CHAPTER 83: CHAPTER 83: WILL YOU ACCOMPANY ME FOR MY SURGERY?

Grandma wasn’t aware of the couple’s issues; she thought that once she left, the two of them would be reconciled and continue their life together.

With Julian Fordham’s current status, no one would dare to bully Victoria Monroe anymore.

Grandma turned her head to glance at Victoria Monroe and noticed her spirits seemed somewhat low.

"What’s wrong? Are you missing him already after he’s just left?"

Victoria Monroe snapped out of the fluttering snowflakes, putting away the complex emotions in her eyes, and smiled at Grandma: "Yes, I miss him a bit."

By now, Assistant Prescott should have found him.

In the next two days, Victoria Monroe planned to stay on the mountain with Grandma. Once Grandma got used to it, she could go down the mountain to have the surgery.

To prevent any accidents, Victoria Monroe even turned off her phone to completely separate herself from the outside world’s turmoil.

She hadn’t expected that once she arrived at the parking lot of the sanatorium and pushed open the car door, she would see Rhys Hawthorne, standing tall with a black umbrella.

He was dressed in black, standing in front of the bamboo grove, which was painted green with snow.

His eyes were deep, nose high and prominent, features extraordinarily exquisite; his cashmere turtleneck rested at his Adam’s apple, blending with his porcelain-like skin, both noble and ascetic.

Alongside the leisurely falling snow, he stood there like a high-quality cinematic image.

For some reason, seeing Rhys Hawthorne brought Victoria Monroe a sense of familiarity.

Although the time spent together wasn’t long, he had witnessed many of her moments of vulnerability, augmented by their childhood sibling bond.

Originally, in Victoria Monroe’s world, only Grandma and Julian Fordham were the two extremely important people, but unconsciously, she accepted Rhys Hawthorne.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, somewhat surprised.

Rhys Hawthorne handed the umbrella to Assistant Woods and casually explained, "I still need to arrange a few things for Grandma."

Victoria Monroe gave an apologetic smile: "Sorry to trouble you, have you been waiting long?"

"Not long, just arrived."

Grandma instinctively glanced at the black umbrella surface, which accumulated a thick layer of snow, and her pupils deepened.

"Grandma, how’s your health?" Rhys Hawthorne proactively greeted and helped the elderly lady.

"How could it not be good? My granddaughter is my only close relative, how could I bear to leave her alone in this world."

In front of elders, Rhys Hawthorne was both steady and obedient, "Grandma will certainly live a long life. There are top-notch doctors here, just focus on resting well."

Victoria Monroe had a sweet smile on her lips, "Grandma, I’ll accompany you to check out the environment and try the breakfast here to see if it suits your taste."

"Alright."

Grandma was very cooperative. Being older, she could offer little help to her descendants and the only thing she could do was to avoid adding trouble for them.

If she stayed alone on the side, Victoria Monroe would certainly worry, so she needed to adapt quickly and let Victoria Monroe feel at ease living her own life.

The sanatorium’s standard was excellent, Grandma couldn’t find a single flaw, she was genuinely satisfied.

Assistant Woods had already arranged the breakfast, and Victoria Monroe assisted Grandma in sitting down.

Rhys Hawthorne placed a warm cup of soybean milk in front of Victoria Monroe, and as she looked up, she saw Rhys Hawthorne’s hand, gripping the glass cup, with its clear joints and slender fingers; the fair back of his hand showing distinct veins.

"Thank you."

Grandma quietly observed the interaction between the two.

She asked, "After so many years, has the young gentleman gotten married?"

While serving porridge for Grandma, his fingers paused slightly for a moment, his expression remaining calm, "No, I haven’t."

"Then a girlfriend? You’re not exactly young, you must have someone, right?"

"No one," Rhys Hawthorne answered calmly, holding a porcelain bowl and placing it in front of the elderly lady, exceptionally courteous and respectful.

