Kamille’s POV

As I walked back into the hospital room, memories flooded my mind, each more bittersweet than the last. I thought back to the early days of the Reid Children's Foundation, when Zeke and I had started it. I remembered the excitement and anticipation as we worked tirelessly to gather the initial drugs and supplies for the foundation's inauguration. Despite my confusion about why the foundation had been started after our marriage, I obediently followed Zeke's lead.

But even then, a distance existed between us, a coldness in Zeke's demeanor I couldn't understand. Our arranged marriage had never been based on love, and the online rumors only deepened the divide.

Now, lying in bed, the loneliness enveloped me like a heavy blanket. Even with Zeke beside me, I'd never truly felt I belonged, that I was part of something larger. In those early days, I was practically invisible to him, a shadow as he pursued his ambitions.

I learned everything about him—his favorite foods, habits, preferences. I knew he loved Hot Cheetos while working in his study and spicy soup after drinks with friends. I even knew he always forgot his umbrella, a fact I learned after countless rescues with a spare. As a weather forecaster, I had a knack for predicting rain, sometimes sensing it in the air.

But despite anticipating his needs, I felt like an outsider, an accessory used and discarded. Even during hospital visits to his parents (who were warm and receptive), Zeke remained indifferent, his aloofness frustrating and disappointing. Posing for pictures was a chore; I felt like a punishment to him. “Move closer, Sir,” “Smile, Sir,” “Look into her eyes, Sir”—the requests were endless. Our pictures were never perfect.

I tried to connect with him, but he remained cold and distant, seemingly determined to keep me at arm's length. Sometimes I wondered if a direct expression of hatred would have been easier than the silent treatment that made me feel invisible and insignificant.

Despite the pain, I couldn't leave. My grandmother's wishes weighed heavily on me; I couldn't disappoint her. And somewhere, amidst the turmoil, I'd developed feelings for Zeke, however misguided. He was the only person I'd truly loved, and even though our marriage was flawed, I couldn't imagine life without him. So I stayed, hoping he'd see me, that we could bridge the chasm.

But thinking of my family, my children who depended on me, determination welled up. I had to bring down those who wronged me, who exploited my trust. Gabriel was next. It was time to fight back. I sighed, closed my eyes, and slept.

Zeke’s POV

"I didn't know Mr. Reid had the time to be here," Chris remarked smugly.

I clenched my jaw, struggling to maintain composure. "It's Reid Hospital. It's normal for me to be here," I retorted, my voice tight.

Chris dismissed me. "Is it? The owner being here at this hour isn't normal," he countered sarcastically.

I fought the urge to lash out. "There's nothing unusual about it," I replied evenly, though my fists clenched.

"By the way, who's Kamille to you?" I asked.

"Oh, Miss Kamille? It's not who she is, but who she will be," he replied, his confidence grating.

My blood boiled. How dare he pry? Before I could stop myself, I said, "Kamille is my wife."

Chris's swift reply was a dagger: "Ex-wife, I presume," he retorted triumphantly.

The ground seemed to fall away. I couldn't believe it. Kamille would never tell anyone about a divorce. Or did she? How close was she to Chris?

But there was no time to dwell on my shock. Chris's smirk fueled my anger. With a piercing glare, I demanded, "About the property, why that location?"

His response was flippant: "I told you, Mr. Reid, it's close to the school. I want to make the school bigger and more convenient."

I stared at him, assessing his every move. Something sinister is definitely going on with this son of a bitch.