When She Ended It With Divorce (Chiara and Titus) novel Chapter 24

Chapter 24

A man dressed in a crisp white lab coat, his gold-rimmed glasses glinting softly under the hospital lights, watched the heated exchange between Chiara and Titus with quiet curiosity.

Chiara was taken aback to realize they weren’t alone. Her lips pressed into a thin line as she glanced upward, meeting the gaze of the newcomer.

“Hello, Chiara,” the man greeted her warmly, a friendly smile playing on his lips.

There was something oddly familiar about his face, a vague sense of recognition swirling in her mind, though she couldn’t quite place where she might have seen him before.

“I’m Yves Shaw,” he introduced himself smoothly. “Titus’s cousin. Our mothers are sisters.”

A flicker of understanding lit up Chiara’s eyes. She inclined her head politely. “I see. Nice to meet you.”

Titus, his temper already simmering from the earlier insult, was on the verge of losing control. But Yves’s unexpected presence forced him to rein in his fury, swallowing the anger that had threatened to explode.

Still, as he caught sight of Chiara’s frosty expression, something inside him softened. The blaze of rage that had consumed him moments ago began to ebb away.

Yves observed the pair, amusement sparkling in his eyes. “So, who’s the patient today?” he asked casually.

Titus was still streaked with red paint, which made him appear even more disheveled and agitated. In contrast, Chiara had changed into fresh clothes, and most of the paint had been wiped from her face, creating a striking difference between them.

“Check on her,” Titus said in a flat, clipped tone.

Noticing the faint scent of paint lingering in the air, Yves turned his professional attention to Chiara, examining her face with gentle care.

“Chiara, could you unbutton the top of your shirt, please?” he requested politely.

Having spent time in medical environments before, Chiara nodded without hesitation and began to undo the buttons. But just as she had loosened the first one, Titus’s hand shot out, gripping her wrist firmly.

His eyes narrowed darkly as he stared at Yves. “Why does she need to unbutton her shirt?” he demanded.

Yves raised an amused, slightly exasperated eyebrow. “It’s part of the examination. Otherwise, why would you be here?”

“Just examine her as she is,” Titus snapped, his voice cold and sharp.

Yves looked momentarily perplexed. The redness was so evenly spread across Chiara’s skin that no obvious injury stood out.

Chiara frowned and gently brushed Titus’s hand aside, continuing to unbutton her blouse.

Titus’s jaw clenched tightly, but he did not stop her. Instead, he watched silently as she undid four more buttons, revealing the strap and edge of her bra beneath.

“That’s enough,” Titus warned quietly, his tone low but firm.

Chiara ignored his protest, turning her attention back to Yves as though his opinion was the only one that mattered.

The darkening shadow on Titus’s face betrayed his frustration at being so openly disregarded.

Yves met Titus’s glare but resisted the urge to smile. “That’s fine, Chiara,” he said with a nod.

Leaning in for a closer look—his hands carefully kept to himself—he assessed her skin. “It’s a mild allergic reaction. A simple ointment should clear it up.”

Relief washed over Chiara’s features. The thought that the paint might have been tainted with something harmful had worried her. “Thank you,” she murmured gratefully.

Yves’s lips curved into a reassuring smile. “No problem.”

“Paul, go with Dr. Shaw to get the prescription,” Titus instructed.

Yves blinked in surprise. It seemed unusual for a senior doctor to personally fetch medication.

Paul, however, quickly grasped the situation and led Yves out of the room.

“Could you show me the way to the pharmacy, Dr. Shaw? I seem to have forgotten which floor it’s on,” Paul said, feigning forgetfulness with a playful grin.

Left alone in the treatment room, Titus and Chiara sat in a heavy silence. She remained quiet beneath his unwavering gaze.

“I’ll handle this,” Titus declared firmly.

Chiara didn’t respond, refusing even to meet his eyes.

He frowned, uncertain how to break the tension.

Suddenly, Chiara’s phone rang, slicing through the quiet. She glanced at the caller ID and answered, her voice softening instantly. “Heather…”

The warmth in her tone caught Titus off guard. It was a familiar sound—one she hadn’t used with him in what felt like an eternity.

“Yes, I’m fine,” she said. After listening for a moment, her voice grew more resolute. “The police have found them? I’m not going to settle. I want the authorities to handle this properly.”

She saw no reason to show leniency. Those girls were adults, fully responsible for their actions, and the consequences they faced weren’t even harsh.

“I’m still at the hospital, but I’ll be there soon,” Chiara assured.

Paul quickly stubbed out his cigarette in the nearby trash bin.

“Mr. and Mrs. Goodman, are you…” Paul’s greeting trailed off as he noticed their clasped hands, leaving him utterly speechless.

He had only been gone for about ten minutes—just enough time for a quick smoke break. Now he marveled at how Titus had managed to win Chiara over so completely in such a short span.

“We’re heading to the police station,” Titus announced.

Though curious about the sudden trip, Paul wisely kept his questions to himself. He’d learn more when they arrived. “Right away, Mr. Goodman.”

Yves watched them with a knowing smile. “Off already?”

Titus met his gaze briefly. “Yes.”

Yves’s eyes flicked between them with interest. “Take care.”

Chiara gave a slight nod in return but said nothing more.

Titus seemed oblivious to the subtle tension lingering in the air.

But Yves raised an eyebrow, sensing there was much more beneath the surface.

After they left, Yves pulled out his phone and dialed.

“Aunt Adele, I just saw Titus and Chiara,” he said quietly into the receiver. “Something’s off between them. She’s looking at him like he’s a stranger.”

In the car, Chiara quietly slipped her hand free and stared out the window, lost in thought.

The police station was only a short drive away—just three traffic lights down the road.

When they arrived, Titus reached for her hand again as they stepped inside.

Suddenly, a parked red BMW caught Chiara’s attention. A faint sense of recognition stirred within her.

Noticing she had stopped, Titus asked, “What are you looking at?”

This time, Chiara didn’t look away. She kept her eyes fixed on the car, waiting to see if her suspicion was right.

Titus followed her gaze, and the shadow on his face deepened immediately.