It felt like my heart dropped straight into an ice pit, and the blood in my limbs seemed to have frozen solid. My chest burned as if eaten away by ants. I wanted to cry desperately, but no tears would come.

I didn’t know how long it took before I finally gathered myself enough to close the gift box and head to the hotel where Lauren was meeting her clients.

I could have refused to go, but I wanted closure, an end with some semblance of dignity. Let this be our last meal together.

When I arrived at the hotel, I sat quietly beside Lauren and ate my food.

Suddenly, next to me, Lauren spoke, "Sam, that's Director Charles Grant, one of the shareholders of Sheridan Industries. We need to finalize a deal with him. Go pour him a drink for me."

I continued eating, refusing calmly, "I just got discharged from the hospital. I shouldn’t be drinking."

Lauren wouldn’t let it go. "This contract is important. I can’t drink. You have to do it!"

I set my cutlery down. "I’m not your employee. That’s your assistant’s job."

As I said that, my eyes shifted to Ian Kane.

Lauren followed my gaze, and her face instantly darkened. She leaned in and hissed under her breath, "He’s not feeling well. You’re a doctor. Can’t you be a little more understanding?"

Before I could respond, she had already pulled me to my feet and shoved a glass of liquor into my hand. "Director Grant, this is my fiance. He will give you a toast."

At that point, refusing would only make things worse. Left with no choice, I forced myself to drink.

However, I underestimated how cold Lauren could be. For the sake of her contract, she ignored my health completely and pushed one drink after another into my hands.

By the time the deal was finally signed, the stabbing pain in my stomach had me turning pale, sweat beading across my forehead.

I tugged at the hem of Lauren’s shirt, hoping she would take me to the hospital.

A flicker of worry passed through her eyes. She hesitated, but the moment she heard Ian calling for her outside, she shook off my hand and left with him.

Just before my consciousness slipped, I thought I saw Lydia.

When I came to again, I was in a hospital bed, an IV hooked into my arm.

I learned from the nurse that a beautiful, elegant young woman had brought me in. Listening to her description, combined with the last thing I saw before passing out, I understood that Lydia must have been the one who brought me here.

The thought warmed me toward her, yet at the same time, guilt rose within me.

I knew she liked me. She insisted on the arranged marriage, but I also knew I was only using her as a way to escape a failed relationship.

Just then, the door to my hospital room swung open.

It was Lauren. Her expression carried clear displeasure, though she tried to keep her voice level.

"Who’s the wench that brought you here?!"