Chapter 5 She Cheated?!

Grace felt incredibly light in his arms, like a weightless feather. Curled up against him, she radiated a heartbreaking fragility.

Dylan's steps were steady as he carried her into the presidential suite and gently laid her on the soft bed.

He immediately called the hotel's private doctor and instructed room service to bring fever medicine and warm water.

Throughout the entire night, he barely closed his eyes.

Grace was dizzy with fever, talking nonsense the whole time.

Sometimes it was suppressed sobbing, sometimes angry questioning, repeatedly muttering the name of the man she had loved and hated for years.

"Alfred, why won't you believe me..."

"Let's get divorced..."

Dylan sat by the bed, using a warm towel to wipe her burning forehead and palms over and over, listening to these broken murmurs. Behind his silver-rimmed glasses, his eyes grew increasingly deep.

So this was the life of Alfred's mysterious, low-profile wife that everyone talked about.

The fever hit hard, and Grace remained unconscious for two full days.

When she opened her eyes again, the view outside the window had completely changed. Sunlight filtered through the sheer curtains, softly illuminating the room, with a faint smell of disinfectant in the air.

She struggled to sit up with her weak body and discovered she was wearing a clean hotel bathrobe. On the nightstand were water and medicine, along with a bowl of warm porridge.

"You're awake?"

Dylan entered the room, and seeing her awake, a gentle smile appeared on his face. He still wore that white suit, without a single wrinkle, looking refined and elegant as ever.

"I..." Grace's voice was terribly hoarse. "How long was I asleep?"

"Three days." Dylan placed a newspaper on the nightstand. "How do you feel? The doctor said you got drunk and caught a cold, with a persistent high fever. You need to rest well."

Three days...

Grace was a bit dazed. She wanted to reach for her phone, then remembered it was still with Gu Yanchen.

For these three days, Alfred probably didn't even know whether she was dead or alive.

That's fine—saves the trouble.

She laughed self-mockingly and said softly, "Mr. Wilson, thank you so much for this. I'll transfer you the medical expenses and hotel fees."

"It was nothing." Dylan's gaze fell on her pale face, his tone concerned. "The most important thing now is for you to recover."

Grace didn't insist further. She would remember this kindness. She drank half a bowl of porridge, warming her stomach, and finally felt a bit stronger.

Meanwhile, at White Corporation's executive office.

Brenda carefully placed a cup of hand-brewed coffee in front of Alfred, her voice soft and tinged with grievance. "Alfred, you've been working for days now. Don't overdo it. By the way, have you gotten in touch with Grace? I've been a bit worried since she was alone that night..."

Alfred was very irritated. He'd been busy handling an overseas acquisition for days and had barely rested.

That day when he left Grace on the roadside, he'd felt a flicker of something, but Brenda's situation was more urgent, so he didn't think much of it.

He assumed Grace would be like before—throw her tantrum and then obediently come home.

"What could happen to her?" He responded coldly, picking up his phone and habitually clicking on that familiar number, ready to call.

"Oh!" Brenda suddenly seemed to remember something, casually holding her phone in front of him, the screen showing a trending news story.

"Alfred, look at this... Is this just reporters making things up? The person in this photo looks like Grace..."

Alfred's eyes fell on the screen, his pupils suddenly contracting.

The headline was glaring and bold: [White Corporation Secretary's Late-Night Rendezvous with Mystery Man, Three Days in Hotel!]

The accompanying photos were crystal clear—Dylan carrying an unconscious Grace, walking intimately into the hotel lobby.

The angle was perfect, making them look like a couple in love.

The report claimed confidently that the two had stayed in the hotel's presidential suite for three full days and nights, their relationship clearly significant.

A towering rage instantly consumed Alfred's rationality.

He'd been working day and night these past few days, and she was out having a good time with another man!

"Alfred, don't be angry. There must be some misunderstanding..." Brenda continued her fake consolation, though a gleam of triumph flashed in her eyes.

Alfred shoved her hand away, his face dark enough to drip water. He stared at Grace's pale face in the photo, the fury in his chest about to explode.

He immediately dialed that number he knew by heart.

What came through the receiver was a cold mechanical voice: "Hello, the number you have dialed is currently switched off..."

Switched off?

Alfred laughed coldly. To him, this wasn't just a dead phone—she had blocked him.

For that man, she couldn't even be bothered to explain. She just blocked him!

"Very good..." he growled through gritted teeth, veins bulging on the back of his hand as he violently smashed his phone to the ground.

At the hotel, Grace had just charged her phone when she saw that overwhelming news story.

Dylan stood nearby, his face apologetic. "I'm sorry, Grace. I wasn't careful enough. I've caused you trouble."

He hadn't expected that paparazzi could infiltrate his own hotel.

Grace just calmly looked at those offensive words, feeling nothing inside, even finding it somewhat ridiculous.

Did she lack troubles? What did this little storm matter?

"It's not your fault." She set her phone aside, her expression indifferent. "Let them write whatever they want. I don't care."

Dylan looked at her with some surprise. He'd expected her to panic, but instead she was so calm.

"What about Mr. White... Don't you need to explain to him?" he asked tentatively.

Grace looked up, meeting his probing gaze, a faint smile curving her lips, as if she'd shed some heavy burden.

"No need," she said softly. "We're getting divorced soon anyway."

As her words fell, Dylan's eyes flickered imperceptibly.

He looked at the woman before him—though she appeared ill, those clear eyes showed an unprecedented determination and freedom.

Divorce?

The word dropped like a pebble into his calm heart, creating ripple after ripple.

He pushed up his glasses, and behind the lenses, a barely noticeable joy quietly passed through his eyes.

She needed to get her phone back.

After resting at the hotel for a day, Grace's strength had recovered somewhat, and she couldn't lie there any longer.

That news story was spreading more and more online. She didn't care what people said about her, but her phone was still with Alfred.

It contained her things.

Grace took a taxi to White Corporation.