?Chapter 533:


    “Eric—I…” She pressed her bandaged hand against his chest, brows drawn together. “Let me do it myself.”


    “You?” he murmured, eyes flicking pointedly to her injured hand. “With that hand wrapped like a mummy? Or those legs that can barely keep you standing?”


    His hands moved faster, deftly removing the remaining fabric, driven by an urgency to keep her warm. Soon, her skin finally met the water’s warmth.


    “Ahh…” Hadley sucked in a sharp breath as a jolt of pain rippled through her. The fact that she couldn’t stand on her own was his fault in the first ce, wasn’t it?


    It wasn’t the cold making her legs unsteady—it was the deep, tender bruises scattered across her body, especially on her thighs, each a painful reminder of the night before.


    Eric saw them clearly beneath the water’s surface—every mark, every bruise—his doing. A heavy ache pressed against his chest.


    The doctor’s quiet warning echoed back louder than ever. When he spoke, his voice was raw with guilt, each word weighed down by remorse. “I’m sorry. This was my fault… I promise it won’t happen again.”


    If there ever was a next time, Eric wouldn’t need Ernest to step in—he’d be unable to forgive himself first.


    “Close your eyes,” he murmured gently, his voice wrapping around her like the steam filling the room. “Lean back—I’ll take care of you.”


    Hadley eyed him warily but didn’t resist. Some battles simply weren’t worth fighting. Ever since that first night at Silver Vis, Eric had always tended to her in this gentle, attentive way.


    At first, Hadley found it peculiar, almost unsettling, but soon enough, it became familiar, evenforting. Perhaps this was just Eric Flynn’s unique way of showing affection. Still, she couldn’t help but wonder—how many other women had experienced this tenderness from him?


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    After carefully washing her hair and letting her soak peacefully, Eric lifted her effortlessly, wrapped her warmly in a soft towel, and carried her back to bed. He meticulously dried her hair before finally reaching for the ointment.


    “What’s that?” Hadley asked suspiciously, pulling back slightly. “I told you, I don’t want any medicine.”


    “It isn’t something you need to swallow,” Eric said calmly, assuming her resistance was just childish stubbornness. The doctor had reassured him that fluids and rest would suffice for her fever if she remained opposed to pills. He could ept that—but this ointment was non-negotiable.


    “It’s topical. You don’t ingest it.” He held her wrist softly, his tone gently persuasive.


    “It’s for the bruises. Didn’t you just flinch from the pain?”


    Hadley hesitated. Would her continued refusal stir his suspicion? “I’m feeling a bit thirsty. Could you bring me some warm milk?”


    “Of course,” Eric answered immediately. “I’ll get it after applying the ointment—”


    “Are you going to get it or not?” Hadley interrupted sharply, her patience fraying. She still looked unwell—eyes ssy, cheeks flushed with fever—and Eric’s heart fluttered inexplicably. His pulse quickened, his mouth went dry; how could he refuse her anything?


    “All right, I’ll get it now.”


    As soon as Eric stepped out, Hadley grabbed the ointment box and scanned the instructions until she found what she was looking for—safe for pregnant women. A wave of relief washed over her. Even though she wasn’t pregnant yet, she was trying, and she couldn’t risk anything unsafe.


    When Eric returned carrying a cup of warm milk, the herby scent of ointment still lingered in the air. He offered her the cup. “Did you already apply it yourself?”


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