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,

eaten lunch," he

"What did she say?" I asked, trying

the screen: a simple

slump. After a mement's hesitation, I dictated

came swiftly: "After

fallen by the time Angela arrived with

it take you so long to get

countered

don't need to cook," I insisted. "Just

1/3

Purpose Behind Her

further explanation before urging me to eat

the next several days, the pallen continued. Angela arrived punctually each morning and evening with carefully prepared meals -French onion soup, bisque, consommé-that progressed from liqul to semi-solid as my

found myself increasingly bewildered by her

was meticulously consistent in her case the food abways nitive at the same times, prepared with evident skill-yet she seemed to avoid any real conversation or

who checked my vitals twice daily offered water smiles and friendlier chatter than Angela ever did. The contradiction gnawed at me. Why would she dedicate so much effort visiting me every day, only to treat our interactions with such

though she was merely fulfilling an obligation, checking tens

life with.

I accepted the breakfast-a

t immediately begin eating.

do you keep bringing me food?" I

Angela didn't answer.

"Why do you c

about my recovery?" I

first," she replied

my

"It's a transaction."

at

her. By bringing you meals and helping with your recovery, 1 eam

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

anticipated. My chest tightened with a pain that had nothing to do with my ulcers. I'd

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