As soon as Cecilia Ye got in the car, she curled up in a corner, clutching the window tightly, trying to endure the pain in her stomach.
Her mind felt muddled—waves of nausea hit her again and again. By now, her heart felt numb.
All she wanted was for the baby to be safe. If anything happened to the baby, she'd never forgive herself.
The car moved through the night. Next to her, Charles Chase opened his laptop, looking completely uninvolved.
Before long, the car stopped in front of the hospital. Charles Chase told the driver to escort Cecilia Ye inside.
He had no interest in meddling in other people’s family matters; even driving Cecilia Ye here tonight was already out of the ordinary for him.
Cecilia Ye shook her head, slipping off the jacket she wore—embarrassed, since she’d already used it and didn’t feel right returning it. "Thank you for tonight. I can go in by myself. About your coat…"
Snow was still falling outside. Since she’d already worn the coat, Charles Chase had no intention of taking it back. "Just keep it. No need to give it back."
Cecilia Ye nodded, embarrassed, then got out and walked toward the hospital, hand clutched to her stomach.
Even with the suit jacket draped over her shoulders, her thin skirt did little against the cold. She shook with the chill.
"Baby, be good," she murmured softly.
"Don’t be scared. Everything will be alright. Mommy will protect you."
A luxury car. A beautiful woman in an evening gown. An ill-fitting suit jacket.
As Cecilia Ye approached the hospital entrance, heads turned—but none of it mattered anymore. After tonight, other people's stares wouldn’t scare her.
Her head was spinning. Every passerby seemed to have two shadows—dizzy, her legs felt like led. She hadn’t even gotten inside when—
An ambulance screeched to a halt. The sound of brakes sharply cut through the air. Medical staff rushed out, pushing a patient in, shouting, "Move aside, please!"
Seeing the urgency on their faces, Cecilia Ye quickly stepped aside so she wouldn't get in the way of saving someone else.
But she had no energy left. That one step to the side and her whole body pitched over, collapsing to the ground.
A crowd of medical staff ran past. Darkness closed in around Cecilia Ye.
In the next moment, she felt herself spinning—the world faded away.
Charles Chase had been watching her fragile figure through the car window. He normally avoided others’ family troubles, but something about Cecilia Ye unexpectedly drew his attention.
The moment he saw her faint, he immediately opened the door and got out.
Cecilia Ye was already being helped by a nurse. Charles Chase strode over and scooped her into his arms.
*
In the VIP hospital room, a tall man stood immovable by the bedside, the entire room heavy with tension.
Doctors and nurses nervously dressed Vivian Belle’s wounds, wrapping gauze around her neck.
Another doctor, hair white as snow, stood near the window with hands behind his back, observing the person on the bed.
This was Zhao Yuanbai, a famous psychiatrist in Newbridge, whom Xavier Foster had asked to assess whether Vivian Belle truly had psychological problems.
He was tired of it all—his promises and guilt couldn’t keep being used as Vivian Belle’s bargaining chip.
The snow whirled down outside. Remembering Cecilia Ye alone at the hotel, Xavier Foster could no longer sit still.
"Are you done?"
His impatient voice rang out. The doctor hastily finished treating Vivian Belle’s hand, still thinking that President Foster was worried about the woman on the bed.
He put on a smile, patting his chest, "President Foster, Miss Bai is fine, just some superficial wounds."
Hearing this, Xavier Foster breathed a sigh of relief. If she was alright, he could stop worrying. "Leave two nurses to watch over her. I’ll come by later."
He turned to leave when Vivian Belle struggled to sit up. "A'Ye, where are you going?"
Xavier Foster chuckled softly, leaning close to her bedside. "The doctor says you’re alright now."
"But... but I’m scared. Won’t you stay with me?"
"Vivian Belle, do you know how many people attended tonight’s annual gala? How many of them are business partners of the Fu Group, and how many are media? Hmm? What are you trying to do?"
His voice was icy, anger flashing in his eyes.
"I can’t believe after all these years, you’ve become this reckless."
Xavier Foster had always been cold and self-centered—never the type to be manipulated or threatened.
