Chapter 3

As I pondered Howard's worry, my thoughts drifted to more mischievous notions.

"If that Miser dares to handle me like that bully Lance, I'll vow to wed him just to torment his clan for eternity!"

"Finished venting?"

The well-known voice caused me to stiffen instantly.

"S-sir? What brings you here in person?"

Disregarding the ache in my spine, I hurriedly sat up, my shame making it hard to look at him. He couldn't possibly know I'd been calling him Miser, could he?

Howard noticed my grimace and moved closer to assist.

"Didn't you request my presence to address the issue?"

Grasping his hand, I immediately began to perspire.

I was anxious, but I attempted to appear calm. "Lance and his betrothed wrecked my residence—"

However, before I could reiterate, he interrupted me. "I heard. I'll resolve it. Concentrate on your recovery for now."

In the following days, to my astonishment, Howard took it upon himself to tend to me at the medical facility.

"Sir, truly, reimbursement is sufficient. You needn't go to such lengths," I muttered as he was dicing fruit for me.

He paused, the blade suspended in mid-air. "Are you certain about that?"

His look held an odd intensity, causing me to waver. Before I could answer, he finished slicing the fruit and—to my dismay—reached for my personal garments to launder.

Alarmed, I leapt from the bed. "I'll handle it myself!"

I moved so swiftly that I stumbled directly into his embrace. Fortunately, he caught me, mindful of the dressings on my back.

"Mind yourself," he said softly, holding me steady.

I felt cornered, my words spilling out in irritation. "Listen, I shouldn't have used nicknames, but what Lance did isn't something a few days of attention can rectify."

There was no denying it: even the wealthy could be frugal.

This stern, merciless businessman—renowned for his ruthless negotiations—was now attempting to economize by washing my clothes? I half-expected that if I allowed it, he'd terminate my employment and blacklist me from the industry as retribution for my "care."

Thankfully, I decided to clarify things. Surely, now that everything was out in the open, Howard wouldn't renege on his word, right?

While I was mulling over these thoughts, a male nurse entered to replace the bandages on my back.

But Howard seized the tray and dismissed the nurse.

"Recline. Remove it," he stated bluntly.

I gaped at him, bewildered.

Each word made sense on its own, but together? Not quite.

"What on earth, Miser? What are you attempting?"

Oops. My inner monologue escaped.

His face turned crimson—actually crimson—all the way to his ears. It was the first time I'd seen him appear flustered.

"I'll locate a female nurse," he mumbled before practically sprinting to the nurses' station.

Indeed, he returned with a female nurse to handle it, but for the next few days, he persisted in looking after me with meticulous attention.

On my discharge day, he insisted on chauffeuring me home. As I mentally rehearsed how to request proper compensation, the vehicle halted before an unfamiliar villa.

"Boss, this isn't my residence," I said, puzzled.

"I'm aware. Your house is undergoing renovation after the damage," he replied matter-of-factly.

Renovated? This was news to me.

Before I could object, he was already unloading my baggage and carrying it inside.

The villa was immense, yet eerily devoid of staff. After giving me a tour, Howard headed to the kitchen to prepare a meal.

Having missed work for five days, I felt remorseful about my absence. After quickly consuming the food he prepared, I compelled myself to catch up on a project for my boss.

When I finally presented him with the proposal, he frowned deeply as he perused it.

"Are you attempting to compose a novel?" he asked, his tone exasperated.

I clenched my fists, silently fuming.

"Come here. I won't harm you," he added when he saw me take two cautious steps backward.

As I stood immobilized, he massaged his temples with an air of resigned patience.