The door of the hospital room was pushed open, and Ian Kane glanced up, his gaze imdiately locking onto Vera Sheridan, who was half a step behind Maeve Holloway.
She wore a plain ink-colored dress, her face expressionless. Her eyes fell calmly on him, yet they seed to be separated by an invisible layer of ice.
Images of her and Noah Grant leaving indifferently before he lost consciousness flashed through Ian’s mind, a hint of darkness flickering in his eyes. His lips curved into a smile, his voice still warm and deep: "Mrs. Kane, Maeve, you’re here, please sit."
He sat upright in his wheelchair, his hospital gown unable to hide the noble and strong aura surrounding him.
Vera’s gaze brushed over him indifferently, silent and unspoken.
Maeve’s expression was cold and distant.
Without exchanging pleasantries, she didn’t even bother with formalities. She directly took a bank card from her shoulder bag, stepped forward, bent down with a light "clap," and placed it on the coffee table in front of Ian.
Ian’s brows knitted slightly, his gaze sweeping over the card with a faint smile on his lips: "Maeve, what is this?"
Maeve straightened up, looking down at him with a tone that decisively drew boundaries: "President Kane, the card contains the past year’s rent for my studio in your office building, calculated at market price, not a penny less."
Ever since Vera saw his true colors, she had been saving this money.
She didn’t want to owe Ian anything.
At the sa ti, she worried that when the divorce case went to court, Ian would use it as an argunt about how he loved Vera and took care of her friends.
As a friend, she couldn’t be a burden to Vera.
Ian’s jaw tightened, his face showing confusion: "There’s no need to be so distant."
Maeve looked at him with disbelief, mories of the past surfacing—
He helped her register the studio and assigned soone to assist; he, as a big shot, considerately carried shopping bags for her... his care was ticulous, real, almost uncalculated.
Also, he had set a trap involving Owen Sheridan but let go at the last mont due to Vera’s tears...
Maeve’s tone was sowhat softened but still distant: "Ian, you took care of before, letting use your place for free. But now, you’re divorcing Vera. It’s no longer appropriate."
The words "no longer appropriate" pricked Ian’s eardrums like needles.
The veins bulged on the back of the hand resting on the wheelchair’s armrest, and the wound on his abdon seed to throb with silent sha.
He forced a weak, bitter smile, gazing at Vera with eyes full of hurt: "Vera..."
Vera caught the look of hurt in his eyes and suddenly rembered that night when his mont of softness let Owen go, but her heart remained unmoved.
She turned her eyes away indifferently, her voice cold: "Maeve, let’s go."
Maeve turned to walk toward her.
Ian’s Adam’s apple moved, "Maeve! You’re Vera’s friend, and we’ve known each other for years. I helped you because I sincerely want the people around her to be well. It’s just a small matter; is there a need to be so particular? Take the card back."
Maeve suddenly stopped and turned around, her gaze firm: "President Kane, I appreciate your kindness. But you must accept this money. Keeping clear boundaries is best for everyone." With that, she took Vera’s arm, ready to leave.
Ian quickly maneuvered his electric wheelchair forward, and just as Vera was about to step out of the room, his large hand clamped tightly around her slender wrist like an iron vice!
"Wife, don’t go!" His voice was hoarse and cracked, like sandpaper scraping a tabletop, full of humble entreaty.
Vera didn’t look back, struggling fiercely.
Ian held tighter, controlling his strength so as not to hurt her, only encircling her wrist with his palm.
He lifted his head, his gaze fixed on her cold profile, dark eyes glistening with broken tears, his voice choked:
"Vera, Owen just ca by... I know he stabbed out of madness, it’s my fault. But he still cares for as a brother; he’s been lingering at the door these days... It’s my fault, I shouldn’t have used him and hurt his feelings. The Thorne Family’s project, I will continue to invest."
"Wife... I know I was wrong, I’m really changing!" His words were heartfelt, as if every word was stained with blood.
Vera’s heart was as hard as iron, her voice laced with ice: "Ian Kane, saying this now is too late. Let go!"
While struggling, out of the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of a tear slipping from the corner of his eye, and her actions montarily paused.
Ian noticed the slight hesitation, his gaze instantly burning like a brand, persistently looking up at her, a bitter curve on his lips: "Vera... after that night, did you still think I had only calculations for you?"
His voice was hoarse, full of deep affection.
"I love you. Seeing you cry... it completely undid . At that mont, all I wanted was to make you feel better, and I forgot all about the stakes, the calculations. I didn’t even realize myself... that I love you so deeply."
"All those calculations and tactics... were because I was afraid, afraid of losing you."
His words seed to co from the depths of his heart, and they were as painful as they were sincere.
For a mont, Vera forgot to move, frozen in place.
Outside the door, Maeve was also stunned.
Ever since Vera saw Ian Kane’s true nature, she was convinced he was heartless.
Gaining Vera was a hunter’s reward, and refusing to let go was a pathological desire for control.
But the incident with Owen revealed his genuine feelings for Vera.
Seeing this, Ian’s voice grew softer, his eyes filled with sweet mories: "Do you rember? That winter in Veridia, the snow was so heavy... I rember you always cared about those stray cats you fed..."
"I braved the wind and snow for half the night, my hands turning red from the cold, my bones feeling like they were freezing... just to build them a shelter to survive, because you cared for them!"
His voice trembled slightly, as if reliving that snowy night, "Vera, whatever you care about, I’ll do everything to ensure it! My feelings for you, since that cat shelter, have been real, never wavering!"
When Ian ntioned the "cat shelter," Vera first froze, then her eyes turned icy cold.
She suddenly shook off his hand, the force so great it made Ian’s wheelchair shake!
She spun around abruptly, towering over the man in the wheelchair, her lips curving into a sarcastic line:
"Ian Kane!" Her voice wasn’t loud, yet each word was icy, piercing through his hypocrisy, "How dare you ntion that cat shelter?"
She understood too; his passionate "affection" just now was another act, emotionally manipulating her, making her soften and turn back!
Ha, he was still scheming against her!
Ian’s heart suddenly sank, an ominous feeling gripping him.
His breath hitched.
Vera leaned slightly, her gaze piercing into his eyes, enunciating every word through clenched teeth:
"That person who froze in the snow for half the night, so cold they fell into a feverish coma, lying for a whole week—just to build a shelter for the cats I cared about..."
She paused for a second, watching Ian’s face turn ashen in an instant, the na that caught in his throat finally spoken:
"It was—Noah Grant!"
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