The Secret Pregnancy of the Billionaire's Ex-Wife

Chapter 131

Chapter 131: The Purpose Behind Her Care

Sean POV

I woke early, sitting upright in my hospital bed despite the dull achen my stomach. Thomas kept giving me concerned glances from the corner of the room, but I refused to lie hack dowen.

"Mr. Shaw, it's barely seven, Thomas said, adjusting his glasses neusly. Ms. Wilson won't be here this early. You barely slept last night. Perhaps you should rest a bit longer? I could wait by the dog and alert you when she arrives."

"You're too loud, I muttered, keeping my eyes fixed on the door,

As minutes stretched into hours, I felt my mood darkening. What if he didn't comer Thomas finally offered to check the hospital entrance, but just as he reached for the door, Angela appeared,

thermal container.

The rich aroma of cream and mushrooms filled the room as she removed the lid, revealing a perfectly prepared cream of mushroom

soup.

"You made this yourself?" I asked, taking the bowl she offered.

Angela raised an eyebrow. "Who else would have?"

While I ate, Angela conversed quietly with Thomas about my condition. The doctor recommends a strict diet regimen even after discharge." Thomas explained. "No alcohol whatsoever, and regular meals are essential."

Angela nodded, her expression professional and detached.

After I finished eating, I watched in dismay as she immediately began gathering her things.

"You're leaving already?" I couldn't mask my disappointment.

"I have work," she replied coolly. "Rest well and make sure you eat lunch." She turned to Thomas with a warning: "If he refuses to

eat, let me know. I won't come this evening if he doesn't."

At noon, I watched Thomas read a message on his phone and smile,

if you'd eaten lunch," he informed me. I told her you

"What did she say?" I asked, trying

the screen:

response, feeling my shoulders slump. After a mement's hesitation, I dictated my own message to Thomas: "I ate lunch. When will you

came

had fallen by the time Angela

it take you

countered evenly. "Does

don't need to cook," I insisted. "Just coming by would be

1/3

Purpose Behind Her

explanation before urging me to eat before the food cooled. After I finished,

days, the pallen continued. Angela arrived punctually each morning and evening with carefully prepared meals -French onion soup, bisque, consommé-that progressed from liqul

myself increasingly bewildered by her

consistent in her case the food abways nitive at the same times, prepared with evident skill-yet she seemed to

than Angela ever did. The contradiction gnawed

checking tens off a

life with.

fourth morning I accepted the

t immediately begin eating.

bringing me food?"

Angela didn't answer.

"Why do you c

about my recovery?"

first," she replied

repeated my question. This time, Angela

"It's a transaction."

at her,

By bringing you meals and helping with your recovery, 1 eam the right to have you take

words washed over me like ice water. The thermal containers, the carefully prepared meals, the consistent visits-none of it had been about concern for me. All

pain that had nothing to do with my ulcers. I'd allowed myself to believe, even briefly, that her presence meant she still

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