Chapter 301

The sprawling villa in the countryside was quiet, save for the occasional rustle of leaves outside.

Inside, Alexander Kingsley lay in bed, his body weakened from the first round of medication. The last dose had just been taken, and though he knew Isabella Sinclair would send more, he doubted it was out of lingering affection.

She didn’t want to owe him anything.

Earlier, he had felt fine—just a dull ache in his chest. But as night fell, a fever struck without warning.

"Daniel?" His voice was hoarse, his skin burning one moment, icy the next. His eyelids felt heavy.

No answer.

Right. He’d sent Daniel to the office for urgent documents. The man was probably still speeding back.

Gritting his teeth, Alexander pushed himself up. The sheets clung to him, drenched in sweat. His hair stuck to his forehead, his entire body damp as if he’d been pulled from the ocean.

He changed into fresh pajamas, his legs unsteady as he descended the stairs for water.

Then—the doorbell rang.

Frowning, he shuffled to the intercom and flicked it on.

The screen lit up with Isabella’s face, breathtaking even through the grainy feed. His pulse spiked.

"Alexander, I know you’re there. Open the door." Her voice was sharp, her gaze piercing.

He pressed his lips together, silent.

"Are you dead or just pretending? Open up."

Her irritation was palpable, one hand on her hip. "If you’ve got a will, write it now. If not, I’m coming in to collect your corpse."

The words startled a cough out of him.

"Don’t think you’re the only one who can play games. I can too."

She pounded on the door. "If you don’t come out, I’m not leaving."

Before she could finish, the door swung open.

Alexander stood there, clad in deep blue pajamas, pale but still devastatingly handsome. A faint, tired smile curved his lips. "Ms. Sinclair, it’s cold outside. Come in."

He couldn’t bear to see her shivering.

Isabella’s breath hitched. He looked thinner, his complexion ashen.

Had he even been taking his medicine? He’d seemed better days ago. What happened?

Biting her lip, she stepped inside.

Alexander led her to the living room, every movement strained.

"How did you find me? Did Daniel tell you?"

"Don’t blame him. He did it for your own good."

She sat on the sofa, her expression cool. "You barely have anyone reliable left. If you fire him over this, you’re a fool. I’ll hire him myself if that happens—then don’t you dare cry about it."

"Ms. Sinclair, you’re overthinking." His dry lips twitched into a smile despite himself. "Daniel’s been with me for years. I wouldn’t let him leave."

He just didn’t want her to worry.

But then he remembered—that night, standing beside Nathaniel, she had looked at him with nothing but disgust.

He didn’t have the courage to say those words anymore.

"Why do you keep calling me Ms. Sinclair? It’s so formal. Why not just Isabella, like before?"

"Because I know you don’t like it."

Her eyes widened slightly, an odd ache blooming in her chest.

"In the past, I was wrong. I pushed you too hard. From now on, I won’t do anything to make you uncomfortable."

The sight of him—fragile, broken—made her chest tighten.

Clearing her throat, she grabbed the medicine bottle from the table and stood. "Second course. Take it on time. I’m leaving."

"You don’t have to. Take it back."

"Alexander, what do you mean? Don’t you want to live anymore?" Her frown deepened. "You, a billionaire tycoon, can you really just give up?"

"No. I just don’t want you to feel obligated. Even if I saved you, it was repayment. Atonement."

He shook his head. "Whatever happens to me, don’t feel guilty. Besides, I’m better now. I don’t need the medicine."

"Better? Who are you trying to fool?"

She scoffed. "What’s this new tactic? I’m not soft-hearted enough to fall for it."

"I know." His smile was bitter. "That’s why there’s no strategy in my words. Only truth. I really don’t need it."

Her heart twisted. "Fine. If you don’t want my concern, I won’t waste my time. I’m not that desperate. After this, no more medication. Too much can harm you. Take care of yourself."

She turned to leave—but his hand caught her wrist.

"You’re already here. It’s cold outside. At least have some tea before you go. I’ll make it quick."

For reasons she couldn’t explain, she didn’t refuse.

She sat back down, watching his tall frame disappear into the kitchen.

Her mind drifted to Sebastian’s words.

In terms of sincerity, you and Alexander are the same. Once you love someone, you’d do anything—even lay your heart bare.

Too bad she’d already loved him once, and he’d thrown it away. Opening her heart again? Impossible.

Then—a crash.

The sound of shattering porcelain.

"Alexander?!"

Her heart lurched. She bolted to the kitchen.

Broken shards littered the marble floor.

Alexander knelt among them, one hand braced on the ground, the other gripping the counter. His clothes were soaked with sweat, his breaths ragged.

"What’s wrong with you?!"

Her face paled as she rushed forward, trying to pull him up. But his weakened body was too heavy.

Cursing, she dropped to her knees, clearing the sharp fragments away before he collapsed onto them.

"Isabella..."

His voice was weak, his cheeks flushed with fever. His eyes were unfocused.

Her fingers brushed his forehead—burning.

"How did this happen?! Did you even take your medicine, you idiot?!"

His breath was scorching against her skin. With the last of his strength, he pulled her into his arms.

"Isabella... please. Just a little love. That’s all I’m asking for."

Her lips parted in shock.

"Alexander—"

"I want you to love me." His whisper was raw, desperate. "But I know... I don’t deserve it."