CHAPTER 4: CHAPTER 4: WHO UPGRADED HER WARD?

That’s right, Stella Grant was lying quietly on the bed at this moment.

The ghastly pale light shone on her haggard little face—once so vibrant and bright, now drained of all color. A needle was stuck in her slender wrist, and clear liquid was dripping slowly into her body.

He felt a tightness in his chest, right over his heart.

Probably just indigestion!

He remembered she’d always had this problem, had even been hospitalized for it before.

Back then...

He shook off the messy memories in his mind, his gaze landing on her pale lips.

It looked like Stella Grant wasn’t sleeping soundly on the hospital bed. Her brows were lightly furrowed, and she moved a little subconsciously.

The blanket slipped down a bit.

Aiden Fordham almost instinctively took a step forward, reached out, and gently pulled the blanket up again, covering her exposed shoulder.

His fingertips inadvertently brushed her skin—it felt a little cold.

His movements froze for a second; he quickly withdrew his hand, as if he’d touched a hot potato.

Only after this did he belatedly realize what he’d just done.

An abrupt wave of irritation rose in him.

He looked around: a narrow, ordinary hospital room, the air heavy with disinfectant, the floor very low, noise drifting in from outside the window.

His brows instantly knit into a frown.

How could she possibly recover in a place like this?

He quickly took out his phone, dialed his assistant, his tone brooking no argument.

"Central Hospital, Room 302, Stella Grant."

"Immediately transfer her to the VIP suite on the top floor."

The assistant on the other end clearly paused for a moment, but didn’t dare ask. He hurriedly replied, "Yes, President Fordham."

Aiden Fordham paused, then added, "Order crab roe soup dumplings and ginkgo porridge from The Gilded Palate. Make sure they’re fresh from the kitchen."

Those used to be her favorite foods.

He didn’t even know why he remembered so clearly or why he suddenly gave this order.

Maybe, he just didn’t want to see her looking so pitiful.

Right, that had to be it.

"Deliver them to the VIP suite."

"Yes, President Fordham. I’ll arrange it right away."

After hanging up, Aiden Fordham looked one last time at Stella Grant lying in the hospital bed. It seemed her brows had eased a bit.

Pressing his lips together, he turned and strode out, not looking back, his steps as cold and distant as always.

Corinne Kensington finished bandaging her injured hand, the thick roll of gauze an eyesore. She was seething inside.

Just as she stepped out of the treatment room, she saw Aiden Fordham coming out from a hospital room at the end of the hallway.

That direction... wasn’t that the general ward?

Her heart skipped a beat, but her face lit up with just the right amount of frail sweetness as she hurried over and clung to his arm.

"Aiden, where did you go just now? I didn’t see you when I came out, gave me quite a scare!"

She pretended to glance casually at the room number behind Aiden—302.

Aiden Fordham turned his head and glanced at her, his gaze dropping to her gauze-wrapped hand, his tone indifferent: "Nothing, just went to the wrong floor."

"The wrong floor?" Corinne blinked, her voice syrupy sweet, "You silly, how’d you even get lost here?"

But inside, she sneered coldly. Aiden Fordham, of all people, get lost? As if.

Something’s definitely up with Room 302!

Aiden didn’t take her bait and just said, "Does your hand still hurt? Once it’s done, I’ll take you home."

"Mm, not really hurting anymore. Thank you, Aiden." Corinne nodded obediently, locking "302" firmly in her mind.

She’d like to see which little vixen was in there, actually making Aiden stoop down to visit a place like this!

Back at the Kensington villa, the lights blazed bright.

Mrs. Kensington—Helen Warren—immediately rushed over dramatically the second she saw the two come in.

"Oh my goodness! My precious baby girl! What happened to your hand, let me see!"

Helen Warren grabbed Corinne’s hand, her face glowing with maternal distress, though the corners of her eyes kept darting at Aiden Fordham, plastered with sycophantic smiles.

