Chapter 940

Evelyn Carter noticed Alexander Hamilton's pale complexion and furrowed brow. She immediately set down her medical chart and hurried to his bedside.

"Does it hurt here?" Her slender fingers gently pressed against his temples.

Alexander closed his eyes, savoring the warmth of her touch. "Much better."

Her hands carried the sterile scent of hospital antiseptic, fingertips slightly calloused from years of wielding surgical tools. Yet their presence against his forehead brought him inexplicable comfort.

Evelyn methodically examined his cervical vertebrae, her frown deepening. "This isn't just headache from blood loss. It's muscle strain from prolonged poor posture."

She paused, realization dawning. "You need to replace that office chair of yours."

She'd visited his office several times. The expensive leather executive chair felt as unforgiving as hardwood.

"Perhaps..." Alexander hesitated, "if you grew twenty centimeters taller, it might fit better."

The air froze.

Evelyn's fingers dug in sharply. "Fine. Enjoy your height advantage. Next time you have a headache, don't come to me."

Alexander scrambled to sit up and explain, only to smash his forehead against her chin.

A dull thud echoed through the room.

Evelyn clutched her jaw, tears welling. In all her years of practice, no patient had ever injured her.

"I'm sorry!" Alexander ignored his dizziness, reaching to check the damage. "I didn't mean—"

She waved him off; the minor injury meant nothing to a surgeon. But the incident haunted Alexander through his evening video conference. Even his executives noticed his distraction.

On screen, the pale-faced CEO looked alarmingly ill. The terrified managers exchanged glances—what catastrophic project failure could distress their unflappable leader so?

Propped against his headboard in a rumpled suit, Alexander's paper-white complexion glowed eerily in the laptop's light. He deliberately slowed his speech, but his voice remained hoarse.

"Safety inspections...aren't negotiable...budget can be increased..." The moment he finished, he snapped the laptop shut and collapsed backward.

Evelyn had been pretending to review medical journals nearby while monitoring his condition. She immediately set aside her reading.

"Can you hold on?" Her voice softened to a whisper.

Beads of sweat dotted Alexander's forehead as he kept his eyes closed. "Dizzy. Nauseous. Exhausted but can't sleep."

"These symptoms..." Evelyn raised an eyebrow. "Are identical to my first trimester."

Alexander lacked even the energy to shake his head in protest.

As Evelyn prepared to insist he rest, his phone vibrated. Alexander reflexively reached for it, but vertigo forced him back onto the pillows.

"It's Emily Zade." Evelyn picked up the device, startled by his icy fingertips. Those always-warm hands now felt like frozen marble.

She pressed her lips together. "Should I answer? If you're really unwell...I can handle it."

Alexander's eyes lit up. He'd waited years for this moment.

Evelyn maintained strict professional boundaries, never interfering with his work. During her brief stint managing Hamilton Group, she'd discovered being CEO was more exhausting than surgery—at least in the operating room, no one stabbed you in the back.