Second Chance: Marrying into Wealth Chapter 110

"Ms. Turner, I need a favor." Paxton sounded a bit anxious on the other end.

I frowned, not agreeing immediately. I couldn't just say yes without knowing the details. I had to consider my own capabilities.

"What's up?" I replied.

Paxton sounded apologetic. "Sorry to bother you so late. It's about Mr. Collins. He's sick, but my mom's having surgery, and my wife's about eight months pregnant. I really can't leave. I thought of you because you live close to Mr. Collins' place. I'm really sorry to trouble you, but could you check on him?"

Hearing that Christopher was sick made me anxious too. I agreed without hesitation.

"What kind of illness does Mr. Collins have?" I wondered if I should take him to the hospital directly.

Paxton thought for a moment. "He's got a fever and some stomach issues. Could you also pick up some medicine for him?"

"Sure, I'll get up now and grab the medicine. You stay with your family."

I understood Paxton's predicament. It wasn't a big deal for me. Besides, Christopher had helped me so much. Knowing he was sick, I would have gone to help even without Paxton's request.

"Thank you so much," Paxton said, relieved.

He then gave me the code to Christopher's house. "You can enter with the code 0320."

"Got it," I replied.

After hanging up, I quickly changed into some casual clothes and rushed to Christopher's house.

When I reached his door and entered the code, I received another message from Paxton. [Ms. Turner, Mr. Collins is allergic to aspirin. Please be careful with the medication. If you need to take him to the hospital, inform the doctors about his allergy.]

I replied: [Got it. Thanks for the heads-up. Using the wrong medication could be dangerous.]

Paxton agreed. [Exactly. Last time Mr. Collins was hospitalized, we didn't know about the allergy, and it almost caused a serious issue. That's why I remember it so well.]

[Don't worry, I'll take good care of Mr. Collins.] I reassured him, but my mind drifted to another memory.

Years ago, when my mother was still alive, we found a young man unconscious on the road. He was dirty and unrecognizable. We took him to the hospital, not knowing he was allergic to aspirin. After the medication, he had a severe allergic reaction, his face swelling beyond recognition, breaking out in rashes, and struggling to breathe.

The doctors managed to save him just in time. The scene of the frantic rescue still haunted me, even after all these years. I never found out what that man looked like after he recovered.

I entered Christopher's house and headed straight for the master bedroom. The layout was simple, with everything in gray and black tones, making it easy to find the room.

The room was pitch dark, with the curtains drawn tight. I didn't turn on the main light but felt my way to the bedside lamp.

In the dim light, I saw Christopher curled up, clutching his stomach, his face contorted in pain. His face was flushed, likely from the fever.

I touched his forehead, and it was burning hot. If this continued, it could be dangerous.

My cool hand seemed to soothe him, and he instinctively nuzzled against it, like a puppy seeking comfort. It was oddly endearing.

Who would have thought that the usually composed and dignified Christopher could be so vulnerable and cute when sick?

Christopher's condition seemed serious. I worried that simple medication might not be enough, but getting him to the car by myself would be difficult. Tiana, who lived upstairs, was elderly, and I didn't want to disturb her in the middle of the night.

If Christopher could wake up, I could help him downstairs. I gently shook him, trying to wake him. "Christopher, wake up. Christopher..."

He stirred slightly, and after a few more calls, he slowly opened his eyes, meeting my gaze.

His eyes, usually so deep and unreadable, were now clear and confused, like a lost child. "Melinda?"

"It's me. Christopher, you have a high fever. You need to go to the hospital, or it could get worse," I urged.

At the mention of the hospital, he became resistant. "I don't want to go to the hospital."

He was irrational and even a bit stubborn. Despite his weakness, he resisted my attempts to help him, acting like a petulant child.

If it weren't for the serious situation, I would have recorded his behavior to show him later.

I tried to persuade him patiently. "You're very sick. You need to go to the hospital. Please, Christopher, listen to me."

He shook his head, turning away from my touch. "No!"

No matter how much I coaxed, he refused firmly. His voice was soft and weak, but his determination was strong.

Why would a grown man be so afraid of the hospital? I wondered if it had something to do with his past, perhaps a painful memory involving someone he loved.

I didn't want to speculate, but his refusal left me with no choice.

Just then, the doorbell rang. The delivery with the medicine had arrived.

Since he wouldn't go to the hospital, I decided to give him the medication first. If it didn't help, I would call for an ambulance and have him taken to the hospital, even if it meant forcing him.