"Young Master Fordham, thank you so much! Corinne’s caused you nothing but trouble!"

Mr. Kensington quickly chimed in, "Yes, yes, Young Master Fordham, you’re too thoughtful. If it weren’t for you, who knows what disaster this girl might have wrought."

"No problem," Aiden Fordham said blandly, no emotion in his voice. He instructed Corinne, "Put medicine on time, keep your hand dry for a few days."

"Okay, I know. Thank you, Aiden." Corinne replied softly.

Aiden Fordham nodded, making no move to stay. "I have things to do, I’m leaving."

At the hospital, Stella Grant woke to darkness outside the window.

The tantalizing aroma of food pulled her awake.

She slowly opened her eyes, head a bit dizzy, stomach empty, but that sharp pain had eased a lot.

Focusing her gaze, she saw several elegant thermal lunchboxes on her bedside table.

One had The Gilded Palate’s logo on it.

Crab roe soup dumplings? Ginkgo porridge?

This...

She was dazed—who could’ve sent this?

Her first thought was Vivi Sterling, but quickly dismissed it, because she knew she shouldn’t eat this stuff.

Could it be...

That name flashed through her mind. He must have remembered—there was that one time she was at The Gilded Palate for lunch, he saw her, and she’d ordered exactly this.

Suddenly, she threw everything into the trash, not the least bit hungry anymore.

She wanted nothing of that man’s charity!

Right then, the door opened—a nurse in a pink uniform walked in, professional smile on her face.

"Miss Grant, you’re awake? How are you feeling?"

Stella Grant nodded weakly. "Much better, thank you."

"Oh my, why’d you throw out such nice food? There’s a microwave over there—you could warm it up."

The nurse spotted the fancy lunchboxes in the trash. They’d only been delivered a few hours ago.

"Not eating it. It’s already spoiled!" Stella said, layers of meaning in her words.

The nurse deftly checked the IV, then smiled, "Well, good timing—now we can move you to another room."

"Change rooms?" Stella stared blankly at her. "Why?"

The nurse’s smile grew even sweeter. "Yes, it’s all been arranged. You’ll be transferred to a VIP suite upstairs—the environment is better, quieter, more conducive to recovery."

"VIP suite?" Stella froze, uncertainty in her voice. "Who... who arranged this?"

Do hospitals just randomly offer upgrades? What a joke!

The nurse’s smile stayed fixed, but her tone was matter-of-fact, "We don’t know—orders came from above directly. Don’t worry, all the paperwork’s done. Just come with me."

"No, I don’t need to move. It’s fine here!"

First it was those inexplicably appearing crab roe dumplings and ginkgo porridge.

Now this sudden VIP suite out of nowhere.

Who else could it be but Aiden Fordham? But the wounds are already there; she wanted none of his pity.

Just then, Vivi Sterling walked in, carrying soup and flowers.

"Little Stella, feeling any better now? Hungry? Here’s Mom’s special chicken soup for you."

She caught sight of the takeout boxes in the trash. "The Gilded Palate even does takeout now?"

Stella Grant answered coldly, "No idea. Not eating it anyway."

Vivi Sterling winked at her. "Looks like a secret admirer to me. See, there are plenty of fish in the sea—why mope over a jerk like him?"

Somewhere, Aiden Fordham suddenly sneezed.

Vivi Sterling suddenly remembered something. She sat down by the bed. "You haven’t even been discharged, so why did you announce your comeback?"

Stella Grant was baffled. "Comeback?"

Vivi pulled out her phone and showed her, several of the top five trending searches were all about God N.

In just a few hours, news of God N appearing at the summit had gone viral worldwide.

Stella Grant’s heart skipped a beat. Only two people in the world would dare announce such a thing so brazenly.

It was him!

Her three-year contract with Aiden Fordham had only just expired.

The maniac couldn’t even wait a single day!