Regret enveloped her as she closed her eyes, yet reconciliation eluded her. Summoning courage, she seized his hand.

The warmth of her palm against his hand nearly elicited a tremor from Marcus.

His gaze lingered on her.

Abruptly, Melissa's voice quivered as she whispered, "Stop being angry, alright?"

The night had been cold, and she felt wretched.

Marcus was poised to speak, but Melissa's endurance waned. Her hand Slipped away gradually. Resulting in a further darkening of his countenance.

An hour later, Melissa's pathology report was issued.

The doctor scrutinized the report, remarking after a prolonged examination, "The patient is suffering from acute gastritis, coupled with prolonged malnourishment."

Gastritis? Malnourishment?

Was Melissa intentionally subjecting herself to this state, hoping to elicit Marcus’ compassion?

Marcus pressed his lips together, commanding, “Admit her to the hospital."

Promptly, the doctor instructed the nurse to carry out the order.

Daunted by Marcus' authority, they refrained from inquiring or upsetting him, given that 52 percent of the hospital's shares were under the Fowler Group's ownership.

Eventually, Melissa lay in the serene confines of the ward.

A transfusion bottle dangled from her slender arm, the skin around the needle puncture taking on a faint greenish-blue tint.

Her state remained unconscious.

Despite the presence of a sofa in the ward, Marcus refrained from sitting. He stood by the window, peering downstairs. He dialed Sylvia, entrusting her with the handling of affairs at the hospital.

Marcus had firmly decided to end his relationship with Melissa, and this decision remained steadfast.

He wouldn't reconsider due to her illness.

Sylvia arrived promptly. Gazing into the room, she seemed momentarily lost. After a brief pause, she called out softly, "Mr. Fowler."