Chapter 7 Be Careful

"Miss, how would you like to pay?" The staff member at the payment counter, dressed in a white coat, asked impatiently, her gaze shifting past Calista to the long line behind her. "Sorry, I’ll come back in a moment." Calista quickly apologized, stepping out of line. She pulled out her phone and checked her bank account balance, frowning slightly. Should I ask Alaric for an emergency loan? She considered the idea briefly but shook her head, dismissing it. The day they got their marriage license, Alaric had placed an unmarked card in front of her, explaining that it could be used for unlimited withdrawals at any bank worldwide. Calista had politely declined. Their marriage had no foundation of love, and she didn’t want to take advantage of him. If their relationship ever ended, she hoped to avoid financial entanglements. Thinking of Alaric’s strange behavior in recent days, a faint, bitter smile tugged at her lips. It seemed that day might not be far off. When she lifted her head again, her expression was calm and composed. She scrolled through her contacts, found a number, and made a call. "Hello, Dr. Kestrel? It’s Calista. Yes… I need to ask for a favor. Could you lend me some money for an emergency? I’ll repay you as soon as possible. …Thank you so much. I’ll send you my account details shortly." Hanging up, she soon received a transfer notification. Calista glanced at her updated balance and walked back to the payment counter with a resolute look. At Valoria Oberon Hospital, Alaric sat on a bench outside the operating room, his long legs looking awkwardly folded due to the low seat. His elbows rested on his knees, thumbs pressed against his temples, exuding an aura that warned others not to disturb him. Rhydian approached hesitantly, clutching his phone tightly. He debated whether to inform Alaric about the call from Calista. Every time the operating room doors swung open, revealing doctors and nurses carrying bags of blood into the room, Alaric’s brows furrowed deeper. Rhydian’s forehead began to bead with sweat. After a moment’s deliberation, he decided to remain silent and sat tensely beside Alaric, his gaze fixed anxiously on the operating room. Earlier that morning, just as dawn broke, he had received a call from Peyton. On the other end, Peyton’s weak, pained voice had barely been audible, each word seemingly dragged out through immense suffering. "I’m bleeding… a lot… help me… call Alaric…" After that, no matter how loudly he called out, there was no response. Startled awake, Rhydian glanced at the time—it was just past 5 a.m. Waking Alaric at this hour felt inappropriate, but this was a life-or-death situation. Summoning his courage, he called his boss. To his relief, Alaric, a workaholic, answered promptly. "Hold on," Alaric’s voice was clear, with no hint of sleep. Rhydian heard the rustling of clothes as Alaric got out of bed, followed by the faint click of a door. The early morning stillness made even the smallest sounds audible. Finally, Alaric spoke again. "What is it?" The assistant hurriedly explained, "Mr. Frost, I just received a call from Ms. Peyton. She said she’s bleeding heavily and needed help. What should I do?" There was a pause before Alaric responded, his tone laced with hesitation. "Did she sound genuinely unwell, or could this be another one of her antics?" "Her voice sounded very weak, and she’s no longer answering her phone. I’m worried this time it might be serious," Rhydian replied cautiously. Alaric’s expression darkened. "Go to her place and check the situation. I’ll be there shortly." "Understood!" Rhydian quickly threw on some clothes and rushed out the door. The streets were empty except for a few sanitation workers, allowing him to speed through the city. As he drove, he couldn’t help but grumble internally. Alaric was excellent in every way, but perhaps too perfect, which had seemingly invited this troublesome woman into his life. When he arrived at Peyton’s house, his stomach sank. The front door was ajar, and Peyton lay collapsed on the ground, her hair disheveled. Her outstretched hand rested beside a dropped phone, and her white nightgown was stained with blood. The sight left him frozen in shock before he scrambled to dial emergency services. The chaotic morning passed in a blur, and now he found himself sitting anxiously outside the operating room with Alaric. For a fleeting moment, a dark thought crossed his mind. If this child was an accident and Alaric didn’t want Mrs. Frost to know about it, wouldn’t it be simpler if Peyton lost the baby? But his innate kindness quickly squashed the thought. He muttered a silent prayer, hoping both mother and child would pull through. Finally, the operating room doors opened, and the lead surgeon emerged, his sharp gaze sweeping the waiting area. "Who’s the patient’s family?" Alaric stood slowly, raising his hand. The doctor didn’t mince words. "How could you let a pregnant woman in this condition move around unsupervised? She just had a cerclage procedure recently, and now she’s bleeding heavily from another fall. If this happens again, it won’t just be about losing the baby—the mother could die!" Rhydian stepped forward hastily, nodding and bowing. "Thank you, Doctor. We’ll make sure to be more careful from now on." The doctor shot them a final stern look before walking away. Rhydian didn’t dare glance at Alaric’s face, fearing the storm brewing there. Instead, he silently vowed to handle this mess with extra caution moving forward.