His Belated Love for the Abandoned Ex-Wife Chapter 303: A Fever and a Secret

They kept to themselves, each focused on their own tasks.

The following day, Iris drove to the DNA testing facility with the receipt in hand.

She collected the report, opened it, and in that moment, every suspicion was confirmed: she and Ethan were not biological siblings. There was no blood relation between them at all.

Maybe she had already braced herself for the truth, but apart from a dull anger and lingering confusion, she didn't feel much else.

Just then, her new phone rang.

Pulling it out, she saw Julian's name light up the screen—she'd recently restored her old number.

Her chest tightened. She swiped to answer and raised the phone to her ear, her voice softening. "Hello?"

On the other end came Harper's tearful plea. "Mommy, Daddy's sick. Can you come home? He's too tired to play. He's really warm and sweating a lot."

Panic shot through Iris. Already walking quickly, she tried to sound calm. "Don't be scared, sweetie. Mommy's on my way."

Come to think of it, when she'd seen Julian yesterday, his face had been pale, his energy low.

If he was feeling this bad, why had he still agreed to watch Harper?

Iris stepped to the curb and raised her hand to hail a cab, but both the bodyguard and the plainclothes officer hurried over at once, startling her.

"What's wrong?" she asked, anxiety rising.

The officer spoke first. "Iris, please avoid getting into any vehicle you haven't arranged—even regular taxis."

"But—I have an emergency. I need to get to the house out in the suburbs—"

The bodyguard stepped closer. "We'll drive you."

"Okay." Without hesitating, Iris slid into the back seat of the bodyguard's sedan.

The officer followed in his own car.

Half an hour later, they reached the suburban villa.

Iris didn't ring the bell. She keyed in the entry code, pushed the door open, and hurried inside.

The moment she stepped into the foyer, Harper scrambled off the sofa and ran toward her.

Kicking off her shoes, Iris crouched down and scooped her up, her eyes darting around the living room.

"Mommy, Daddy can't get up. He's in his room," Harper said, her little voice full of worry.

Iris' nerves spiked. She pressed a hand to Harper's forehead—no fever, thank goodness. "Did you eat breakfast, honey?"

"Uh-huh. Daddy made me pancakes and scrambled eggs, and I had milk too."

"Where is he now?"

"Upstairs," Harper said, pointing toward the steps.

Carrying her daughter, Iris went up and nudged open the bedroom door before setting Harper down inside.

"Julian?" she called quietly, moving farther into the room.

He was lying motionless under the covers in the middle of the bed.

Iris approached the bedside and glanced at the nightstand: pills, a water glass, antibiotic ointment, sterile gauze, and adhesive bandages.

This wasn't just a cold or flu.

"Julian?" She placed one knee on the mattress and leaned over, gently touching his forehead.

It was damp with sweat, his skin hot to the touch. He stirred faintly, mumbling something unintelligible.

"You're burning up," she whispered, her worry mounting. Her hand moved from his forehead to his cheek, then down to rest over his chest, feeling the heavy rhythm of his heartbeat.

Julian's hand came up and weakly closed around her wrist. "Harper... don't poke around. Go play."

From the other side of the bed, Harper piped up in her small voice, "Daddy, that's not me. It's Mommy."

Julian's eyes slowly opened, landing right on Iris' face.

His gaze immediately darkened. He released her wrist, his voice rough and distant. "Who said you could come in here?"

"You have a fever," Iris pressed, her tone urgent. "Is there a wound? It could be infected. You should—"

"Get out." The command was sharp, cutting her off.

The coldness in his tone hit her like a physical blow. She froze midsentence, a dull ache spreading through her chest.

With her pride, being dismissed like that would normally make her walk out without a second glance.

She shifted off the bed and slid her feet into her shoes.

But then Harper's lip began to quiver. A soft cry escaped her, quickly swelling into full tears. "Daddy, you're being mean... You yelled at Mommy. You don't want her here... Waaah..."

Julian stiffened. Pushing through the weakness, he struggled to sit up, then gently drew Harper onto his lap. With a tired hand, he wiped her cheeks. "Don't cry, baby. Daddy didn't mean to yell. I'm sorry."

Harper sniffled, tears still falling. "You did yell."

"Who do you take after?" he murmured, wiping her face with a defeated tenderness. "So sensitive."

Iris thought to herself. Who else? You.

Just then, her eyes caught a faint rusty stain on the light sheets near his side.

She quickly moved back onto the bed and leaned closer to look at his back. "You're bleeding? What happened to your back?"

Harper's tears stopped abruptly. "Where? Is Daddy hurt?"

Julian shifted so Harper couldn't see. "It's nothing, sweetheart. Daddy's okay."

He turned toward Iris, his tone lower now, careful not to upset Harper again. "Please take her out."

Iris ignored him completely and reached for the collar of his t-shirt. "Let me see. Why is it bleeding?"

Harper copied her, tiny hands tugging at the fabric from the other side.

Julian tried to gently push Iris' hand away, but Harper kept pulling.

When he moved to guide Harper's hands down, Iris' fingers went to his top button.

"Both of you, out. I'm fine." But against four determined hands, he couldn't keep the fabric in place.