His Wicked Obsession (Archer and Virginia) novel Chapter 387

A few minutes earlier.

Helena lay in the hospital bed, using a compact mirror to examine every angle of her face. Once she confirmed her foundation was evenly applied and her complexion looked suitably pale and sickly, she let out a sigh of relief and settled back against the pillows.

Archer stood by the window with one hand in his pocket. He wore a fitted dark bespoke shirt and matching trousers, the crisp lines highlighting his tall, commanding frame and long legs.

Hearing the noise, he turned his head. The moment his eyes landed on Virginia, a complicated glint flashed through his dark gaze.

"Aunt Helena, what happened?"

Entirely unaware of the setup, genuine concern filled Virginia's eyes at the sight of Helena looking so frail.

Helena reached out and took her hand.

"Virginia, my health is failing me more and more each day."

"The doctor said my heart is failing from stress. My biggest regret in life is not getting to hold a grandchild from you and Archer. If I pass away one day, I won't even have an heir by my side..."

Her voice hitched slightly, laced with emotion.

Virginia frowned and shot a glance up at Archer.

A flicker of unease quickly crossed the man's face. Pressing his lips together, he said hoarsely, "Virginia, could you just grant her this wish, seeing as she's sick?"

Virginia smoothly pulled her hand back and leaned over to tuck the blanket around Helena.

"Aunt Helena, don't let your imagination run wild," she replied in an even tone. "Medicine has come a long way. My colleague knows some top specialists. I'll make some inquiries for you."

Did they forget she was a psychologist? If there was one thing she excelled at, it was analyzing micro-expressions...

Helena froze, almost breaking character at Virginia's utter calm.

She just wanted to hold a grandchild—why was it so difficult?

Archer, feeling acutely embarrassed, looked away. Moments later, he grabbed his coat and left the room, not casting another glance at Virginia the entire time.

Watching this unfold, Helena opened her mouth to say something, but no words came out.

Her long hair cascaded freely behind her, the soft fabric clinging to her curves. The stark contrast between her raven-dark hair and her flawless, pale face and neck was striking.

Hearing his footsteps, she briefly looked up before returning her focus to the journal in her hands.

Archer seemed displeased by her indifferent reaction. He walked over to the bed, planted one knee on the mattress, and braced his arms on either side of her, towering over her.

"You've been drinking." Virginia frowned, closing her journal and setting it aside. She reached up and pushed against his chest.

She didn't mind him drinking, but the overwhelming stench of alcohol gave her a headache.

Suddenly, a scorching-hot hand clamped down on her wrist.

He leaned in close. His warm breath, heavy with the scent of liquor and his signature Oud & Bergamot, washed over her face.

He stared into her clear, almost ruthless eyes, the raw, repressed emotions inside him finally reaching a breaking point.

"Virginia," he gritted out, his voice slipping through clenched teeth. "Deep down... have you never actually forgiven me?"