Chapter 7: We Don't Have Any Relationship Anymore

Lena's POV

The color drained from Cecilia's face in an instant.

She froze in place, one hand still maintaining the protective gesture over her abdomen, even her breathing stopped.

Julian's gaze stayed on that pile of papers for one second. Just one second. Then he slowly lifted his eyelids and looked across at Elliott.

The air in the hallway felt as if it had been sucked dry.

"Come here." Julian suddenly spoke, his voice low and carrying an undeniable commanding tone.

I froze, still not having processed what was happening when Julian had already extended his hand. His palm was broad, his fingers bearing the thin calluses of someone who held pens for years, and he accurately fastened them around my wrist, pulling with force. The momentum yanked me forward, stumbling a step, directly breaking free from Elliott's restraint and lurching to Julian's side. He released his grip smoothly, his tall frame shifting slightly to shield me within his line of protective sight.

The cold, crisp cedar scent blocked out the nauseating perfume smell from Elliott's body. I leaned against the cold, hard wall, my chest rising and falling violently.

Julian looked down at Elliott from his superior height, his tone calm but carrying the sharpness of a blade's edge. "You just said you accompanied Lena to the hospital. But I recall she's been by my side all evening. How exactly did you accompany her?"

Elliott's Adam's apple rolled violently.

He opened his mouth, the sound stuck in his throat. The lie had been exposed on the spot, and by the father he feared most—the muscles in his face twitched uncontrollably.

Julian didn't continue pressing him with questions. Instead, he took long strides, unhurried and measured, walking toward the elevator entrance. His leather shoes struck the polished floor tiles, making dull sounds. Each step seemed to land on Elliott's nerves.

"Cecilia." Julian stopped a few steps away from her, his gaze sweeping across her slightly protruding abdomen, his tone revealing no emotion. "Appearing at the hospital late at night—are you feeling unwell?"

Cecilia's entire body trembled.

She instinctively wanted to pick up the prenatal examination forms from the floor, but because her movement was too hasty, she nearly lost her footing.

"I..." She stuttered, looking toward Elliott for help, her eyes already brimming with tears.

Julian followed her gaze to Elliott, the corner of his mouth pulling into an extremely faint arc. "What a coincidence—did you two come to the hospital together?"

For Elliott, this sentence was simply a lifeline.

He snapped to attention immediately, quickly seizing this way out. He strode to Cecilia's side, using his body to block the papers on the floor, and said to Julian with forced composure, "Yes, Father. Cecilia suddenly had severe stomach discomfort tonight, the pain was quite bad, and the family driver happened to be unavailable, so I drove her over."

He spoke rapidly and urgently, trying to use his speed to cover his guilty conscience.

"I just ran into Lena in the hallway and was afraid that if you saw Cecilia and me alone together late at night, it would create a misunderstanding—after all, given our positions—so in a moment of confusion, I foolishly claimed I was accompanying Lena. Father, it was my poor judgment."

Stomach discomfort.

I stood behind Julian, listening to this utterly absurd excuse, my nails digging deep into my palms. Just moments ago, Cecilia had been cooing about "the baby kicking me," and now it had become stomach discomfort.

Did they really think Julian was blind?

Cecilia finally snapped back to her senses as well.

She quickly crouched down, frantically gathering those papers printed with ultrasound images into a messy pile, clutching them tightly in her hand and hiding them behind her back.

She stood up, forcing out a weak smile, her voice still delicate and soft. "That's right, Julian. I was so fortunate to have Elliott tonight, otherwise I really wouldn't have known what to do. He's just too concerned about your opinion, afraid you'd be angry. Please don't blame him."

The two of them sang in harmony, trying to gloss over this ridiculous matter.

Julian watched them quietly, a trace of undisguised mockery flashing through his gray-blue eyes.

"Afraid I'd misunderstand?" Julian let out a cold laugh, his voice pressed very low but carrying a bone-chilling coldness. "Or is it that you two have guilty consciences?"

The temperature in the hallway instantly dropped to freezing point.

Elliott's face immediately turned deathly pale, a layer of fine, cold sweat seeping from his forehead. He kept his head lowered, both hands pressed tightly against the seams of his trousers, not even daring to breathe heavily.

