Lucinda’s method was simple and crude. It would work, but lacked any elegance and dignity.
Abel couldn’t answer. Lucinda tried to move the conversation along.
“Fine. I’ll go and see what’s happening with him.”
After tidying up her desk, she drove to the hospital.
In the ward, Nathaniel had buried his head under the covers and wrapped the quilt tightly around himself.
The nurse sighed sympathetically.
“Mr. Roberts, you still have a fever. You won’t be able to breathe properly under all those covers.
Please let me attach the drip.”
No matter how the medical staff cajoled him, Nathaniel refused to move. He had started to ignore them completely.
When Lucinda arrived, she saw the strange scene and teased him, “The headline tomorrow will probably read: former president of the Roberts Group died of the fear of needles.”
Jose stood up and greeted her respectfully.
Lucinda nodded and then strode to the bed.
Before she could say more, Nathaniel reached out from under the covers and grabbed her wrist.
He then stuck his head out. He was sweaty from the fever; his eyes were watery. He looked pitiful, a far cry from his usual domineering and cold presence.
He stared at her for a while to make sure that he hadn’t grabbed the wro
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ng person.
He vowed he would never again stupidly mistake someone else for her.
“You’re finally here. I didn’t see you when I woke up. I missed you…”
The fever caused him to speak with a deep nasally monotone. He acted like a spoiled child.
The nurses and Jose were all shocked to witness how he behaved.
Nathaniel had been so angry and fierce when anyone else touched him.
How had his attitude changed so quickly?
Lucinda’s hair stood on end.
“Are you out of your mind? Something is wrong with your brain. I’ll ask the doctors to have you checked again.”
Nathaniel was speechless.