Chapter 66

Sean POV

I took in Christina's fragile form in the doorway of her hospital room. She stood barefoot, swaying slightly, the white bandage around her head making her look unnaturally pale under the harsh fluorescent lights.

"You should be in bed," I said, moving to steady her as I guided her back to her room.

"I just..." Christina's voice wavered. "I don't want to be alone right now."

"I'm not leaving," I assured her, loosening my bow tie. "I was just going to get something for you."

Her eyes widened slightly. "At this hour?"

"You mentioned wanting strawberries earlier, didn't you?" I checked my watch-just past midnight. "I'll find some for you."

"Sean, you don't have to-"

"Rest," I cut her off gently. "I won't be long."

The city stretched before me, a maze of neon signs and empty sidewalks. Most shops had closed hours ago, their darkened windows reflecting the occasional passing car.

I drove methodically, scanning for any sign of an open market or convenience store.

Waiting at a red light, my mind drifted to another late-night food run, years ago. Angela had shown up at my apartment at 2 AM with soup from my favorite Chinese restaurant, knowing I'd been working late on a merger deal.

She hadn't said anything about the hour, just set up the food on my desk and sat quietly beside me while I ate, occasionally pointing out errors in my financial models.

The memory hit me with unexpected force. Angela had always done things like that-quiet acts of care that never demanded acknowledgment. Even now, years into our marriage, she still...

My hands tightened on the steering wheel. No. I wouldn't think about Angela right now.

Not about the way she'd looked at me earlier, hurt and betrayal etched across her features.

Not about the sound of shattering glass in our bathroom, or the way she'd recoiled from my touch as if it burned.

Finally, after nearly an hour of searching, I found a 24-hour Korean market in the East Village. The owner eyed me curiously as I purchased their last container of strawberries-a executive in evening wear was probably not their usual 1 AM customer.

Christina's face lit up when I returned with the fruit.

"You actually found some," she said softly, watching as I arranged the strawberries on a plate. "I can't believe you went to all that trouble for me."

"It wasn't trouble." I placed the plate on her bedside table, noting how the harsh hospital lighting made the cut on her forehead look worse than it was.

"Sean..." Her fingers brushed against mine as I adjusted the plate. "About what happened at the party..."

"Actually," I cut in gently, "I wanted to talk about that. The things Jennifer said about Angela-they weren't true, were they?"

Christina's hand withdrew slowly. "Why are you asking me this now?"

"Because accusations like that can damage someone's reputation." I kept my voice carefully neutral. "It would help if you could clarify what really happened on social media."

"Oh." Christina's expression shifted, something calculating flickering behind her eyes. "So you brought me strawberries just to ask for Angela's sake?"

"That's not what this is about," I said firmly. "Christina, I need you to understand something. The rumors and accusations from tonight-they need to be addressed. I can't stand by and let anyone insult or humiliate Angela anymore."

I used to think that being my wife would protect her from all of this. That no one would dare disrespect her.

But I was completely wrong. Maybe it's my own negligence that's given others the courage to attack her. My silence has made her vulnerable.

Christina picked up a strawberry, taking a delicate bite before nodding slowly. "Sean," she said softly, her voice honey-sweet, "whatever you want me to do, I'll do it."

A nurse appeared in the doorway, clipboard in hand. "Mr. Shaw? The Doctor would like to discuss Miss Jordan's treatment plan."

The doctor's news was direct: while the cut would heal, there might be scarring. Christina's reaction was immediate-her composure crumbling as tears filled her eyes.

"A scar?" Her voice trembled. "But... my face..."

"The procedures for scar reduction are quite advanced now," the Doctor assured her. "With proper treatment-"

"What if it doesn't work?" Christina's hand clutched my arm. "What if I'm left with this mark forever? You won't want..."

"Christina, look at me. It's going to be fine. We'll get you the best treatment available."

I couldn't help but feel a little irritated. It was just a tiny scar-why was she so panicked about it? She seemed to care way too much about how she looked.

She raised her tear-stained face to mine, and before I could react, Christina had pressed her lips against mine. The kiss lasted only a moment before I pulled back.

"I'm sorry," Christina whispered, though her eyes held no real regret. "I just... I'm so scared of losing you, Sean. First Angela, and now this..."

I stepped back, creating careful distance between us. "You should get some rest," I said quietly. "It's late."

But as I moved toward the door, Christina's voice stopped me:

"Are you going back to her?" Her voice grew softer, almost pleading.

"Please, stay with me tonight. My head hurts so much, and I'm scared..."