Cecilia was also frightened into shrinking back, biting her lower lip tightly, presenting a pitiful appearance.

I knew Julian had absolutely seen through the situation. He controlled the massive Anderson family—what scheming and plotting hadn't he witnessed? Elliott and Cecilia's clumsy acting was simply not enough in his eyes.

He wasn't erupting now, perhaps only because this was a hospital hallway, and he didn't want family scandals exposed in a public place.

The air fell deadly silent for a full half minute. That half minute must have felt longer than a century to Elliott.

To break this suffocating oppressive feeling, he suddenly lifted his head and forcibly shifted the topic to me.

"Lena, since you're not here to see a doctor, what are you doing at the hospital so late at night?" Elliott looked at me, his face once again wearing that false concern. "What happened to your forehead? Your complexion is so poor too. Are you sure you don't need me to accompany you for an examination?"

Looking at his hypocritical face, my stomach churned violently.

Just a few hours ago, it was he who had personally pushed me down, causing me to hit my forehead. Now he could actually act in front of Julian like a devoted husband concerned about my injury.

This extreme hypocrisy made me feel utterly nauseated.

"Not necessary." I looked at him coldly, my voice without a trace of inflection. "I'm here to visit a patient. It has nothing to do with you."

"Visit a patient?" Elliott frowned, his eyes full of suspicion. "You have no relatives at all in New York. Who could you possibly be visiting?"

His words were like a thorn, precisely piercing my vulnerable spot.

Yes, for the past twenty-five years, I had always thought I was an orphan with no family. And now I had family, but they could only lie in the cold morgue and intensive care unit.

But I would absolutely not reveal half a sentence about the Lambert family to him at this moment. If Elliott knew I was the newly found heir of the Lambert family, he would definitely cling to me like a leech, using my identity to consolidate his position in the Anderson family.

"This is my private matter." I met his gaze without yielding, my tone stiff. "Elliott, there's no relationship whatsoever between us anymore. You don't need to pretend to care about me here, and I have no obligation to report my whereabouts to you."

"You..." Elliott had his face brushed off in public by me, a flash of anger passing through his eyes.

He instinctively took a step forward, wanting to lose his temper, but the corner of his eye caught sight of Julian standing to the side, and he immediately forced the anger back down.

Julian stood there, his gaze deep as he observed me. He didn't interject, as if examining how I would handle Elliott's entanglement.

I took a deep breath, forcibly suppressing the exhaustion and disgust in my heart, and turned to look at Julian.

"Mr. Anderson, I'll return to the ward first." I bid him farewell in a calm tone, not even sparing Elliott and Cecilia another glance, and directly turned toward the VIP ward at the end of the hallway.

I turned directly and walked toward the VIP ward at the end of the hallway. My heels struck the cold, hard floor tiles, making crisp sounds.

I just wanted to leave this suffocating scene as quickly as possible. Even breathing one more second of the air around them made me feel sick.

"Lena, wait a moment."

Elliott's footsteps followed closely.

He strode in front of me in a few steps, forcibly blocking my path. The earlier panic was quickly suppressed by him, and his face once again wore that supremely hypocritical look of concern.

"Since your friend is so seriously ill, as your husband, I should naturally go and visit." He straightened his suit cuffs, his tone matter-of-fact. "I'll have my assistant prepare some appropriate gifts right away, and we'll go together."

I looked at him coldly.

He didn't care at all who I was visiting. He just wanted to continue playing the role of a considerate good husband in front of Julian, maintaining his perfect persona.

"Not necessary." I cut him off without courtesy, my gaze moving past his shoulder to look directly at Julian standing a few steps away.

"Elliott, we're already over." I emphasized my tone, each word clear. "From the moment you threw that fake marriage certificate at me, we've had no relationship whatsoever. Please stop using the word 'husband' to disgust me."

The air in the hallway instantly went quiet.

Julian's gray-blue eyes narrowed slightly, his gaze slowly sweeping between me and Elliott. He had one hand in his coat pocket, his posture casual, but the oppressive feeling emanating from his whole body made it impossible to ignore.

"Over? Fake certificate?" Julian's voice was low, carrying no emotion, yet pressing down on Elliott like something tangible. "What's going on?"