Chapter 211

The pharmacy's glass door reflected the blinding sunlight. Sophia Lowell squinted as she pushed it open.

Five minutes later, she stepped out clutching a box of fever reducers. The security guard at Bayview Residences nodded at her as she took the private elevator straight to the penthouse.

The doors slid open to reveal Zachary Evans' frantic face.

"Ms. Lowell!" He looked ready to drop to his knees. "You're finally here!"

Sophia arched a brow, slipping off her shoes while eyeing the half-million-dollar-a-year assistant. "Zachary, does your boss pay you that much just to perform melodramas in his foyer?"

Zachary choked on his reply.

The bedroom door stood ajar. Sophia pushed it open—then froze mid-step.

Ethan Roscente lay sprawled across the bed, a towel draped loosely over his hips. His golden chest rose and fell unevenly, damp strands of hair clinging to his fever-flushed forehead. The usually composed features were now twisted in discomfort.

"He took an ice bath as soon as he got home," Zachary whispered. "By the time I found him, his fever had spiked to 103."

Sophia approached the bed. Even unconscious, the man's sculpted physique commanded attention.

She reached to check his temperature. Her wrist was suddenly seized in a vice-like grip.

"Get out." Ethan's voice was hoarse, but his hold was ironclad.

Sophia hissed in pain. "Ethan! It's me!"

His lashes fluttered. The grip loosened slightly, but he stubbornly clung to her. "Don't go..."

Zachary hovered awkwardly with a glass of water.

With a sigh, Sophia leaned close to Ethan's ear. "I'm not leaving." Her fingers brushed his burning skin, abruptly recalling a rainy night three years prior.

The alley had reeked of blood. Under her umbrella, she'd spotted a battered teenager curled against the wall. Bloodied but defiant, he'd grabbed her ankle and uttered those same words.

She'd relented then.

And she was relenting now.