From His Fake Wife to Billionaire Heiress Chapter 55: The Tainted Soup

Riley was easing the lid off the food container when his words hit her. She went still for a second, then slowly lifted her head, her gaze turning cold.

"Wasn't I hurt at Lydia's place?"

All of Lucas' accusations and complaints lodged in his throat. He had nothing to say.

She was right. The accident did happen at the Ashfords'.

Was it really so strange that she wouldn't trust anything coming from their home?

Lucas' face flushed, then paled. He wanted to snap at her for overreacting and being difficult.

But just as he was about to lose his temper, the door swung open and Isolde walked in.

She took one look at Lucas' stormy expression and frowned. "Mr. Ashford, didn't I make it clear yesterday that the patient needs to remain calm? Why are you raising your voice at her first thing in the morning?"

With someone else in the room, Lucas quickly slipped back into his polite, composed persona. He forced out an explanation. "Doctor, it's not what it looks like. I wasn't yelling. I'm just concerned she isn't eating. It's for her own good."

Isolde didn't seem convinced. Her skeptical gaze dropped to the insulated soup container he'd brought.

A moment later, her frown deepened.

"For her own good?" She gave a short, humorless laugh, picked up the container, and sniffed it. "Then why does this 'helpful' soup of yours smell so strongly of yarrow? She's lost a significant amount of blood—she doesn't need a blood-thinning herb right now. Are you trying to send her back into hemorrhaging?"

"What?" Lucas was stunned.

He hurried over and inhaled carefully.

Sure enough, the distinct, earthy scent of yarrow filled the air.

His face immediately tightened with embarrassment. "That... can't be right. The housekeeper must have mixed up the herbs. It was an honest mistake—"

"Let's hope it was a mistake," Isolde cut in, setting the container down with a firm thud. Her eyes held clear distrust. "And not that some people simply don't care whether the patient recovers or not."

Lucas stood frozen.

His mind replayed last night's scene before he'd left the house. He'd specifically reminded Anthea—more than once—to have the housekeeper prepare a mild, nutritious soup for Riley to aid her recovery.

Anthea had agreed without hesitation.

So how did the soup end up containing something Riley shouldn't have anywhere near her right now?

Was it truly just a slip-up?

Or was it plain carelessness... or even disregard?

While Lucas was still tangled in his thoughts, Riley's calm voice came from the hospital bed.

"So," she said, slowly looking up. There was no anger in her eyes, only a cool, almost detached irony. "Are you still going to blame me for not wanting to eat what you brought?"

Her tone was light, but the words landed harder than a punch to his chest.

"I'm sorry, Riley... I don't know how this happened. I'll go home right now and sort it out. I promise I'll get you a proper explanation."

As if trying to prove his sincerity, he turned and strode quickly out of the room.

The door clicked shut behind him, muffling the sound of his hurried steps down the hall.

Isolde watched him leave, then shook her head, turning back to Riley. "You know, before all this, I'd only ever read about him in the society pages—always such glowing profiles. I thought he was actually polite, principled... different from most of the entitled trust-fund types around here. But seeing him up close like this? Honestly, he's not much better."

Riley was taking small, deliberate spoonfuls of oatmeal Sebastian had delivered earlier. At Isolde's remark, she offered a faint, wry smile.

"I'm used to it. In that house, what he says and what actually happens are usually two different things."

Her casual, resigned tone made Isolde's heart ache a little for her.

*****

Across town, Lucas drove home faster than he should have, frustration simmering in his veins.

When he stormed into the Ashford family's spacious foyer, he found his mother seated comfortably at the formal dining table, leisurely finishing a bowl of soup.

"Nina, this broth is perfectly seasoned," Anthea was saying as she set down her spoon, smiling approvingly at the housekeeper standing nearby. "Do prepare another batch this afternoon and have it delivered to Sophia at the office. She's been working so hard on the new acquisition lately—I can see she's losing weight."

"Mom!"

Lucas marched over and slammed the insulated container onto the polished tabletop. Soup sloshed over the rim.

"The soup you had made for Riley—why was there yarrow in it? Do you have any idea she just survived a major hemorrhage? Isolde said she cannot have anything that promotes blood flow right now!"

Anthea startled at the sudden noise. Then, seeing his accusatory stance, her pleasant expression vanished.

She glanced dismissively at the spilled container. "What's all the drama about? I take yarrow regularly—it's excellent for women's circulation and energy. I had a little added to the batch since I was having some too. If anything, it would only help her."

"Help her? In her condition, it could trigger another bleeding episode!" Lucas' voice rose in exasperation. "Mom, Riley can't have this right now. A quick online search would tell you that!"

"Excuse me?" Anthea's face darkened completely at his tone. All pretense of calm dropped. "Are you seriously accusing me of not taking proper care of her?"