"A tumour?" Isa blinked, lips parting in shock. Slowly, she turned toward the man lying on the bed—Chris Adler. His skin was pale, drained of colour. His chest rose and fell in shallow, slow breaths. He looked peaceful… but completely worn out.
Isa's eyes shimmered with unshed tears. This couldn't be the same man who terrified everyone at work—the one known for his stone-cold expression and impossible standards. Now, he looked… fragile. Vulnerable. Human.
No one would have guessed he'd been carrying this kind of pain.
"He needs surgery as soon as possible, Miss Isabella," said the brown-haired doctor, urgency tightening her voice. "The tumour is life-threatening and could cause permanent damage."
Isa exhaled sharply. "But I think Mr Adler already knew. I saw some medication in his cabinet. So… I wonder why he hasn't gone for surgery yet."
She rubbed her temple, confused.
Turning to the young doctor, Isa felt a chill crawl up her spine—like she'd just seen a corpse.
"Are… are you saying he refused surgery?" Her voice trembled. "Like… on purpose?"
The doctor nodded. "It seems that way. I'm starting to think he doesn't want it." She shrugged slightly. "Maybe... he has a death wish."
Isa shivered. Her gaze shifted back to Chris. A strange, icy dread twisted in her stomach.
She stared at his pale face, then at the white blanket tucked under his chin. Suddenly, a vivid image flashed in her mind—Chris, cold and lifeless, that same blanket pulled over his head. The vision felt so real she could almost smell death in the air.
Arms crossed over her chest, Isa tried to chase away the chill. Her thoughts dragged her back to her father's funeral—his pale, powdered face resting in a white casket, the thick scent of perfume clinging to the room.
Her stomach clenched.
She'd hated funerals ever since. She couldn't stand the word death. The thought of never hearing someone's voice again, never seeing them smile or look your way… it paralysed her.
She let out a shaky breath as the doctor placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, giving it a light squeeze.
"You can convince him to have surgery," she paused. "But if he doesn't want to…" Her voice lowered. "No one can change his mind."
Isa swallowed hard and gave a stiff nod.
"Thank you, Dr Stanley," she bowed slightly as she walked the doctor to the sitting room.
"My pleasure." Dr Stanley smiled, grabbing her handbag and medical box.
"I—" Isa began, but the front door creaked open behind her.
A tall, chocolate-skinned man stepped inside.
"Oh! Dr Alex?" Stanley's eyes lit up. "Don't tell me you're the personal doctor we called?"
Alex smiled and shook her hand. "Good to see you again, Dr Stanley."
"It's been a while," she replied with a nod. "I was just about to leave. You can take it from here."
"Thanks for your help."
Dr Stanley chuckled and waved at Isa, who returned the smile as the woman left.
As Alex turned his attention to her, his brow furrowed briefly. A strange current ran through him—just for a moment. But when Isa looked up, his expression had already smoothed over, unreadable.
Isa forced a smile. "It's good you're here, Dr Alex."
"You must be Chris' assistant?" he raised an eyebrow.
Isa nodded. "Yes."
"I'm sorry for the inconvenience." He set his medical box on the table. His fingers trembled slightly before he laced them together.
"It's okay." Isa cleared her throat. "Dr Alex… Do you know why he's refusing surgery?"
Alex sighed and met her gaze. "I don't know either, Miss Isabella." He sat on the armrest of a nearby chair, folding his arms. His eyes drifted toward the bookshelf.
"Chris is… closed off. He doesn't let people in. Not even me."
He looked back at her. "I only know his uncle. He once asked me to keep an eye on him. But Chris doesn't allow anyone into his space."
A faint smirk tugged at Alex's lips. "I wonder what his face would look like if he saw you in his house."
Isa frowned. "You mean… he doesn't let anyone into his house? Not even his uncle?"
"No one, Miss Isabella," Alex said firmly. "I only come when it's urgent."
"But why?" The question slipped out before she could stop it. Her curiosity outpaced her caution.
Alex shrugged and rubbed his hands over his thighs. "I told you—I don't know." He stood and picked up his medical box. "But I believe there's always a reason behind people's choices."
He gently patted her shoulder before heading toward Chris's room.
Isa's brows knit together. She hadn't even noticed Alex leave. Her thoughts had drifted—back to him. The boy with the blue eyes.
Those familiar, twin-like eyes.
She remembered the way her name had rolled off his tongue.
"Isa," his voice echoed in her mind.
But then—he'd denied it.
She could still picture the way his brows had furrowed the first time they met, the flicker of emotion in his eyes—so fleeting it felt almost imagined.
Is my mind playing tricks on me? Am I wrong about all this?
He hadn't seemed cold. Not really. Not the way everyone described him—as terrifying. It felt like he was hiding… hurting.
He was pushing people away. Deliberately. Purposefully.
Could it really be him?
Is he pretending not to remember me… or am I just imagining it all?
Her chest tightened as her eyes swept over the room.
The bookshelf stood neatly arranged, untouched. The white chairs looked freshly unwrapped. The black tiled floor gleamed so cleanly, it barely seemed walked on. She glanced toward the dining area—it was just as still.
Nothing felt lived in.
The whole house felt... hollow.
Like a graveyard.
Her heart pounded. The air felt heavy. Cold. Lonely.
"What happened to him?" she whispered, slumping into a chair.
The idea that he might be that boy—yet hiding from her—made her eyes sting with tears.
Why did he isolate himself like this?
Maya's words echoed in her head:
"I've been at this company a long time, and I'll tell you—none of his PAs ever lasted more than two weeks."
Did he hire her because of the tumour?
If so… why not let someone close in?
Did someone betray him?
Did he lose someone he loved?
Or… was he hiding from something he did?
She blew out a breath, her shoulders sagging under the weight of her thoughts.
"You can convince him to have surgery," Dr Stanley's voice echoed again.
Isa nodded faintly. "Maybe."
But one thing was clear:
Whatever he's doing to himself… he doesn't deserve it.