Chapter 84

The air froze for several seconds before Evelyn Sullivan finally lowered her lashes.

She turned toward the kitchen. Just as the refrigerator door swung open, the doorbell rang sharply.

Isabella Jackson stood outside, her meticulously applied makeup cracking at the sight of Evelyn.

"What are you doing here?"

Evelyn leaned against the doorframe, fingers tapping lightly on the metal handle.

"Is it strange for a legal spouse to be in her marital home?"

Isabella's grip tightened around the fruit basket in her hands, her nails digging into the wrapping paper. She had gone to the hospital early that morning, only to find his room empty.

"Where's Ethan?"

Without waiting for an answer, she pushed past Evelyn into the foyer. Ethan Sullivan sat in his wheelchair, flipping through documents, his tailored suit emphasizing his gaunt frame.

"Your legs..." Isabella's Chanel clutch slipped from her fingers and hit the floor.

Ethan closed the folder. "Permanent damage."

"That's impossible!" She stumbled forward, dropping to her knees before his wheelchair, her pearl earrings swaying violently. "I know a neurologist in Switzerland—"

"Isabella." His voice cut her off. "Not now."

Outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, plane tree leaves spiraled into the swimming pool. Isabella wiped her tears and suddenly seized the cufflink on Ethan's sleeve.

"The divorce papers were already drafted. It's inappropriate for her to stay here." She shot a glance toward the kitchen. "Let me take care of you."

She wouldn't repeat the same mistake from three years ago—that wedding that should have been hers.

Ethan wheeled himself back half a step. "We've reached a new agreement. The marriage stands until my legs recover."

"What if they never do?" The words slipped out before she could stop them. Flustered, she backtracked, "I mean, she's unpredictable. What if she—"

"I don't go back to exes." Evelyn emerged from the kitchen, carrying a glass of lemon water. Ice cubes clinked against the sides.

Ethan's expression darkened, his knuckles whitening on the wheelchair armrests.

Isabella let out a soft laugh. "Didn't you swear you'd never fall for someone in an arranged marriage?" Her gaze drifted meaningfully to the wedding portrait hanging in the living room.

The scent of antiseptic clashed with perfume in the air. Ethan spoke abruptly, "Isabella, thank you for staying with me those three days at the hospital..."

"I wanted to!" she interrupted urgently, her manicured hand covering his. "No matter how long it took."

He withdrew his hand. In his peripheral vision, Evelyn was spinning her wedding ring around her finger—the plain band circling loosely, as if it might slip off at any moment.

"Make steamed eggs," he ordered abruptly.

Evelyn arched a brow, then gave Isabella a knowing smile. "Fine. But speaking of hospital vigils..."