even if you didn't, you should know that you don't just walk into the owner's bedroom. If you need anything, talk to Yves Caldwell. For now, go back to your own room."

He brushed past her, then paused and added, "And take your nightgown with you when you leave. Elara won't want something someone else has already worn."

He actually liked that nightgown—but only when it was on Elara. What a waste.

Brian walked off without another glance.

Lina clutched the lacy hem of her nightgown, her fingers cold.

—

Emergency ward.

Elara drifted in and out of a light sleep. Her fever was lower, but she still felt weak and drained.

Charles poured her a cup of warm water, just as Chuck walked in holding two small bottles of glucose solution.

"She needs a quick energy boost—glucose is better," Chuck announced.

Charles disagreed. "She's dehydrated from the fever. What she needs is water, not sugar. Warm water first, that's basic."

Brian set the clean clothes at the end of the bed and took a seat beside her.

Before long, his phone rang again.

It was Gareth.

"What's going on with your wife? She went out to get soup and never came back—"

"It's three in the morning," Brian cut him off coolly. "There's a storm out there. Why didn't you go bring your wife some soup yourself?"

Gareth was momentarily at a loss. He hesitated, then tried to change the subject. "She never really wanted to take care of my wife anyway. How was I supposed to know she'd slack off or—"

"She's got a high fever. She's in the hospital. Do you want to come see for yourself?"

Brian's voice was calm and even.

Gareth faltered, muttered something under his breath, and hung up.