4.Chapter 4 Parallel Lives

The dial tone buzzed in Gwyneth’s ears, sharp as a knife. She remembered when Zachary had held her after her stomach surgery, crying for ages. He’d knelt by her bed, big frame curling like a lost puppy.

“Gwennie, it hurts,” he’d croaked, his face buried in her neck. “Every second you were in that OR… it was like my heart was being torn out. Don’t you get it? You’re my entire world.”

Now, he was telling her not to use her illness as an excuse to stir up drama. But when disappointment curdled into despair, there was nothing left to lose.

Gwyneth ground her teeth through the spasms and dialed emergency services. By the time the ambulance arrived at the hospital, she was on the verge of blacking out from the pain.

A familiar voice cut through her haze. “Bella, you cold? Hold onto my neck tighter.”

Gwyneth turned with effort. Through the flurry of paramedics, she saw Zachary’s tall figure in a black shirt, striding swiftly.

Bella was bundled in a gray blanket, arms looped around his neck as she nuzzled his chin. When she whispered something, he looked down and smiled—soft, adoring. The ER chaos melted away as his focus stayed fixed on her.

Gwyneth watched as he helped Bella into the car. Then the familiar Porsche Cayenne roared to life and sped away.

*****

The cold exam table seeped through Gwyneth’s sweat-stained gown. She stared blankly during the procedure, gagging as the tube went down her throat, tears streaming down her face.

By 1:30 AM, she was wheeled into a temporary ward and put on an IV drip. The on-duty nurse was tidying the adjacent hospital bed, chatting idly about the latest gossip.

“Did you see that couple in the ER earlier?”

“Nope, but the guy was hot.”

“Hot? That’s Zachary Flynn, CEO of Flynn Group!”

“The billionaire? No way! I saw him wiping that woman’s face like she was a kid. I’m so jealous.”

“People say the wealthy are always cheating, but I think they just haven’t found true love. I heard even the hospital director was rushing around. That woman had an asthma attack she needed a ventilator, and Mr. Flynn was so devastated his eyes were red.”

“She was in PJs—must be his fiancée.”

Gwyneth slowly pulled the quilt tighter around herself, but the chill just wouldn’t leave.

A nurse finished tidying up and came to check Gwyneth’s IV, then kindly reminded her, “Miss, you should call family. Managing this alone is tough.”

Gwyneth forced a smile. “He’s swamped.”

The nurse left without another word. Hallway whispers trickled in. “Same hospital, different worlds. This one’s got a perforated ulcer, no visitors. The asthma patient had every specialist on call.”

Gwyneth shut her eyes. She slept hard that night. When she woke the next day, the sky was already bright.

She grabbed her phone, remembering the appointment. A dozen unread texts from Bella popped up on WhatsApp.

[Thanks for your cleaning spree, Ms. Jenkins. Zachary’s bed is really big and soft.]

[Your pajamas are too snug. You should eat more papayas—Zachary loves how soft my boobs are when he holds me.]

[3 AM, Ms. Jenkins. Bet you never thought I’d be the one in Zachary’s room, huh?]

[He made me healing soup himself. He hunted down the recipe for a long time—so sweet, right?”

The last message was a photo, where Zachary’s boxers crumpled on the floor, tangled with a pair of pink lace panties.

Gwyneth hated pink and would never wear clothes in that color. ‘So they hooked up right after coming back from the hospital last night? What a fast-moving couple,’ she sneered silently.

Her chest clenched again. Fighting back nausea, she screenshot the evidence. Her stomach felt hollow, but the pain had eased. When she slid off the bed, her legs trembled.

Leaning on walls for support, she dragged herself to the nurse’s station to check out. No time to rest—she had business to handle.

As soon as she settled into the taxi, Zachary called over. “Get out of the hotel. I’m sending Abel to pick you up.”

His tone was cold and matter-of-fact. He seemed to think she’d always wait like an obedient dog, no matter what he did.

Gwyneth sagged against the seat, face ash-white. “I’m not at the hotel.”

“Already out? Shopping again?” Zachary asked, a trace of annoyance in his voice. “Come home instead. You know Bella’s needs best, right? Take care of her for a day. I can’t trust the servants with this.”

Gwyneth almost laughed. She’d thought he was worried about her stomach, so he called at this hour to send Abel to take her for a hospital check-up.

As she stayed quiet, Zachary’s tone softened. “Gwennie, I know you’re mad about my attitude last night, and about me letting Bella stay in our home. But you two were like sisters. Don’t let me come between you. Use this to make up.”

Gwyneth still didn’t speak. For the first time, she realized just how shameless he could be.

Zachary continued, “You caused her ER trip. Be good, okay?”

‘Be good again!’ Gwyneth rolled her eyes and hung up.

Zachary texted soon after. [Doc says she needs bland food. I threw out the scented candles. Find and remove the rest.]

Gwyneth wanted to ask how much he still remembered from those discharge instructions he’d written down line by line after her surgery. But she held back—the answer just didn’t matter anymore.

She went to a mall near the café and bought a new outfit. In the restroom, she applied light makeup to cover her exhausted look, then arrived at the café right on time.

Fillip was waiting in the private booth. His sharp features betrayed a probing intensity. “You’re serious about selling?”

“Your ambitions are your business, Mr. Chandler.” Gwyneth dropped into the couch across from him, her gaze cold. “I have one condition: wait a week and stay away from next Monday’s shareholder meeting. Agree to that, and I’ll sign right now.”

Some bombs were best set off one by one. It wouldn’t be as satisfying if they all blew up at once.

Fillip drummed his fingers on the desk. “You and Zachary have a falling-out?”

In Galvocity’s business world, anyone who had dealt with Everprosper Group knew that Gwyneth was completely devoted to Zachary.

Gwyneth sat up slowly, her cold stare locked on Fillip. “These shares are mine. Taking back what’s mine is only fair. But if you’re trying to pump me for Everprosper Group’s secrets, consider the deal off.”

Holding starter shares didn’t mean owning the company. The real win came down to who played their cards right.

Fillip didn’t push further. He whipped out the contracts, signed them, and initiated the wire transfer.

After confirming the payment, Gwyneth got up and walked out.