Assistant Woods, nearby, explained, "My young master is entirely focused on his work, having no time for romance. Moreover, back in our hometown, late marriage and childbearing is supported, the young master is still young, not in a rush."

Victoria Monroe added, "Grandma, don’t worry about other people’s major issues; times have changed now, it’s not just late marriage and childbearing, there are plenty of people who choose not to marry or have children."

Grandma laughed heartily: "Seems I’ve fallen behind the times. Come on, everyone eat."

Victoria Monroe didn’t have much appetite, she drank a bit of white porridge and soybean milk.

"Girl, you can’t eat so little all the time, look at you, you’ve lost weight." She lovingly served Victoria Monroe a shrimp dumpling.

Victoria Monroe didn’t want Grandma to worry; she hadn’t swallowed yet and felt the acid rising in her stomach.

She forcibly suppressed it, "Grandma, I had breakfast earlier. I’m not hungry, you eat more."

After speaking, she got up and walked toward the restroom, not daring to reveal any hint.

At this critical moment, the fact that she was pregnant must never be known by Grandma.

Grandma still wanted to say something, but Rhys Hawthorne suddenly turned to fetch a cup from the rack, his tall stature blocking Grandma’s view.

Assistant Woods kept serving food and chatting actively to distract Grandma.

"Old lady, my young master had a kind of pickled vegetable made in Portoros; our home chef can never get the flavor he wants, perhaps you could write down a recipe for me to take back and study."

Engaged by this topic, Grandma was excited, explaining everything from choosing the ingredients to pickling them to Assistant Woods.

Assistant Woods straightforwardly pulled out his work notebook, dutifully jotting down notes.

*

Rhys Hawthorne said he came to handle paperwork but stayed on the mountain for a day; as night fell, Victoria Monroe went out to see him off.

Rhys Hawthorne held up a black umbrella, shielding them both from the wind and snow.

The night was tranquil, and the hot spring water on the mountain flowed down bamboo tubes, producing a pleasant "ding-dong" sound.

"The snow outside is heavy, I’ll leave you here." He handed the umbrella handle to Victoria Monroe.

Victoria Monroe didn’t know what she was thinking; her mind was foggy and indistinct.

Seeing Rhys Hawthorne reach out, she instinctively took her hand out of the down jacket pocket and, by some impulse, held Rhys Hawthorne’s hand.

The hand, with its faint warm feeling, unexpectedly met the man’s hand.

The cold in her palm felt like a bucket of cold water, instantly pulling her rationality back.

She hurriedly withdrew her hand, her voice full of awkwardness: "Sorry, sorry, I—I was lost in thought."

The black umbrella blocked most of the light, casting Rhys Hawthorne’s face into darkness from his lips upwards.

Victoria Monroe couldn’t clearly see his expression; she only saw his thin lips tightly pressed together.

He seemed to have looked at her for a long moment before finally speaking: "My car has arrived, the snow’s too heavy on the way back, use the umbrella for shelter."

Victoria Monroe realized belatedly and took the umbrella handle, this time cautiously avoiding any contact with him.

Victoria Monroe watched the tall man’s silhouette stepping into the snow, softly called out: "Rhys Hawthorne."

The man paused his steps, turned his body to look toward her.

The warm light of the streetlamp fell on the man’s handsome face, adding a layer of radiance, making his well-defined face somewhat less intimidatingly severe.

He remained silent, his deep eyes focused on her.

Though devoid of any extra emotions, every time he looked at her this way, Victoria Monroe would have the illusion that his eyes seemed full of her.

Seeing her awkward expression, hesitant to speak, Rhys Hawthorne gently reminded: "Hmm?"

His voice, in this quiet night, sounded especially pleasant, like a cello, elegant and luxurious.

Victoria Monroe bit her lip, finding it difficult to speak: "I’ve scheduled surgery for the day after tomorrow, I’m scared to go alone; in Kenton, I don’t have other friends or family, could you...?"

Before she could finish, the man resolutely responded: "Of course."