Ophelia Gets Thrown Out (Ophelia) novel Chapter 72

Chapter 72

There was a weighted pause before Ryan’s voice returned, strained with helplessness. “Mr. Caldwell is at the office with no doctor around, and he refuses to go to the hospital. I didn’t know who else to call. Could you please come?”

Ophelia was furious. “How could he just check out like that?”

It seemed to her that Alaric had absolutely no regard for his own well-being.

Ryan stayed quiet. He knew better than to question Alaric’s decisions.

Ophelia took a deep breath, forcing down her anger.

“Ill be right there, she said before hanging up.

*Ophelia… Victoria began, but her daughter cut in, “Mom, I need to go check on Alaric. He’s running a fever.”

“Alaric has a fever? Of course, go. Just drive safely, Victoria replied, her tone laced with concern.

Though she hadn’t caught all the details, she could tell from Ophelia’s voice that the situation was urgent.

With a quick nod, Ophelia grabbed her things from her room and hurried out of Rowle Villa.

Adrian shot his wife a meaningful look as the door closed. “Ophelia told us they were just friends, but does that look like just friends to you?”

If they were really nothing more than ordinary friends, she wouldn’t have rushed off like that the moment she heard he’d left the hospital.

Victoria suppressed a smile. ‘Well… I’d say it doesn’t look that way to me.”

The couple exchanged a knowing glance, both quietly amused and on the same page.

In the CEO’s office of the Caldwell Group, Ophelia found Alaric hunched over paperwork the moment she stepped inside.

His head was slightly bowed, his expression one of intense concentration, a stark contrast to his usual careless demeanor.

Yet the pallor of his complexion betrayed his poor physical condition.

“Working through a fever. Typical,” she murmured under her breath.

“Get out,” Alaric said coldly without looking up.

“And let you work until you collapse?” she shot back, frustration edging her voice. Even ill, he managed to be abrasive.

His pen stilled mid-signature. Alaric looked up, surprise flashing in his eyes. “Ophelia?”

He had assumed it was Ryan bothering him again, urging him to go to the hospital. He never expected it to be Ophelia.

“Who else were you expecting?” There was a sharpness in her gaze that spoke of professional irritation.

As a doctor, she had little patience for stubborn patients.

‘Just didn’t expect to see you here,” he said, closing the folder and leaning back. A teasing glint appeared in his eyes. “To what do I owe this rare visit? I’m honored you’d come see me.”

‘Must you always be like this?” She moved closer, examining him with clinical detachment. “Ryan called. Said you’re running a fever but refused hospital treatment.”

A slow smile spread across Alaric’s lips. “Admit it, you’re worried about me.”

Ophelia fixed him with an icy stare, her tone clinically detached. “This is a professional visit. My consultation fees are quite substantial, just so you know.”

She had no patience for patients who disregarded their well-being. Even if he’d been injured because of her,

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Chapter 72

professional boundaries remained non-negotiable.

His expression darkened. “Sometimes I wonder what goes through that mind of yours, Ophelia,” he bit out, the words tight with frustration.

Her apparent prioritization of medical fees over his well-being struck him as particularly callous.

“Save your curiosity for matters that actually concern you,” she retorted coolly, one eyebrow arched in mild

annoyance.

Withdrawing her diagnostic instruments, Ophelia turned serious. “It’s just a fever. The wound isn’t infected. I brought you some medicine. Take it, get some rest, and don’t let this turn into something serious.

“And don’t even think about trying to blame me later if it does.”

Though his fever resulted from sheer exhaustion, she’d made this urgent house call precisely to prevent any potential manipulation of the situation.

Her strictly professional demeanor grated on Alaric’s nerves.

“Fine,” he snapped. “Leave the pills. Ryan will handle your payment.” The word ‘payment’ emerged as though dragged through clenched teeth.

Ophelia studied his petulant expression with clinical detachment. ‘After I’ve come all this way, he’s going to act like a spoiled child? How utterly juvenile, she thought.

Placing the medication firmly on his desk, she adopted her most authoritative tone. “Your temperature exceeds 38 degrees. You’ll take this medication now and go directly to rest.”

Even if he valued his health so lightly, her professional ethics wouldn’t permit her to enable his self-destructive behavior.

“You’ll get your money. The rest is none of your concern,” he countered, irritation flashing in his eyes at her persistent clinical manner.

“Really, Alaric? This childish resistance to basic medication is beneath you,” she observed, genuine puzzlement coloring her words.

Alaric studied her with a slight frown, his gaze sharpening.

‘Is she actually upset? Because I refused the medicine?’ he wondered. ‘Could it be that she’s worried about me?’ Unexpectedly, the observation lifted his spirits. Perhaps her clinical detachment wasn’t as absolute as it appeared.

His eyes narrowed, a calculating gleam flashing within them.

“I told you, I don’t need…” Alaric began, surging to his feet. But the movement was too abrupt. A wave of dizziness hit him, and he stumbled.

“Whoa, are you okay?” Ophelia’s hands shot out instinctively to steady him.

She fumed, ‘He can barely stand, and he’s still being stubborn? What is he, a child?’

As he saw the genuine worry on her face, a spark of victory flashed in Alaric’s eyes. So she did care beneath that frosty exterior.

Emboldened, he let his head drop onto her shoulder with a practiced weakness. “Suddenly feeling really lightheaded,” he murmured.

“You’re running a high fever. That tends to happen,” Ophelia replied, the sigh that escaped her carrying a hint of resignation she hadn’t intended. “Will you take the medicine now?”

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