My CEO Husband Says I'm Irreplaceable

Chapter 113: Chapter 113: I’ll Help You

Vesper Grayson was taken aback for a moment, then couldn’t help but chuckle.

"In a doctor’s eyes, a patient has no gender. I was just doing a friend a favor. Is President Hawthorne really going to get jealous over such a small thing?"

"I don’t like you touching other men."

The man’s voice was low, thick with a possessiveness that tolerated no argument.

For some reason, Vesper Grayson found his petulance both awkward and cute. She reached out and gently caressed his cheek.

"Except for President Hawthorne, all other men are no different than injured strays in my eyes. Besides, saving a life earns good karma."

Her explanation seemed to placate him, smoothing over the last of his irritation.

"If this kind of thing happens again, tell me. I’ll send people to handle it."

"Okay," she humored him, her voice soft and coaxing as her eyes curved into crescents. "Can I go take my shower now?"

"I’ll help you."

Before the words had even left his mouth, Jared Hawthorne swept her up into his arms and strode toward the bedroom.

Vesper Grayson let out a soft gasp, instinctively wrapping her arms around his neck. Once she processed what he’d said, panic colored her features.

"I can do it myself..."

’If he helped, she would only end up more exhausted.’

But her protests were clearly in vain.

By the time he carried her out of the water again, she was so limp she had no strength left; even lifting a hand was an effort.

Jared Hawthorne, looking utterly sated and refreshed, gently laid her on the bed. He leaned down and kissed her flushed cheek.

"Good night."

...

Shiloh Sloan had a nightmare.

In her dream, a group of vicious-looking men chased her relentlessly, cornering her at the edge of a cliff.

Their expressions were ferocious as they demanded she hand over the man.

She refused, even on pain of death.

The leader of the group raised his hand and fired. The bullet pierced her chest, and her body suddenly felt weightless as she plummeted toward the endless abyss.

"NO!!"

She snapped her eyes open, clutching her chest and gasping for air, her forehead covered in a cold sweat.

Just as she breathed a sigh of relief at the familiar sight of her room, she was caught off guard, her gaze colliding with a pair of eyes—pitch-black, piercing, and unfathomably deep.

The man’s irises were as dark as ink, holding no light. His gaze was cold and intimidating, and where it landed on her, she felt her throat tighten, as if she were being choked.

Shiloh Sloan snapped back to reality, grabbed the dagger by her feet, and pointed it straight at him.

"You... you’re awake!"

The man’s voice was hoarse and dry but abnormally calm. "Injured as I am, I can’t do anything to you."

Shiloh Sloan’s tense nerves relaxed a fraction, and she slowly lowered the dagger.

’She was just being too paranoid.’

"How are you feeling?"

"You saved me?"

"Duh. Who else would it be?"

Shiloh Sloan muttered under her breath, wiped the cold sweat from her temple, and poured a glass of water, downing it in one go.

She turned her head, only to find the man staring unblinkingly at the glass in her hand.

"You want some?"

He nodded lightly. "Mhm."

Shiloh Sloan poured another glass and set it on the floor beside him. Then, remembering his injuries, she found a straw and dropped it into the glass.

After drinking the water, the man’s gaze slowly fell to the neatly bandaged wound on his body, his brow furrowing slightly.

"Who treated my wound?"

"My friend."

"Did you call the police?"

"No," Shiloh Sloan said bluntly. "You have a gunshot wound. I don’t want any trouble."

The man was silent for a moment, his gaze quickly sweeping his surroundings.

The doors and windows were shut tight, the curtains drawn without a single gap. It was clear she was worried about being discovered.

’Timid, but meticulous.’

He looked at her again, his gaze deep and dark.

"Why did you save me? Aren’t you afraid of getting into trouble?"

"You’re the one who grabbed my leg and begged for help," Shiloh Sloan said with a pout, muttering under her breath, "If you weren’t at least halfway decent-looking, I would’ve thrown you out ages ago."

