I Walked Away And He Lost His Mind (Zephyra) novel Chapter 138

Gordon didn’t dare argue. “Yes, Mr. Lancaster. I’ll contact Lucid Works right away.”

Steven then turned to Verna, his voice soft with a concern I had never seen him show anyone else. “You should go back to the university. Have Gordon drive you. I’ll be here for a while, so call me if you need anything. If I don’t answer, call Professor Malone. Don’t go anywhere alone. We need to avoid what happened yesterday. Carry some pepper spray with you, just in case.”

Verna looked into his dark eyes and smiled. “Okay, I will. Thank you, Mr. Lancaster. It’s daytime now, so there are more people around. I’ll be fine on my own. No need to trouble Gordon. I’ll see you later.”

Steven didn’t insist. Gordon saw her out. Steven coughed violently again as he stood up to go to Gordon’s room.

“Steven,” I called out. “You haven’t eaten.” The bowl of porridge Verna had made for him was still full.

His expression was flat as he glanced at me. “You want to take care of me?”

I shook my head. “I’m here to work.”

“Then shut up.”

“But I want to go home as soon as possible. So, I’ll take care of you.” Taking care of him because I wanted to and taking care of him because I had to were two very different things.

His expression remained impassive, but his eyes suddenly darkened, as if a cup of ink had been spilled into them. He let out a cold laugh but said nothing and went into the room. I wasn’t surprised. A man as proud as Steven wouldn’t take kindly to my earlier rejection.

I glanced at the untouched bowl of porridge. It was too oily. Steven was a picky eater, especially when he was sick. I went to the hotel kitchen and borrowed a pot to make him a new batch of porridge. I cooked it until it was thick and creamy, then topped it with minced beef stir-fried with pickled vegetables and a generous sprinkle of cilantro, his favorite.

Steven looked at me, his eyes cold. “So eager to help now. Where was this concern last night?”

“You didn’t say last night that you wouldn’t go home until you were better. Are you going to eat or not?”

He sneered, his eyes filled with a chilling frost. “No. What are you going to do about it?”

The bastard. He was doing this on purpose, knowing I needed him to get well. My own expression turned cold. My patience had worn thin since my rebirth. “Fine, don’t eat. A grown man acting like a child. Maybe you should just die from this illness. Then I’ll be a widow, single and free, and I’ll inherit all your money.”

“I won’t burn a single dollar for you. I’ll go on a spending spree, hire a hundred boy toys to dance on your grave, and celebrate. I’ll make sure you’re so angry you die a second time—”