It Doesn’t Matter Anymore novel Chapter 3

Chapter 3

After she left the law firm, the sky broke into a heavy downpour.

Allison had no umbrella, and by the time she made it back to the compound, she was soaked to the bone.

The moment she stepped through the front door, a wave of dizziness overwhelmed her, and she collapsed in the foyer.

She drifted in and out of a high fever for a full day and night.

Her dreams were haunted by every slight she had endured over the last three years.

She remembered her birthday, when Greyson had promised her dinner, only to vanish the moment Sylvia called, claiming she was terrified because of a power outage at her place.

She remembered her emergency appendectomy, when he had claimed to be away on a training exercise. In reality, the exercise had ended days earlier, she had only found out when Sylvia posted photos on Instagram of Greyson accompanying her on a weekend getaway.

When she finally woke, her throat was so parched it felt as though it were on fire.

Greyson sat in the chair beside the bed, scrolling through his phone. When he noticed she was awake, he slid it away and spoke in that familiar, lecturing tone of his. “Finally awake? Honestly, Allison, how old are you? You didn’t take a taxi after your appointment and insisted on walking home in a downpour. Who is this guilt trip for?”

Allison stared at the ceiling, her voice raspy. “I want some water.”

Greyson poured a glass and handed it to her. Seeing how pale she looked, his voice lost some of its edge. “I’ve already reprimanded the guard for not keeping a better eye on you. Stop sulking. Sylvia can’t be left alone right now, she’s still shaken up.”

After finishing the water, Allison set the glass on the nightstand. “Colonel Debeaux, this is our home. If you’re so worried about Sylvia, go stay at her place. You don’t need to look after me here. I don’t want you to.”

“Allison!” Greyson’s brow furrowed. “Are you quite finished? I told you I would make it up to you. Next time-if there’s ever danger again, I’ll save you first. Are you satisfied now?”

Allison closed her eyes.

Next time?

A person only has one life. There is no such thing as a next time.

Besides, the baby she was carrying-the child she hadn’t even had the chance to tell him about—was already gone, lost forever in the ruins.

It was precisely because he had chosen to save Sylvia first that they had missed the critical window for her own rescue.

Seeing that Allison remained silent, Greyson assumed she had given in and let out a sigh of relief.

He glanced at his watch, hesitated for a moment, then spoke, “Since your fever has broken, I have a favor to ask.”

This plate of pasta would be her final tribute to three years of humiliating devotion.

Greyson hadn’t expected her to agree so easily, and a sharp twinge of guilt pricked at him. He reached out to steady her. “You’re still weak. Maybe I should…”

“There’s no need.” Allison pulled away from his touch, stumbling unsteadily toward the kitchen.

An hour later, a steaming plate of handmade pasta was packed into a thermal container.

Greyson picked up the container and looked at Allison’s pale face, his voice holding a rare note of tenderness. “Thanks. Once you’re feeling better, I’ll take you down to Hawaii to relax.”

Allison leaned against the counter, peeling an apple with a sharp paring knife, never once looking up. “You should get going. She won’t want it if the pasta gets soggy.”

Greyson left.

Allison stared at the closed front door for a long moment. The knife in her hand slipped, the blade slicing into her fingertip.

A bead of blood welled up, but she felt no pain.

She took out her phone and dialed the number she had memorized long ago.

“Hello, Mr. Langely? I’m calling about our appointment.”