He Gave Her My Eyes A Story of Final Sight novel Chapter 100

Night crept in before Theresia realized it, the sky blanketed with stars. She ordered takeout for everyone burning the midnight oil, footing the bill herself. Once her team had eaten, she sent them home to get some rest. After that, she went back to her office to pack up her things and get ready to leave.

Stepping outside, her shadow stretched long in the moonlight. Theresia tilted her head up, letting the soft glow wash over her. The night air felt almost sacred, like it could cleanse her soul.

She was the boss, after all. If she wanted to, she could have just told her team to write the proposal, even if they hated every second. But that wasn’t what she wanted. She didn’t need something half-baked. What she wanted was for everyone to pull together and make something incredible, something they could all be proud of.

She believed that mindset and determination could decide everything. Earlier, she’d told everyone right to their faces, “We have to win Kingsport. There’s only one ending I’ll accept.”

On the way back to her hotel, the sky suddenly broke open and rain poured down. Theresia parked and tried to shield herself with her bag as she dashed for the entrance. It didn’t help much. She was soaked by the time she got inside.

She swiped her keycard and stepped into her room. The cold air from the AC hit her wet clothes, sending a chill through her. She shuddered and rushed to take a hot shower, hoping to warm herself up. Ever since the car accident three years ago, her health hadn’t been the same. The smallest thing could knock her down.

Even with all her precautions, she still got sick. Fever hit her hard in the middle of the night, leaving her weak and dizzy.

Barely awake, she fumbled for her phone and called the front desk, asking for some fever medicine. She waited. And waited. No one came.

Seriously? How long did it take to bring up some medicine? Was hotel service always this terrible?

Being sick made everything feel harder. Wrapped up in the covers, her skin burning but her body still trembling, she started to remember lying on that freezing operating table three months ago, cold instruments cutting into her. The memory chilled her to the bone.

Before she could react, he stepped in, bent down, and scooped her into his arms.

Her feet left the floor. Before she could process what was happening, he was already laying her gently back on the bed. He pulled the white comforter up around her and shook his head, his voice low and serious. “Why do you keep walking around barefoot? Maybe you should just ditch your shoes.”

She’d done it before, walking barefoot outside the restaurant, and now again tonight. Some habits just stuck.

He muttered something under his breath, but she didn’t catch it. She couldn’t focus on anything except his face.

“Garry,” she managed, her voice barely above a whisper, “what are you doing here?”