The air in the penthouse froze.
Hart Matthew stood by the intercom, his hand still resting on the button, his expression dark and unreadable. He turned slowly to look at Eunice, who was still sitting on the kitchen counter, clutching her jar of pickles like a lifeline.
"Let him in," Hart said, his voice dangerously calm.
He pressed the button to unlock the private elevator.
Eunice's heart hammered against her ribs. She looked at the door, willing it to stay closed. Liam was her doctor, yes, but he was also a terrible liar. If Hart asked him a direct question, would he crumble?
Ding.
The elevator doors slid open. Dr. Liam stepped out, looking disheveled in a casual jacket thrown over scrubs. He looked frantic. He clearly hadn't expected to find the CEO of Matthew Group standing shirtless in the hallway at 3:00 AM.
"Mr. Matthew," Liam said, stopping in his tracks. He clutched a manila folder to his chest. "I… didn't expect you to be awake."
"It is my house," Hart stated, crossing his arms over his bare chest. He didn't offer a handshake. He looked like a guard dog protecting his territory. "And you are visiting my assistant in the middle of the night. Explain."
Liam's eyes darted to Eunice. He saw her pale face, the terrified look in her eyes, and the jar of pickles. He was a smart man. He pieced it together instantly.
"I tried calling Miss Vance," Liam said, keeping his voice steady. "She didn't answer. Her blood work from the other day… it came back with some alarming irregularities. I couldn't wait until morning."
"Alarming how?" Hart stepped forward, extending his hand. "Give me the file."
Eunice stopped breathing. The file contained the ultrasound. It contained the words 'Twin Gestation'.
"No!" Eunice blurted out, sliding off the counter. "Hart, that's private medical information! You can't just—"
"I am responsible for you," Hart cut her off, his eyes never leaving Liam. "If you are dying, I need to know. Give me the file, Doctor."
It was an order, not a request.
Liam hesitated. He looked at the powerful man in front of him, then at Eunice's pleading eyes. He took a deep breath.
"I can't give you the file, sir," Liam said firmly. "Patient confidentiality laws are strict. Even for you."
Hart's jaw tightened. The temperature in the room seemed to drop ten degrees. "You are testing my patience."
"However," Liam continued quickly, stepping between Hart and Eunice. "I can explain the diagnosis. Miss Vance is suffering from… severe nutritional deficiency. Specifically, acute iron-deficiency anemia and electrolyte imbalance."
Hart paused. "Anemia?"
"Yes," Liam lied smoothly. "It explains the fainting spells. The extreme fatigue. The nausea." He pointed to the jar of pickles on the counter. "And the pica—the craving for strange foods like salt and pickles. Her body is screaming for minerals she doesn't have."
Eunice exhaled, her knees going weak with relief. Anemia. It was the perfect cover.
Hart frowned, processing the information. He looked at Eunice, seeing her pale skin in a new light.
"Is it dangerous?" Hart asked, his voice losing its edge, replaced by concern.
"If left untreated, yes," Liam said gravely. "She could collapse. Her heart is working overtime. She needs rest, a specific diet, and absolutely no stress."
Hart turned to Eunice. He walked over to her, ignoring Liam for a moment. He reached out and placed his large, warm hand on her shoulder, his thumb brushing her collarbone.
"You're starving yourself," he murmured, sounding angry at himself. "I worked you so hard you forgot to eat."
"I... I'm sorry," Eunice whispered, playing along.
"Don't apologize," Hart commanded softly. He turned back to Liam. "Write down everything she needs. Supplements. Diet plan. Everything. I will have my personal chef handle it."
"I have the supplements here," Liam said, pulling a bottle of vitamins (safely unlabelled) from his bag. "She needs to take these every night. And she needs sleep, Mr. Matthew. Real sleep. Not four hours between emails."
"Understood," Hart said. "She is on medical leave starting now. She won't step foot in the office until you clear her."
Eunice's eyes widened. "But the merger—"
"I don't care about the merger," Hart snapped, but his hand squeezed her shoulder gently. "I care about you not collapsing on my floor."
He took the bottle from Liam. "Thank you, Doctor. You can show yourself out."
It was a dismissal. Liam nodded, gave Eunice one last significant look—a silent promise that her secret was safe with him—and retreated to the elevator.
When the doors closed, they were alone again.
Hart looked at the bottle of vitamins, then at the jar of pickles. He sighed, a heavy sound of exhaustion.
"Anemia," he muttered, shaking his head. "I am a billionaire, and my… assistant… is malnourished under my own roof."
He picked up Eunice effortlessly, sweeping her into his arms bridal style.
"Hart!" Eunice squeaked. "I can walk!"
"Save your energy," Hart grumbled, walking toward the bedroom. "From now on, I watch everything you eat. If you lose one more pound, Eunice, I am shutting down the company to feed you myself."
He carried her not to the guest room, but toward the master bedroom.
"Wait," Eunice panicked. "Where are we going?"
"My bed," Hart stated simply. "The guest room is too far away. If you stop breathing in the night, I need to know."
He kicked the door open and laid her gently on the massive king-sized mattress that smelled of sandalwood and him.
"Sleep," he ordered, pulling the duvet over her. "I'll be right here."