His Wicked Obsession (Archer and Virginia) novel Chapter 411

Back then, her movements had been excruciatingly careful, her breathing light, as if terrified of hurting him.

The scent of white tea clinging to her, mixed with the sharp tang of iodine, had inexplicably soothed his burning stomach.

Finally, she had smoothed a band-aid over the back of his hand—a bright pink one printed with little strawberries.

He had frowned at the time, disgusted by the childish design, but she simply lowered her thick lashes and spoke in a soft whisper.

"This is all we have in the house. Make do for now, and I'll buy new ones tomorrow."

Thinking back on it now, Virginia Caldwell always seemed to carry a certain cautious eagerness to please whenever she faced him.

Archer Vanderbilt leaned back against his chair and closed his eyes.

The memory of their very first meeting suddenly surfaced, crystallizing in his mind.

Six years ago, in the back gardens of the Caldwell Estate, he had been sitting under a patio umbrella scrolling through emails. When he looked up, he saw a girl standing at the top of the stairs, wearing a simple, elegant white dress, her long hair tied back, her face entirely bare of makeup.

She was stunning, her features so flawlessly sculpted it bordered on the surreal.

Yet she wore no jewelry, radiating an aura of pure, untouched simplicity.

Later that day, Virginia had sat across from Archer, her hands folded primly in her lap, her back ramrod straight, looking incredibly tense.

He hadn't seen a single trace of the spoiled arrogance typical of wealthy heiresses, only a well-mannered young woman who spoke with quiet grace.

Archer hadn't been entirely unaffected that day.

When they first got married, Archer kept his promise. Whenever he got off work on time, he would detour to a famous old bakery on the Southside, or make a special trip to a florist or jeweler, bringing back little trinkets just for her.

Sometimes it was a slice of matcha mousse, sometimes a bouquet of dewy roses, and other times a delicate piece of jewelry.

He didn't care for sweet things himself, but he vividly remembered the flash of genuine shock and delight in Virginia's usually calm, clear eyes whenever she received them.

She seemed entirely unaccustomed to receiving kindness. Every time she accepted those small gifts, she would subconsciously press her lips together and whisper a soft "thank you."

And then, over the next few days, she would repay Archer tenfold in her own quiet ways.

She would personally organize his wardrobe to perfection, hanging his shirts by color and fabric, meticulously matching his ties.

Back then, Archer had just taken over the Vanderbilt Group and had to attend endless business dinners, leaving him with stomach issues. After that, without fail, a perfectly warm bowl of soothing oatmeal would appear on the breakfast table every single morning.