Cold Husband Out, Secret Mogul In

[Countdown to Erik's birthday: 7 days]

Alison Reese's phone screen lit up with a push notification. She was holding a big gift box and pacing around the apartment, trying to find a good hiding place.

The box held a custom birthday gift she'd ordered two months in advance. She wanted to give her husband, Erik Hale, a surprise.

She got down on the floor, leaned over, and peered under the bed in the master bedroom. In the corner lay a white capsule.

Alison reached under the bed and pulled it out, setting it in her palm. It was smaller than a regular cold medicine capsule, smooth-shelled, and unmarked.

She kept turning it over in her palm. She'd never seen anything like it.

Taking out her phone, she snapped a photo of the capsule and opened an AI image recognition app. When the result popped up, she froze.

"Vaginal spermicidal suppository. Contains spermicide. Can be used in place of condoms."

Alison stared blankly at the words on the screen. Her mind went completely empty.

She had never bought anything like that. In their two years of marriage, she and Erik hadn't ever slept together. He was either buried in work or away on business trips. Even when he came home, he always acted exhausted and never laid a hand on her.

Alison clenched the spermicide in her fist and spaced out for a long time, unable to even process her thoughts. Then, her phone's ringtone suddenly erupted loudly, yanking her back to reality.

Her aunt, Jane Swanson, was sobbing on the other end. "Ally, come to the hospital right now! Your Uncle Malcolm collapsed. The doctor said they have to rush him into the ER!"

…

Outside the operating room at Anwell Hospital, a hospital owned by Hale Corporation, a nurse's voice rang out from the end of the corridor, sharp and urgent.

"Family of Malcolm Reese! Is Malcolm Reese's family here?"

Alison ran over. "Here! I'm here."

"The patient has pancreatic cancer. His condition is critical, and he needs immediate surgery." The nurse handed her a form. "This is the surgical consent form. A family member needs to sign."

Alison's ears rang. As a medical student, she knew very well that pancreatic cancer was the king of cancers. There were no early symptoms, and by the time most patients were diagnosed, it was already late-stage.

When she was 12 years old, her parents had died in an accident. Back then, it had also come down to a single sheet of paper. She'd been so young and devastated back then that she could barely write her own name.

It was Malcolm who had signed the form for her. After signing, he'd picked her up and said, "Don't be scared, Ally. I've got you."

Now, Alison tried several times to sign her name, but her hands were shaking so badly she couldn't get the pen under control.

She pulled out her phone and scrolled to Erik's number. The call rang for a long time before he finally picked up.

"What is it?" he asked flatly, like she had no business bothering him.

In the background, she could hear loud chatter, music, and… fireworks?

She heard the heavy, muffled booming sounds, one burst after another.

"Uncle Malcom is in the ER. They said it's pancreatic cancer. Can you come? I'm here by myself—"

"I'm out of town on business." He uttered those words, his tone crisp and final. "Ask your cousin to go."

"Noah isn't in Hollibrook. He—"

"Then handle it yourself." Erik's tone turned impatient. "I can't get away right now."

The call cut off, the silence unusually loud in Alison's ear. She stood in the hallway, gripping her phone. In the nearby waiting area, someone had turned on the TV. The news was on.

"…Ravenport's Centennial Fireworks Gala is lighting up the night sky over Harris Harbor…"

Alison looked up. On the screen, fireworks burst over a glittering harbor. The camera swept across an observation deck packed with people.

Suddenly, the camera zoomed in. A man and a woman stood at the railing, shoulder to shoulder, heads tilted up to watch the fireworks. The man wore a dark gray overcoat, his profile sharp and handsome. It was Erik, her husband, and the woman beside him was Monique Shore, his first love.

So, the "business" he'd mentioned was actually a getaway with Monique to watch fireworks by the harbor.

Alison stared at the screen, motionless.

Erik had his arm around another woman. They stood together under the fireworks, in front of the whole world.

"Miss, we need your signature!" The nurse came back out.

Alison lowered her eyes to the consent form. Her hand was still trembling.

