Chapter 3

Natalie Evans POV

In the afternoon, I went to the hospital.

I signed all the paperwork and documents needed for my father's transfer.

Right then, Julian called. "If you have time, come keep Serena company at the hospital over the next few days. She's in a vulnerable state, and I might not always be free to be with her."

Signing the final document, I couldn't help but snap back, "The hospital has nurses. What kind of company does she need from me? Should I sing and dance to entertain her?"

Julian's tone grew displeased. "What's with your attitude? Serena is part of the Foster family. When we get married, she'll be your sister. She's hospitalized; isn't it only proper for you to visit out of courtesy?"

"You always used to have good manners. What is wrong with you today, throwing one tantrum after another? I've really spoiled you rotten."

Trembling with anger, I hung up directly.

Seconds later, Julian sent a location pin with no accompanying text.

What a coincidence. The location was in this very building.

My father and Serena Vance were staying in the same hospital.

I went back to listening to the doctor's update on my father's condition. There was no improvement, but I had already prepared myself for that.

Once that was settled, I thought about it and decided to head toward Serena's room anyway.

It wasn't far—just two floors down.

The room door was slightly ajar.

When I pushed it open, Julian was sitting by the bedside, carefully slicing an apple into small pieces and feeding them to Serena.

Hearing the door, Julian turned his head.

"What took you so long?" He glanced at his watch, frowning slightly. "Serena said this morning she was craving pancakes. Didn't I text you to pick some up on your way?"

Frowning, I checked my chat history and saw that Julian had indeed texted me two hours ago.

Looking into his eyes, my voice carried a faint, barely detectable tremor. "That shop is too far. My blood sugar dropped this morning and I felt dizzy, so I didn't go out of my way to buy them."

I wanted to see if this man—who once stayed up all night in a panic over my minor cold—would show even a shred of concern upon hearing that I felt unwell.

Even just a sliver.

The room fell silent for a moment.

Julian's gaze swept over my pale face, but it didn't linger for a second.

Looking away, he casually grabbed a wet wipe and cleaned his hands. "Natalie, Serena has had health complications ever since that accident. You know how much she's suffered these past three years."

He looked at me, his tone so calm it sounded like an indisputable truth.

"As the family member of the person responsible, is buying her breakfast really asking too much?"

Staring at him, the very last trace of foolish hope in my heart shattered into dust.

Everything I had heard outside the private room last night was real.

I still remembered how, two years ago, when I was hospitalized with acute gastroenteritis and drenched in cold sweat from the pain, Julian dropped everything to stay by my bedside for three days and three nights.

I used to think that was love.

No wonder he kept checking his phone every few minutes back then. No wonder he stood in the hallway smoking anxiously all night long.

Those three days happened to be the exact window when Serena was undergoing minimally invasive surgery on her heart abroad.

He was waiting by my bedside, but his heart was waiting for the outcome of Serena's surgery.

All his true devotion had been placed on someone else.

"You're right." I looked down, my lips curving into a self-deprecating smile. "It's not asking too much."

The door opened, and several of Julian's friends walked in.

Hearing my words, one of them sneered, "Natalie Evans, why do you always look so wronged? If you don't want to come, then don't. Who are you putting on this act for? Julian's the only one who indulges you; anyone else would have lost their patience long ago."

"Exactly. You can't even show a little tolerance, yet you act so high and mighty."

Julian sat in his chair, letting his friends mock me without saying a single word.

In the past, he would never have allowed anyone to humiliate me like this.

Six months ago, a drunken wealthy businessman casually referred to me as a maid, and Julian blew up on the spot.

Back then, he protected me fiercely: "Natalie is my fiancée. Anyone who gives her grief is insulting me."

Sure enough, as the wedding date approached, his patience was wearing thin.

Now, as they trampled my dignity right in front of him, he didn't even knit his brows.