Chapter 936

Perhaps it wouldn't be so bad to remain asleep like this forever.

Alexander Hamilton drifted in and out of consciousness, his thoughts dissolving into darkness. The sleep was deep and dreamless, undisturbed by the usual restlessness. When he finally opened his eyes again, he found himself in the familiar comfort of his own bedroom.

Sunlight filtered through the half-drawn blackout curtains, casting a golden glow across the wooden floor.

He remembered collapsing around noon—so why did the light now feel like early morning? Frowning slightly, he tried to push himself up, only for his arm to brush against someone beside him.

Evelyn Carter lay next to him, still fully dressed, her hand resting lightly in the crook of his elbow. Sensing his movement, her eyes fluttered open instantly.

The moment their gazes met, they spoke in unison: "You're awake."

Alexander's face was ashen, his lips devoid of color. Evelyn's chest tightened, her voice softening involuntarily. "You've been asleep for a full day and night. How do you feel?"

So it was already the next day.

He wasn’t surprised. Despite his stubborn front, he knew the truth—losing 800 milliliters of blood would send an average person into shock. If not for his strong constitution, he wouldn’t have lasted this long.

"Dizzy. Heavy eyelids. No strength..." He answered honestly, attempting to sit up before a wave of darkness forced him back down.

Evelyn sighed. "Losing 800 milliliters is nearly a fifth of your total blood volume. Any more, and you’d have gone into hemorrhagic shock—possibly even suffered brain damage."

She deliberately emphasized the worst-case scenario, watching as guilt flickered in his eyes before softening her tone. "But you were lucky. You collapsed right at the hospital, so we could start IV fluids immediately."

If he’d needed a blood transfusion with the current shortages… The thought alone was unbearable.

A shadow of worry crossed Alexander’s expression. "Did I cause you trouble? I couldn’t control it..."

The image of Evelyn, pregnant and exhausted, juggling his care alongside Vivian Dempsey’s grandmother made him wish he could turn back time—just to hold on a little longer.

Evelyn froze. She hadn’t expected his first words upon waking to be self-reproach. A pang of emotion tightened her throat. "No. You helped immensely. Grandma Dempsey is out of danger now—she wants to thank you in person."

In fact, the elderly woman had woken even earlier than Alexander.

Yet his first question was still about others. "Did Mom and the baby get frightened?"

"I called Margaret beforehand. She was relieved when she heard you’d acted to save someone. The baby thought you were just sleeping—she’s been very calm." Evelyn studied him as relief smoothed the tension from his face, then couldn’t help adding, "Why can’t you ever worry about yourself first?"

All his concerns had been for everyone else.

Alexander paused. "Because I trust that if anything were seriously wrong, you’d tell me."

"That much faith in me?"

"If I can’t trust you, who else is there?" His answer came effortlessly, his fingers grazing the ends of her hair as he spoke.

Evelyn’s dark locks now cascaded to her waist, silken and smooth. Even seated beside the bed, her hair spilled within easy reach.

Sunlight slipped through the curtains, scattering flecks of gold between them.

The scene was so tender it made Evelyn’s pulse quicken. She inhaled sharply, forcing herself to break the moment. "Do you need water?"

Alexander nodded. "A little thirsty."

After significant blood loss, drinking too much too soon was dangerous. He’d been sustained by IV fluids while unconscious, leaving his throat parched and aching.

"I’ll get you some." Evelyn rose, relieved for the distraction.

The kitchen was already prepared—warm water, Grace Anderson’s red date chicken soup, and the congee Margaret had left behind. She arranged everything carefully on a tray and carried it upstairs.

At six in the morning, the house was still quiet. Moving silently, she focused on one thought: I have to take care of him.

Alexander couldn’t recall the last time Evelyn had tended to him so meticulously. He reached for the water glass, but his arm trembled weakly, nearly tipping it over.

The arm used for the blood draw throbbed painfully, rendering even the simplest movements difficult.

He stared at his unsteady hand, brow furrowed.

Noticing his struggle, Evelyn pulled a chair to the bedside. She propped pillows behind him first, ensuring he could sit up comfortably before explaining, "Donation needles are thicker than standard ones. Soreness is normal."

Then she lifted the glass to his lips. Alexander drank gratefully, the cool water soothing his raw throat. "How long until I recover? There’s still work at the company..."

Suddenly, Evelyn understood exactly how Vivian must have felt. "You seriously think you can work right now?"

A man who couldn’t even hold a glass, whose pallor suggested he might faint again at any moment—yet still pushing forward. Alexander’s voice was weak but firm. "I’ll manage."

Even if he couldn’t, he’d never show it. With the company at a critical juncture, even the slightest sign of vulnerability could jeopardize everything.