She grabbed her right wrist with her left hand, forcing her fingers to steady, and dragged out the final stroke of her name. The letters were crooked but still legible.

…

Three days later, Alison sat in the office of Malcolm's attending physician, Stanley Lowell.

"Mr. Reese's condition is complicated. The standard treatment protocols we have here won't work very well for him," Stanley said.

After a pause, he continued, "Alvonia approved a new drug last year, and the clinical data looks very promising. I heard even their president is on it. You'll need serious connections to get it, though."

Halfway through his explanation, Alison's hands balled into fists.

Stanley's tone became a touch more respectful. "Mrs. Hale, given your situation, I assume Mr. Hale can pull some strings to get the drug."

Her cousin, Noah Reese, who was sitting beside her, frowned slightly.

Alison nodded. Her voice was barely above a whisper as she said, "Yes. I'll talk to him."

"Great, great. With Mr. Hale stepping in, I'm sure everything will work out."

Alison and Noah stepped out into the hallway. The office door swung shut behind them, but not all the way.

From the gap, they heard Stanley's assistant's hushed voice. "Dr. Lowell, what did you just call her?"

"You don't know who she is?" Stanley lowered his voice. "That's Mrs. Hale, the eldest daughter-in-law of the Hale family. She's Mr. Erik Hale's wife."

"Oh? She looks so young. But why is her uncle in a regular ward?"

"Hush!" Stanley silenced him. "Don't stick your nose into rich people's business."

Noah stopped walking and caught Alison by the arm. "Ally, I don't want you begging him for anything."

She smiled. "Noah, begging is an exaggeration. He's my husband."

He studied her face.

"Go keep Uncle Malcolm company first," she said. "I'll make a call."

Alison walked toward the open atrium on the second floor, planning to call Erik. She had just taken out her phone when she froze.

From where she stood, she could see straight down to the entrance of the inpatient building. A black Bentley had just pulled up.

Several hospital executives in suits were waiting at the door. One of them rushed forward to open the car door.

A man and a woman stepped out. The man was strikingly handsome, with the refined, polished look of a movie star. The woman's beauty was vivid and luminous, but there was a faint, sickly pallor to her that made her look all the more delicate.

Erik carefully helped the frail-looking Monique out of the car and led her quickly through the lobby to the elevator. The elevator stopped at the VIP ward floor.

Alison took another elevator and pressed the button for the same floor. The numbers ticked up, one by one.

The VIP ward floor was quiet. Thick carpeting swallowed the sound of footsteps.

One room stood with its door slightly ajar. Voices drifted out. Through the crack, Alison saw Erik moving around the bed, fussing over every little detail, all his usual cold detachment gone.

Monique leaned against the headboard and chided softly, "Erik, it's just a bit of a cold and a fever. You don't have to make such a big deal out of it."

"When was your last full checkup?" Erik asked. "Since you're here, you should get a complete workup. I'll stay with you."

She lowered her eyes, the corners of her lips lifting in a shy smile.

He picked up a cup of milk tea with a straw already inserted and handed it to her. "I had them warm it up. It's not hot."

Alison suddenly remembered the one time she had finally talked Erik into going shopping with her. She'd mentioned wanting milk tea, and he'd given her a look of pure contempt. He had scoffed and asked, "How old are you? You still drink that kid stuff?"

Inside the room, Erik walked over to a narrow cot in the corner and pressed down on it with his palm to test it. He asked, "Is this the sleeper chair? I'll sleep here tonight."

"You shouldn't stay the night…" Monique murmured. "She won't like it."

"I told her I'm out of town on business tonight."

Alison's phone suddenly buzzed in her hand. She glanced down and realized that at some point, her finger had accidentally hit the call button.

Erik's phone started ringing. He pulled it out, glanced at the screen, then declined the call.

"Was that her?" Monique asked softly. "You should go home."

"What could she possibly need me for?" He slid his phone back into his pocket. "She's just a kid craving attention."

"A kid?" Monique repeated.

"My grandmother forced her on me. She doesn't know anything. I have nothing to talk about with her," he said dismissively.

Feeling numb, Alison turned and walked away.