CHAPTER 240: SICK

Anna quickly opened the drawer and pulled out the first-aid kit. She rummaged through it, found the thermometer, and hurried back to Daniel’s side.

"Here—put it in your mouth," she instructed, holding it out to him.

But Daniel, acting like the clingy patient he’d suddenly become, simply parted his lips and tilted his head toward her, silently demanding she do it for him.

Anna rolled her eyes, letting out a long, unimpressed sigh. "Seriously?" she muttered under her breath—but she still leaned in and placed the thermometer gently between his lips. Once it was settled, she checked the time on her watch.

He had been perfectly fine that morning... or at least that’s what she believed. Now, feeling the warmth radiating from his skin made her chest tighten.

Had her words this morning affected him that deeply? She didn’t want to assume it—but she couldn’t ignore the way he’d reacted either. Stress could do strange things, and Daniel often bottled up more than he showed.

The thermometer beeped. Anna pulled it out and froze.

"101." Her eyes widened. "Daniel, this isn’t normal. You need a doctor." Panic rushed through her voice as she placed the thermometer back into the kit and grabbed her phone to call Henry.

But before she could even press a digit, Daniel’s hand curled around her wrist. In one tug—quick but gentle—he pulled her toward him, guiding her onto his lap.

"Daniel—!" she gasped, steadying herself.

He didn’t let go. His arms slipped around her waist, holding her close, almost protectively. He rested his forehead against her shoulder, breathing her in as warmth from his fever seeped through her clothes.

"I don’t need a doctor, wifey..." His voice was hoarse, weak, yet full of quiet longing. "I need you."

Anna’s breath hitched. The vulnerability in his tone, the way he clung to her—like she was the only place his weary body found comfort—softened something inside her.

Daniel rarely fell sick. But on the rare occasions he did, he always sought warmth... something familiar... something that felt like home.

And right now, that home was her.

His fingers tightened slightly on her waist as he snuggled closer, his forehead brushing the curve of her neck.

Anna blinked away her worry and slowly wrapped an arm around him, her free hand rising to stroke the back of his head.

"Fine," she murmured softly, giving in to the moment as she felt him exhale against her skin. "I’m here. Just... don’t scare me like that again."

This was the second time she told him though he wasn’t that scary then the last time he screamed acting he fell in the bathroom.

Daniel hummed faintly, nuzzling deeper into her warmth—as if her presence alone could soothe his fever.

Anna slowly threaded her fingers through his hair, her touch gentle and steady. Daniel hugged her even tighter, as if afraid she would slip away if he loosened his grip even a little.

"If my mom was alive... she would’ve loved you," he murmured suddenly.

Anna stilled. The words struck her harder than she expected. Daniel never talked about his family. Not in this life. Not in the previous one. His mother was a door he had always kept locked—yet now, in his fevered vulnerability, that door cracked open for the first time.

When he lifted his head to look at her, she met his gaze. His smile was soft, unguarded... so unlike the sharp businessman the world knew. In that moment, he looked like a boy who had misplaced too much love too early and never truly recovered from it.

"Is that so?" she whispered, brushing her thumb along his jaw, her touch tender.

He hummed. "Hmm. You remind me of her."

Then he buried his face back into the crook of her neck, breathing her in like her scent alone could calm the fever twisting inside him.

Silence settled around them—comfortable, fragile, almost sacred. Daniel didn’t speak again, and Anna didn’t ask anything more. She simply held him until the tension in his shoulders slowly melted, until his breathing evened out, until the weight of exhaustion finally dragged him down.

She wanted to tell him about Kira’s disappearance... about Mariam’s worry... about her own uneasy suspicion that it all tied back to what happened to her mother. The timing felt perfect—just the two of them, his guard down, her heart full.

But she couldn’t—not when he was barely awake, not when he clung to her like she was the only thing keeping him grounded.

When Anna realized he had fallen completely asleep, she gently shifted. Supporting his head with her hands, she eased him down onto the bed and reached to pull the blanket over him.

But before she could even straighten up, his fingers closed around her wrist—warm, firm, instinctive.

"Daniel..." she whispered.

Half-asleep, he tugged her down, guiding her onto the mattress beside him. His movements were sluggish yet determined, as though even unconscious, he refused to let her go.

Anna’s back met his chest, and in the next heartbeat he wrapped his arms around her, caging her against him. His breath warmed the back of her neck, soft and uneven.

"Stay..." he mumbled, tightening his hold.

Anna relaxed into him, her hand slipping over his forearm as she felt his heartbeat steady against her spine.

For the first time in a long while, it felt like he wasn’t hiding behind walls.

For the first time, he let her in.

Once Daniel’s breathing turned completely steady, Anna carefully slipped out of his hold, pulling the blanket up to his shoulders before easing herself off the bed. She padded quietly out of the room, closing the door behind her with a soft click.

The moment she stepped into the attached office suite, she found Henry pacing back and forth like a lunatic. The blinds were drawn, the glass tinted, and the entire place carried the suffocating stillness of a crisis waiting to erupt.

But the second Henry spotted her, he froze mid-step—like a statue struck by lightning.

In his mind, he was already kneeling before her, trembling, while she towered over him with a hunter’s whip, laughing as he awaited judgment.

"Madam," he croaked. His voice shook. His legs wobbled so hard it looked like they might give out any second.

Anna narrowed her eyes.

"Don’t."

One word and Henry straightened like someone had shoved a metal rod down his spine. Her piercing gaze sliced straight through his soul.

"Save that dramatic face for another time," she said coldly. "Right now, go get a doctor. Daniel’s burning with fever, and I doubt a home remedy will do anything."

Henry gasped. "H-He has a fever now?"

Anna’s brow arched sharply. That tone... it wasn’t surprise. It was something else. Hesitation. Guilt.

"What do you mean now?" she asked slowly, her voice cooling into something dangerous. "Was he unwell this morning?"

Realization hit her in an instant—that was why Henry looked terrified. Why he kept glancing everywhere but her. Why he avoided her eyes like they might swallow him whole.

He knew.

And he hadn’t done anything.

Her expression darkened in a heartbeat.

"You knew, didn’t you?" Her voice dropped to a chilling softness that made Henry’s stomach flip. "Your boss was feeling unwell and you didn’t bother to look after him?"

Henry’s soul left his body.

"M-Madam, no— I mean—yes—I mean—" His eyes welled up, and he mentally cried, already imagining a dozen ways he was about to be fired... or murdered... depending on Daniel’s mood later. "Please don’t kill me, I swear I tried—he refused—he ordered me not to—Madam I’m innocent, I swear—!"

Anna pinched the bridge of her nose.

"Henry." He froze.

"Doctor. Now."

"Yes, Madam!" he squeaked, practically sprinting out of the office like his life depended on it—which, frankly, it might.