My Child and I Married a Billionaire

The two of them snuggled together watching TV. Before they knew it, all three IV bags were empty, and it was time for Cecelia to leave.

"Wake up. Go sleep in the bed. I should head back now. I’ll come see you again in the morning."

Damien was just sinking into the tender moment when he heard those words, and his temper flared up again.

He sat up abruptly, heedless of the pain or the risk to his arm, and threw himself back against the sofa.

"You and Shane Grant are just so deeply in love, aren’t you? Can’t even bear to be apart for one night?"

Cecelia: "??"

"So when you were away at Windmount on business for so long without seeing him, you must have been dying of misery, right?"

She really couldn’t believe him.

’He knew she’d been away at Windmount on business for ages and had barely seen Shane Grant, so why did he love making such hurtful accusations?’

’And she’d forgotten to ask him—why hadn’t Gwen Morgan come with him on this vacation?’

She wanted to snap back at him, but it was the middle of the night. Seeing as he got injured for her, Cecelia held her tongue.

"Say whatever you want. I’m leaving."

She stood up to leave, but Damien threw his long legs up onto the coffee table, blocking her way.

"I’m not finished talking. If you leave, what if I feel unwell in the middle of the night? You can’t expect Grandpa to take care of me, can you? Is this how you treat your savior?"

Cecelia was once again speechless: "..."

’Besides, it wouldn’t be the first time they’d slept in the same bed. His injury was so severe, he could easily develop a fever in the night. She should just stay and look after him.’

Without showering, they both lay down on the bed. Even though they didn’t touch, Damien felt a sense of comfort and quickly fell asleep.

Cecelia had no idea how much time had passed. She was fast asleep when she was startled by the feeling of a feverish head nuzzling against her arm, its owner muttering nonstop.

She opened her eyes and saw it was Damien.

He was delirious with fever, burrowing into her arms like a three-year-old child and talking in his sleep.

Cecelia reached out to touch him. His forehead was drenched in sweat; so were his neck and arms—he was covered in it.

’This isn’t good. His wound is too long and too deep; this simple treatment isn’t nearly enough. Today it’s a fever, but tomorrow it could be an infection. I have to get him to a hospital right away.’

Cecelia turned on the light, wrung out a warm towel, and called his name while gently wiping him down.

"Damien? Damien! Don’t sleep. Wake up. I’m taking you to the hospital. You have a fever, and your wound will get infected if we don’t do something."

She called his name several times before Damien groggily opened his eyes.

At the mere mention of the word "hospital," he started shaking his head like a rattle drum.

"I’m not going. I can’t."

"Why not? Why can’t you go to the hospital when you’re sick?"

Damien kept his eyes closed, his lips dry and peeling from the fever.

But even in this state, he didn’t lose his sharp tongue.

"Because the Vaughn Family owns the hospital. The moment I’m admitted, my grandfather will find out. And it won’t just be him—my second and third uncles will find out, too. Besides, we’re back to work tomorrow."

’Cecelia could understand not wanting them to know—his uncles were scheming, and his grandfather would worry. But what did he mean, back to work tomorrow?’

’In his condition, he still planned on going to work tomorrow?’

Damien didn’t answer her. "I’m not going to the hospital, and that’s final."

Cecelia was out of options. She could only give him some fever-reducing medicine and try to bring his temperature down with a cool compress.

She wiped his palms, the soles of his feet, and his forehead again and again with a cool towel. After more than an hour of this, his fever finally broke.

Cecelia turned off the light. She had barely settled back into bed when Damien moved closer to her again.

"Hold me. It hurts."

She didn’t know if he was just delirious or if the pain was truly unbearable, but hearing a grown man admit he was in pain made Cecelia’s heart ache.

She obediently let him rest his head on her arm and cradled it. Sometimes she would smooth his short hair, sometimes she’d trace his ear, sometimes she’d gently squeeze the nape of his neck, and sometimes she’d pat his shoulder. Cecelia didn’t sleep a wink all night, while Damien drifted back into a groggy sleep.

She lasted until seven in the morning. Just when her arm was about to go completely numb from his weight, Damien’s eyes finally fluttered open.

He found himself nestled against Cecelia like a baby, his head resting on her arm, his ear filled with the sound of her strong, steady heartbeat. With the slightest movement, his lips would touch her soft... After a long moment of internal struggle, he finally moved his head away.

Finally free, Cecelia sat up, kneading her numb arm as she spoke.

"I’ll have someone bring you breakfast and medicine. Just eat that for now. I’ll come check on you again tonight."

"The company reopens today, so I have to go to work."

It was the eighth day of the new year, and Damien had to go into the office too.

Though his whole body ached and his head felt foggy, he forced himself out of bed.

"You were forced to stay with me all night, so you must be dying to get away. No need to check on me tonight. Just go."

Cecelia was speechless. "..."

’Does this man have a conscience?’

’She’d spent the whole night taking care of him, barely sleeping a wink, and the moment he opens his eyes, he turns on her?’

Annoyed, Cecelia got out of bed as well.

They each went to get their coats. Just as Cecelia picked hers up, she heard Damien let out a muffled groan.

"Ngh—"

She instinctively looked over at him. Damien had one arm through his coat sleeve, but the other was stuck halfway.

His face was ghastly pale, and he stood there hunched over, his expression contorted in pain.

"Did you hit your wound? Why aren’t you more careful? You shouldn’t be trying to wear a coat in your condition."

Cecelia quickly tossed her coat aside and rushed to his side.

Damien was trembling. Before she could even touch his arm, he pulled away.

"You don’t need to worry about me. Move!"

Cecelia couldn’t believe him.

"What’s wrong now? What did I do to offend you this time? Even if you can’t stand the sight of me, you don’t have to take it out on your own body! Besides, your bandage needs to be changed. Let me see your arm!"

Damien stubbornly craned his neck, turning his face away from her. He simply refused to let her touch him.

Cecelia tried to grab his arm a few times and missed, her own temper flaring.

"If I’d known you were this petty, I would have rather been taken yesterday than have you save me! You’re unbelievable..."

CRASH!

In a sudden rage, Damien swiped the lamp off the bedside table, sending it crashing to the floor.

"You’re unbelievable! If you want to leave so badly, then get out! And don’t ever let me see you again!"

"You!"

Cecelia had absolutely no idea what had gotten into him. She desperately wanted to just walk out, but... Damien’s arm was bleeding again.

Fresh blood streamed down the sleeve of his black coat, dripping onto the floor like a leaky faucet. DRIP. DRIP. DRIP.

Cecelia felt her own hair stand on end.

"Why did you move that arm?! The wound has torn open! Damien, do you have a death wish?! Let me see it, now!"

Damien was a full head taller than her and, still fuming, refused to let her touch him. Cecelia was at a loss.

"Please, I’m begging you, President Vaughn! You’re going to bleed to death if this continues. It was my fault just now. I shouldn’t have made you angry. Please, stop this."

Damien snapped, "Weren’t you in a hurry to get back to Shane Grant? I don’t need you to look after me!"

"I’m not in a hurry to see him, I just have to work today... Fine! I’ll call in sick! I won’t go!"

Only then did Damien finally turn his head back toward her. "Are you serious?"

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