A pale, delicate hand reached over to touch Xavier Foster’s forehead. Cecilia Ye called to him softly, “Zhiye? Zhiye?”
Xavier Foster didn’t wake. His cold, handsome brows were tightly furrowed, still looking visibly unwell.
Cecilia Ye had hardly ever seen Xavier Foster sick before. Seeing him suddenly running a fever, she couldn’t help but grow anxious.
She fetched a towel to cool his forehead and reached for the phone by the bed, intending to call the family doctor.
But her small hand was caught in another—one burning with fever. Xavier Foster, his eyes half-open, squinted at the light, not yet used to it.
“Wait for the doctor until tomorrow. Just come to bed,” he mumbled.
He didn’t want Cecilia Ye bustling around for him in the middle of the night. Besides, their doctor was a man—not exactly appropriate to call at this hour.
Even feverish and groggy, Xavier Foster’s mind drifted to thoughts of hiring a female doctor for occasions like this.
Cecilia Ye hesitated, then set the phone down. She touched the side of his neck, worry etched in her voice: “But you’re running a fever. You’re burning up.”
“It’s fine. I’ll be better after some sleep.” His voice was rough, and he gave a small cough.
Seeing how insistent he was, Cecilia Ye reluctantly went downstairs to make a packet of cold medicine and brought it up for him.
After taking the medicine, Xavier Foster felt a little better. “I’m cold. Come sleep with me,” he murmured.
Cecilia Ye anxiously crawled into bed, pressing against his side to warm him up. The whole night, she barely dared to sleep, getting up several times to change out the cold towel.
Only when dawn crept through the window, and he felt less feverish, did Cecilia Ye finally drift off to sleep.
*
At the office, Henry Hart stared at the empty president's office and remembered that the boss had been injured yesterday. When he’d checked in last night, the boss said he was with his wife and didn’t need the doctor to come.
Well then… better not disturb them today. Whenever the boss’s wife is involved, work mysteriously falls to me anyway—calling or not makes no difference.
Henry Hart, ever clear-headed, left the office. Just then, his phone rang. He answered quickly.
“Hmm? On the 35th floor? I’ll be right down.”
He took the elevator to the 35th floor. The outfits Xavier Foster had ordered for his wife for the annual gala had been delivered—except the delivery person had brought them to the wrong floor.
The 35th floor was home to the advertising department, filled mostly with fashionable young women. The understated yet extravagantly wrapped gift boxes on the table had everyone’s eyes gleaming.
The advertising department worked closely with celebrities and luxury brands all the time.
One sharp-eyed girl immediately recognized the giks haute couture box—this was a brand you couldn’t buy even if you had the money. These days, they barely accepted private custom orders at all.
“Oh my god, whose dress is this? Do we have a hidden rich heiress on this floor?”
“No way, right? giks? Last time, even that uber-famous star couldn’t get an old design of theirs for the red carpet. That brand is crazy exclusive.”
“Don’t even bother guessing. Secretary He is coming down for it, so it must be the president’s wife’s dress.”
That explained it.
Vivian Belle walked out of the break room. Noticing the two luxurious boxes and the murmurs all around, she looked elated.
Could it be that A-Ye prepared this for me? He must feel bad about yelling at me in the office last time; this must be his surprise for me, she thought.
Straightening her clothes and holding her head high, Vivian Belle sashayed over.
“Did A-Ye order these dresses for me?” she asked, already imagining the envious looks surrounding her as she reached the boxes.
There were two silver-gray boxes, low-key yet extraordinarily elegant, shimmering with a faint blue under the light.
She reached out to untie the elaborate bows, ready to bask in admiration.
A cool voice interrupted: “Miss Bai, please don’t touch those.”
Henry Hart strode into the room, tall and imposing, and nodded as he walked straight to the table. “These are the dresses President Foster ordered for his wife. I’ll be taking them upstairs.”
The girls nearby couldn’t help but exchange furtive glances—well, that was embarrassing. It was widely rumored the president had an exceptionally beautiful wife, though she kept a low profile.
Some said she’d even visited the company recently, but nobody had actually caught a glimpse.
Vivian Belle’s face fell. Scowling at the two boxes, her heels clacked furiously as she snapped, “Well, A-Ye gave me his card anyway, told me I could buy whatever I wanted.”
But no one paid her much heed—‘giving money’ sounded more like getting rid of someone than doting on them.
Henry Hart glanced around at the lingering onlookers, raising his eyebrow. “Aren’t you all supposed to be working?”
Though he was technically the president’s assistant, Henry Hart’s authority rivaled that of the board’s own, maybe even exceeding it in the president’s eyes.
The curious crowd disappeared in a flash.
Gathering up both boxes, he turned and left for the executive floor.
♡
When Xavier Foster finally woke, the person beside him was still asleep—a small huddle curled close, her arms wrapped tightly around herself, as if afraid of jostling his injury.
Flashes of last night drifted through his mind: even as he drifted in and out of feverish dreams, his little wife had changed cold towels for him again and again. He lowered his head and pressed a kiss to her hair.
Suddenly, his phone blared, and Xavier Foster quickly answered. Noticing the woman in his arms stirring and rubbing her eyes, his tone turned sharp.
“Hello?”
Sensing the icy mood in Xavier Foster’s voice, Henry Hart instantly realized the boss wasn’t in a good mood. Peeking at the clock—well, it’s already after nine, surely he’s not still in bed…
“President Foster, the dresses you ordered for your wife have arrived at the office.”
“Have someone send them to Qinghe—never mind. Leave them in my office. I’ll pick them up this afternoon.” Xavier Foster hung up.
The woman in his arms gazed up at him, bleary-eyed, and reached out to touch his forehead.
“Xavier Foster, are you feeling better?” she murmured, sleep still clouding her kittenish voice.
“Mm. Much better. Want to get up?”
Cecilia Ye was still sleepy. She rubbed her stomach, secretly greeting the little one inside.
Thinking she really should have the doctor take a look, she sat up with a sigh.
“No more sleeping for me. I’ll call the doctor.”
After finishing the call, she washed up and changed, planning to go downstairs to prepare breakfast.
Maybe it was her poor sleep the night before, but as she stepped out of the bathroom, a wave of dizziness made her grab the doorframe for support.
Already changing, Xavier Foster immediately caught her hand. “What’s wrong? Not feeling well? I’ll have the doctor check you, too.”
Cecilia Ye shook her head. “No, I’m fine. Just hungry, that’s all. No need for the doctor.”
The Fu family’s doctor was a consummate professional, and Cecilia Ye didn’t want anyone discovering her secret just yet.
“Don’t bother making breakfast. Rest a bit—I’ll have food sent over.”
They made their way downstairs together, and right then, the doorbell rang.
Dr. Yang, young and efficient, came in and first took Xavier Foster’s temperature, then re-dressed his wound.
While he was busy, breakfast was delivered as well. Xavier Foster turned and told Cecilia Ye to eat first.
Ravenous, Cecilia Ye obediently took her seat at the table.
“President Foster, all set. Nothing serious, just keep taking the fever and anti-inflammatory meds, and change the bandaging daily—don’t get your hand wet. In a few days, the stitches can come out." Dr. Yang packed up as he gave the instructions, then took his leave.
The breakfast was light. Cecilia Ye had some porridge and a few little meat buns, feeling much improved.
When Xavier Foster appeared, she immediately stood up to ladle him a bowl.
They ate together in companionable silence. After resting for a while, Cecilia Ye watched him prepare for work, worry flickering in her eyes.
“Don’t worry; I feel a lot better with the medicine. I’ll bring something back for you tonight.”