The Ex-Wife He Can’t Have novel Chapter 349

Though Jillian hadn't suffered any severe physical injuries, the trauma of the kidnapping had left her deeply shaken, not to mention a horribly sprained ankle.

Daniel insisted she stay home and rest while he personally handled all the liaising with the police.

"They already picked up the guys who ran off," he told her over the phone. "The police are wrapping up the interrogation. We'll have answers soon."

He continued.

She nodded on her end. "I've never even seen those men in my life. They had no reason to target me."

"That's exactly what the police are thinking. They're certain there's a mastermind pulling the strings."

"By the way, aren't you scheduled for a follow-up at the hospital today?" he asked.

"Yeah. How did you know?"

"I memorized the date during your last visit. I figured you'd probably forget."

"My memory isn't that far gone yet," she joked.

Daniel gently helped her up from the couch.

From the kitchen, Judith and Lydia were secretly peeking out at them.

Judith moved to go help, but Lydia grabbed her arm. "What do you think you're doing?"

"We can't keep burdening Daniel like this..."

"You don't know a thing!" Lydia shot her a complicated look, refusing to let her ruin the moment.

And so, Daniel ended up taking her to the hospital entirely on his own.

He pulled up to the front entrance. Jillian pushed the rear door open, hesitating on how to get out with her bad ankle.

He grabbed a wheelchair from the trunk and unfolded it on the pavement.

He rolled it over, then smoothly slipped one arm behind her knees and the other around her waist, effortlessly lifting her into his arms.

The sudden loss of gravity made her gasp, and she instinctively gripped his lapel, hastily letting go a second later in sheer embarrassment.

"I... I can do it myself."

"You're finally starting to heal. Better safe than sorry," he smiled warmly.

He gently set her down in the seat and began wheeling her toward the main doors.

Across the street, parked in the shadows, sat a sleek black Sovereign Sedan. The tinted window was rolled down halfway, and a set of long, elegant fingers drummed rhythmically against the glass.

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