Chapter 176: Just Think of Me as a Scoundrel

Sharing the same apartment building was already a stretch of coincidence. But living on the same floor, in the same unit, as Lucas Zeller? That was just too much. Why hadn't Sarah mentioned that their neighbor was him—the very man Claire Grace had been trying so hard to avoid?

"Mr. Zeller, do you know your neighbors?" Claire asked coolly as she supported most of his weight to help him up to his apartment door.

Lucas's response was accompanied by a deliberately weak smile. "Miss, can we discuss that inside? My head's spinning, and I feel utterly drained." His arms, supposedly limp from exhaustion, looped around her neck with surprising precision. His firm chest pressed against Claire's back, barely separated by the thin fabric of her light blue tank top.

She rolled her eyes. "You were full of energy chatting in the car just now, and now you're suddenly dizzy? Really? And didn't you just say you were too weak to move? Then where did you find the strength to cling to me like this?"

Lucas sighed, feigning even more weariness. "Talking too much made me dizzier." Struggling to keep a straight face, he fumbled with his keys and handed them to her. "Miss, would you mind opening the door?"

With a grunt of effort, Claire managed to maneuver him into his bedroom and deposit him onto the bed. Yet, oddly, Lucas's hands remained clasped around her neck, refusing to let go no matter how much she pried or pulled.

"Mr. Zeller, did you glue your hands to my neck? Why won't they come off?" she muttered, glaring at him suspiciously. "Or are you just taking advantage of me? I never took you for this type of man. If it were someone else, you'd already have two black eyes."

Without opening his eyes, Lucas replied smoothly, "You asked me a question earlier. I haven't answered yet." His deep voice, coupled with the faint smile tugging at his lips, threw Claire off balance.

Her initial anger dissipated as she found herself captivated by the sparkle in his dark eyes, like constellations lighting up the night. "Ugh!" she scolded herself silently. She was supposed to curse him out, not become some lovestruck fool.

"Let me find you some fever medicine before you talk my ear off," she said sharply. "If you keep burning up like this, you might actually die."

"But what if you leave while I'm asleep?" Lucas countered, his gaze steady and oddly vulnerable.

"Leave? Where would I even go? Not like I'd go far..." She trailed off, realizing she had no reason to explain herself. He didn't even recognize her! Men like him deserved to—no, wishing someone's fever would get worse wasn't very charitable. "You're already dehydrated from this fever, and now you're wasting energy talking nonsense. You'd better drink something before you end up in serious trouble."

"With you here, I'm not worried," Lucas murmured with quiet confidence.

Claire turned away, startled by his unshakable tone. "I'm just a stranger. Why are you so sure of me?" she asked, avoiding his piercing gaze.

"Didn't I say before? You remind me of my wife. You—"

"Shut up! Who's your wife?" Claire snapped, glaring at him. "Let go of me!"

Lucas weakly shook his head, grimacing as the motion made him dizzier.

"Let go, or I'll grab something and knock you out!" she threatened.

"Go ahead. It doesn't matter. Whether you knock me out or not, at least I won't feel the pain of you leaving." His words carried an unmistakable double meaning, and Claire couldn't help but marvel at how convincingly he played the role of a helpless patient.

"You... You're such a scoundrel!" she fumed.

"Think of me as a scoundrel, then. I don't mind." Lucas's voice softened as he added, "But this time, I think I really..." Before he could finish, his hands slackened, and he fell unconscious.

Panic surged through Claire as she slapped his cheeks lightly. "Hey! Wake up! Lucas—Lucas Zeller!" Her heart raced as she called his name. "Lucas, come on! Open your eyes!"

---

Later that night, Claire stood by the door, handing an envelope of cash to Dr. Lee. "Here's the payment for the medical bill."

"Miss Grace, this is too much," Dr. Lee said, returning the excess money.

"It's not extra. Consider it a fee for coming out so late. I'm truly sorry for disturbing you in the middle of the night," Claire replied sincerely.

Dr. Lee finally relented with a smile. "You're very thoughtful. Your husband's condition was indeed dangerous. It's remarkable he reached such a high fever threshold without seeking medical help. Fortunately, you administered fever reducers and helped him cool down physically in time. Otherwise, the outcome could have been severe. Make sure he drinks plenty of warm water with a pinch of salt to replenish fluids and encourage him to rest for a few days. His body is quite weak, and another fever could lead to serious complications."

"I'll take care of it," Claire promised, showing the doctor out.

Returning to Lucas's apartment, she lingered by his bedside, watching his closed eyes and steady breathing. Even after a year apart, he was as captivating as ever. His features, more defined and mature than before, still had the power to stir her heart in ways she didn't want to admit.

After signing with a new agency, Claire had resolved to leave the pain of Lucas behind. Yet no matter how hard she tried, his presence lingered in her heart, refusing to fade.

"You like staring at me so much, why not take off your sunglasses?" His voice, hoarse but teasing, broke her reverie.

Startled, Claire jumped back, realizing his hand had already reached for her glasses. "Hey! Lucas Zeller, keep your hands to yourself!" she protested, dodging his grasp.

She struggled against him, marveling at his strength despite his weakened state. "Are you Popeye or something? How can someone running a fever still be so strong?"

"Because I know I can't let go again," Lucas blurted, his voice raw with emotion.

For a moment, neither of them spoke, both startled by the intensity of his words.