The Returned Heiress Who Had It All (Cassia) novel Chapter 142

Chapter 142 In Trusting Arms

The way she was clutching her stomach didn’t look like mere anemia.

“I’m fine.” Cassia forced the words out as she tried to push herself upright.

Draven’s brow immediately furrowed with concern.

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Cassia was curled on the couch, fingers digging into the fabric as she tried–and failed–to straighten herself.

He knew her stubborn nature, how she used that icy mask and sheer willpower to hide any sign of weakness from the world.

For her to let her guard down like this in front of him meant the pain had to be excruciating.

“I’m taking you to the hospital.”

“No,” she whispered. Even talking was torment, each breath scraping her raw from the inside.

Faced with such obstinate resolve, the fine lines between Draven’s eyebrows deepened into a pronounced frown.

He hadn’t looked this grave even during the most tense multinational corporate negotiations. He exhaled, lowered himself slightly, and softened his voice until it was almost a murmur. “Just listen this once. Let me take you. You’ll feel better once we’re there.”

The warm baritone brushed against her ears, gentle and coaxing, as if the sound itself carried a quiet magic. Without realizing it, her body eased just a fraction.

“Mm.” She loosened her hold on her stomach and attempted to stand on her own.

Without a word, Draven extended his arm before her. The gesture was purely practical and impeccably gentlemanly, offering support without presumption. It felt perfectly natural.

Without thinking, Cassia placed her hand on his forearm, his strength steady beneath her palm.

He gathered her into his arms in one smooth motion.

“Put your arms around my neck. We have to go downstairs.”

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9:10 Fri, Jan 16

Chapter 142 In Trusting Arms

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Cassia’s gaze drifted to the column of his throat. The top button of his dress shirt was fastened with precise formality.

He felt steady. Safe.

Her gaze lingered there for a few seconds before she finally reached up and looped her arms around his neck.

The unfamiliar proximity warmed her cars, a subtle shade of pink blooming at her skin.

At the top of the stairs, Draven paused.

Considering the fierce pride he knew she possessed, he carefully draped his suit jacket over her head, shielding her face.

Only once she was concealed did he continue his deliberate descent.

“Mr. Grey, the cameras-” Seven dashed out of the monitoring room, only to freeze mid- sentence. His eyes widened as Draven carried a girl downstairs as if she were something precious.

Nicole was also staring, eyes wide.

The girl’s face was hidden by the jacket, but the silhouette was unmistakably Cassia’s.

What on earth happened to make her allow someone to carry her?

Oh my

God?!

In Nicole’s mind, Cassia was the type of woman who could princess–carry a man without breaking a sweat.

Yet here she was, carried by a man with her arms hooked around his neck.

Sure, the guy was unfairly handsome, but Cassia, where’s your usual aloof dignity?

Draven’s eyes flicked to the stunned Seven. His voice was low, leaving no room for discussion. “Get the car. We’re going to the hospital.”

One simple command, and both Seven and Nicole understood instantly–Cassia was in real pain.

At the hospital, Cassia’s team of specialists flew in from various regions to perform her

surgery.

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9:10 Fri, Jan 16

Chapter 142 In Trusting Arms

After the appendectomy, she was settled into a VIP room.

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Draven arrived later, carrying a box of mushroom soup personally prepared by the chef of Atelier Zrario.

He found her standing by the window. Her face, always possessing a fine, porcelain pallor, now looked almost translucent in the sunlight.

The oversized hospital gown hung from her slender frame, making her appear heartbreakingly fragile.

He watched her for a moment, then unconsciously took a step toward her. Then another. Drawn to her like gravity.

Cassia, lost in her dazed thoughts and still foggy from the anesthesia, didn’t notice him until she heard movement.

She turned slightly, lifting her gaze.

Clear eyes, long lashes, a thin frown between her brows–a quiet strength buried within her exhaustion.

Draven’s half–lidded eyes held her reflection, absorbing every subtle shift in her expression.

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