"..."

"You saved me, what do you want?"

Shiloh Sloan’s eyes darted around. Staring at him, she said jokingly, "I’m not lacking for anything... so how about you offer yourself to me as repayment?"

The man clearly hadn’t expected her to be so direct. A flicker of surprise showed in his deep, dark eyes before he resumed his nonchalant expression.

"Asking me to offer myself to you without even knowing who I am? Aren’t you afraid I’m a homicidal maniac who wants to kill you?"

"Ha..." Shiloh Sloan instantly jumped back two steps, laughing dryly. "I was just kidding! As soon as you can move, you should get going. Out the door and to the right. See yourself out!"

The man was silent.

’This woman changes her tune faster than someone flipping through a book.’

’She certainly cherishes her life.’

He slowly closed his eyes, pressing a hand to his faintly aching abdomen. "I can’t get up," he said blandly. "And I’m hungry."

The implication was clear: she was to get him something to eat.

Shiloh Sloan didn’t move, staring at him. "I’m not harboring a murderer."

"Then call the police," he said, his tone flat. "When they get here, I’ll tell them you hid me on purpose."

"You’re repaying my kindness with a threat?"

"Mhm," he admitted readily. "I’m not a good person. It’s your bad luck you saved me."

"Besides, if you throw me out now, as soon as the people hunting me find out you were the one who saved me, they won’t let you off the hook."

Either way, she had no choice.

Furious, Shiloh Sloan plopped down onto the sofa cross-legged, throwing all caution to the wind. "Fine! Then you can just wait here and starve to death! I’m not waiting on you!"

The man opened his eyes. He watched her puffing her cheeks, a look of defiant resignation on her face. After a moment of silence, he spoke slowly.

"Can’t you take a joke? You saved me. When I’m healed, I’ll give you five million."

Five million?

Shiloh Sloan’s eyes instantly lit up, but her expression quickly turned suspicious.

"Do you really have it?"

"If you believe me, I do."

"Then you have to write me an IOU!"

’This man was admittedly handsome, but his identity was unknown, and she was still afraid of attracting trouble.’

’But money was different.’

’With five million, she could find plenty of men this handsome.’

’She could even keep a cute college boy as a pet...’

’Then she’d find an innocent "little wolf," keep him around for fun... The very thought made her happy.’

The man watched her goofy grin, his dark eyes narrowing slightly, and nodded.

"Fine."

Shiloh Sloan immediately whipped out a pen and paper, quickly drafted an IOU, and looked up to ask, "What’s your name?"

"Lindsay Shepherd."

She picked up her pen and wrote: *Debtor, Lindsay Shepherd, shall, upon the day of his recovery, pay Shiloh Sloan the sum of five million RMB.*

She finished writing and handed it to him.

Lindsay Shepherd glanced at it, then silently signed his name and added his thumbprint.

"Now, can you go make me something to eat?"

"You got it! One moment, please!"

Shiloh Sloan’s expression immediately became one of eager servitude. She scurried off to the kitchen to make some congee.

The faint fragrance of rice soon wafted from the kitchen.

She came out with a bowl of warm white congee, crouched in front of him, scooped up a spoonful, and brought it to his lips.

"Open up. I’ve never waited on anyone before. If I’m not good at it, you’ll have to bear with me."

Lindsay Shepherd obediently opened his mouth and swallowed.

After feeding him the bowl of congee, Shiloh Sloan pulled out a tissue and haphazardly wiped his mouth, sighing in relief as if she had completed a task.

"All done. Now just lie there and don’t move. I’m not taking responsibility if your wound splits open."

Lindsay Shepherd said, "Let me use your phone."

She hesitated.

"I’m telling my friend to come deliver your five million."

"Here."

She immediately handed the phone over without a moment’s hesitation. To delay for even a second would be disrespectful to the money.

Lindsay Shepherd, "..."

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