He’d only ever felt residual guilt toward Vivian Belle, but her repeated behavior was wearing him thin.
Vivian Belle began to panic. Xavier Foster had really changed.
"I don’t believe it, A'Ye. I don’t believe you’re angry at me. Back then, you promised you’d always protect me, never let me be hurt or wronged..."
"Then you must know exactly what kind of behavior I despise the most."
"I’m sorry, A'Ye, I just really wanted to see you. Lately, you’re more and more distant. I think about seeing you every time I wake up... Please, don’t treat me this way, I’m begging you."
Annoyed, Xavier Foster didn’t want to continue arguing. He got up and left the ward.
Behind him, Vivian Belle’s cries rose to a hysterical pitch.
He kept walking straight to the smoking area at the corner, lit a cigarette—anything to calm his nerves.
White smoke circled around his face, obscuring his expression as he looked out the window.
The snow still hadn’t stopped. He pulled out his phone and called Henry Hart, eyes glued to the scene outside.
"Keep the media quiet. I don’t want a single report out tomorrow."
Without waiting for a reply, he hung up, crushing his half-burned cigarette and quickly headed downstairs.
He drove straight back to the hotel—he could well imagine how the media must have besieged Cecilia after he left.
She was timid; she’d definitely be frightened. Remembering her pale face when he walked out, Xavier Foster slammed the wheel, stomping the gas pedal in frustration.
His car screeched to a halt outside the hotel. Xavier Foster hurried upstairs.
The lobby was empty of guests; the crowd had long since dispersed. A few hotel staff were tidying up.
When they saw Xavier Foster, they quickly notified the manager.
Paying them no mind, he headed straight to the second floor—hoping against hope that Cecilia Ye was still waiting for him.
But when he pushed open the lounge door, there was no sign of her. The room was empty.
The half-open window admitted bursts of icy wind, filling the room with a cutting chill.
Suddenly, anxiety flooded his heart.
The hotel manager came puffing up the stairs—it was the same manager who'd been there when Xavier Foster was injured last time.
"Mr. Fu… you're back. Is there something you need?"
The annual gala was long over—what was Mr. Fu doing back? With all that trouble tonight, was he here to call the manager to account?
Wiping nervous sweat from his brow, the manager forced himself to stay calm.
"Where’s my wife?"
The manager stiffened. He’d been organizing things downstairs when the chaos happened; he honestly didn’t know. Yet word traveled fast, and rumors had already reached him.
His mind spun. Which wife did President Foster mean? The current one, or the future one?
Xavier Foster shot him an impatient look, his imposing height making the manager shrink back.
"Cecilia Ye?" Xavier Foster asked again, using the last of his patience.
"Ah—Madam! She was taken away by someone just now. There were so many reporters bombarding her with questions—nasty, really, nearly had her in tears. I mean, those reporters are something else. Their questions are vicious, just…"
Seeing Xavier Foster’s expression turning blacker by the second, the manager slapped a hand over his mouth. "Sorry, sir. I was rambling. Some man took Madam away, but I didn’t see for myself. I’ll go pull up the security footage now!"
Xavier Foster rubbed his temples. The media really did get everywhere—of course, they wouldn't miss tonight's drama.
He stood in silence for a moment, then kicked over a nearby chair with a tremendous crash, all composure gone.
Just as he was about to call for the security tapes, his phone rang. Looking at the number, Xavier Foster frowned in confusion.
It was a message from Charles Chase:
[Cecilia Ye is fine. I took her to her friend’s place.]
Friend? Xavier Foster thought for a moment. Cecilia Ye’s friend should be Mia Moore.
After everything tonight, it was good to have Mia Moore by her side to talk things out.
As for Charles Chase, after interacting for so long, Xavier Foster had a certain measure of trust in him—he was a thoughtful person.
Relieved, he replied:
[Alright, thank you.]
He had barely put the phone away when it rang again. He answered.
"Mr. Fu, do you have time to come by the hospital? I believe we’ve confirmed Miss Bai’s condition."
The voice on the line was slightly old—Dr. Zhao from the ward.
"Okay. I’m on my way now."
Without hesitation, Xavier Foster turned and headed back to the hospital.