Chapter 67

The moment Adrian noticed Vivian's feverish state, his jaw tightened. Ethan hovered nearby, concern etching his features. "Mrs. Blackwood seems quite unwell. Shouldn't we call an ambulance?"

At the mention of medical help, Vivian's fingers curled into Adrian's tailored jacket with surprising strength. "No hospitals," she rasped, her voice barely audible yet laced with panic.

Adrian's gaze darkened as he considered their options. "Contact Dr. Harrison for a house call," he instructed curtly. "Wait downstairs."

Without another word, he carried Vivian up the sweeping staircase to their shared bedroom. The mansion stood eerily silent, the staff having retired for the evening. His eyes dropped to her soaked dress clinging to her trembling form.

Moving with uncharacteristic gentleness, Adrian pulled the silk duvet back and laid her down. The unfamiliar act of caregiving made his movements awkward. He raked a hand through his hair, clearly out of his depth.

Storming to the walk-in closet, Adrian selected a set of satin pajamas. When he returned, Vivian's glassy eyes fluttered open. The room spun in her fevered vision, but she'd recognize these four walls anywhere.

As Adrian approached with the sleepwear, she blinked slowly. This couldn't be real. The Adrian Blackwood showing concern? Her delirious mind must be playing tricks.

When he began helping her change, her body stiffened instinctively. The memory of their tense car ride still fresh. Noticing her hesitation, Adrian exhaled sharply. "You'll catch pneumonia in these wet clothes. Change."

"Fine," Vivian murmured, too exhausted to argue with her hallucination. Her fingers fumbled with the buttons.

Adrian turned his back abruptly, his shoulders rigid. That familiar distance - even in her dreams, he maintained it. Their entire marriage flashed before her eyes - every cold interaction, every transaction disguised as affection.

She changed quickly and burrowed beneath the covers. The Egyptian cotton sheets caressed her overheated skin, a luxury she'd never take for granted. Sleep claimed her almost instantly.

Adrian lingered in the doorway, watching the steady rise and fall of her chest. His gaze dropped to the discarded dress pooling on the floor.

"What the hell am I doing?" he muttered to the empty room.

Morning light filtered through the curtains when Vivian awoke. Her head pounded as she took in the lavish bedroom. Fragments of last night surfaced - Adrian's unexpected tenderness. She pressed her palms to her temples.

"Two years of marriage and I'm still dreaming up fairy tales," she whispered bitterly.

A knock interrupted her thoughts. Before she could respond, the door swung open. A stern-faced woman in a crisp uniform entered bearing a breakfast tray.

"Who are you?" Vivian croaked, pushing herself upright.

The stranger set the tray down with practiced efficiency. "Mrs. Harrington, the new housekeeper. Mr. Blackwood insisted you eat before taking your medication."

Vivian's breath caught. So it hadn't been a dream after all.