Chapter 15
Lucien had no choice but to take one of his own shirts to change Calista into.
Over the past month, she’d lost even more weight. She felt weightless in his arms when he picked her up.
Lucien immediately contacted Frank. After the doctor arrived in the middle of the night and gave Calista a fever -reducing shot, her condition gradually improved.
“When will she wake up?”
“Mrs. Fenwick is in poor condition, and she’s extremely weak. It would be best to do detailed tests at the hospital for the exact cause. She needs plenty of rest these next few days.”
“Understood.”
Calista was sick all night. She dreamed that she was trapped in a prison cell, unable to find her way out, no matter how hard she tried.
She was confined in endless darkness. Just when she managed to escape, she discovered another cliff waiting for her.
Calista woke up around noon. An unfamiliar maid was holding a bowl of soup in front of her. “Mrs. Fenwick, are you awake? Mr. Fenwick instructed me to have you drink this soup and take this medicine.”
Calista threw back the covers and realized that she was wearing Lucien’s shirt. She asked, “Where are my clothes?”
Having been caught in the rain and waiting outside for nearly four hours yesterday, her voice was hoarse.
“Those clothes were too old, so Mr. Fenwick had them thrown away.”
No matter how worn or torn they were, those clothes were still hers. What right did he have to get rid of them without asking?
Calista felt anger rise in her chest. “Could you please bring me a new set of clothes? Thank you.”
Her polite words surprised Janet Murdoch, the maid. She’d never met a wealthy wife who would speak so courteously to the help.
Janet quickly brought over a new dress in the style Calista used to wear. After changing, Calista headed toward the door.
Janet hurriedly said, “Mrs. Fenwick, Mr. Fenwick said that you can’t go anywhere.”
Calista couldn’t be bothered with that. Her head felt a bit foggy, but it was nothing serious. When she descended the stairs to the main hall, she saw a team of people bustling about.
The spacious hall was filled with a wide variety of new clothes, shoes, and handbags. Just then, a woman in professional attire, around 40 years old, approached Calista. She wore white gloves and had a practiced smile.
“Hello, Mrs. Fenwick. I’m Patricia Hartwell, the high–end personal styling manager for Dariel. Per Mr. Fenwick’s request, are you satisfied with these items?
“If there’s anything you don’t like, we can replace all of it at any time.”
Before Calista could respond, Patricia quickly produced a black velvet box. She opened it to reveal a blood–red diamond necklace.
“This is currently the world’s largest red diamond–the only one of its kind. It was personally designed by our company’s top designer, Evelyn Cross. Mrs. Fenwick, do you like the style?”
The living room was filled with dazzling items that would make any woman’s heart race. These were things Calista couldn’t earn in
several lifetimes.
Calista’s eyes were vacant as she said calmly, “We’re divorced, so don’t ask me.”
With that, she walked out.
Patricia looked at Calista’s departing figure in bewilderment. “Oh, this…”
Calista walked out of the Juniville estate and saw a delivery driver about to leave. She caught a ride with him.
With Calista gone, Patricia didn’t know what to do with all the items. She quickly contacted Lucien.
At Fenwick Group, Lucien set down his pen and answered the phone with one hand while rubbing his temples with the other. “I
understand. Arrange everything according to her usual preferences and have it sent to her room.”
After hanging up, Ophelia walked in carrying a cup of freshly brewed coffee and silently placed it on his desk.
Was Calista ignoring what he’d said?
7
Perhaps feeling guilty about last time, Lucien had been more patient with Calista lately, trying to appease her. But that didn’t mean that she could keep acting out indefinitely.
Ophelia moved behind him, her slender fingers resting on his shoulders as she began massaging them gently. “I noticed that you seemed distracted during today’s meeting. Are you still troubled by Calista?”
Lucien’s expression turned cold. “Don’t you know what’s inappropriate during office hours, Ms. Marchand?”
Ophelia’s hands stopped moving, her expression immediately darkening. “I simply noticed how uncomfortable you were and wanted to help you relax.”
Lucien opened another file and said, “That’s not your job. Don’t overstep.”
Ophelia’s movements faltered, a forced smile tugging at her lips. “Understood.”
“Get out.”
Ophelia left dejectedly, quietly closing the door behind her.
Lucien picked up his phone and called Calista, but she declined his call. Frowning, he sent her a text.
“Regarding Anthony’s situation, come to the office if you want to negotiate. My patience is limited. Don’t push your luck, Calista.”
