Too Late to Love Me

Chapter 2

"Who is she?" Evelyn heard her own voice emerge, carrying a tremor she couldn't quite conceal.

Aiden shrugged off his suit jacket with casual ease, draping it over the arm of the sofa.

His gaze swept over Evelyn with calm detachment. "This is Iris. She's the daughter of one of our clients. James had urgent business overseas and asked me to look after her for a few days."

The client. Look after her.

Such a hollow excuse.

Evelyn's heart dropped like a stone into cold water.

So his frantic panic at the hospital, his decision to bring this woman into their home tonight, all of it boiled down to the word client?

Iris, for her part, made no effort to hide her assessment of Evelyn. Her eyes traveled slowly over the other woman, sharp and appraising, gleaming with undisguised arrogance.

Clearly unsatisfied with Aiden's brief introduction, she let her gaze linger before pointing at Evelyn with casual rudeness. "Aiden, I'm hungry. Have her make me something to eat."

The tone carried no pretense of politeness. It was matter-of-fact, the kind of instruction one might give a household servant.

The air in the room thickened.

"Iris." Aiden's voice dropped, edged with reprimand. "Watch your mouth. She's not a servant."

He paused, his eyes shifting back to Evelyn. When he spoke again, his tone softened, but only just, and the gentleness carried a strange distance, like warmth extended across a wide room. "She's my wife. Evelyn."

The word wife slipped from his lips weightlessly, landing somewhere between them without impact.

Aiden turned to address the housekeeper who had appeared in the doorway. "Zoey, please prepare some of Miss Smith's favorite dishes. She prefers seafood, keep the flavors mild."

Soon enough, the dining table filled with delicate arrangements. An array of seafood spread across fine china, salmon gleaming with butter, shrimp curled pink and plump, dishes arranged with the precision of a restaurant kitchen.

The fragrant aroma drifted through the air, rich and inviting.

It turned Evelyn's stomach violently.

Aiden picked up his chopsticks and selected a tender piece of fish, placing it carefully on the plate before Evelyn. "You should eat as well. Try some."

Evelyn's throat tightened. "Aiden." She kept her voice low, meant only for him. "You know I'm allergic to seafood."

Normally, it was manageable, minor contact barely registered, a mild inconvenience at most. But her body was no longer normal. The cancer had ravaged her strength, left her system fragile and unpredictable. What had once been a minor sensitivity could now spiral into something far worse.

Before Aiden could respond, Iris set her chopsticks down with a sharp click. Her lower lip pushed out in a theatrical pout. "Aiden, what does Evelyn mean by that? Is she trying to say she doesn't want me here?"

Aiden's brow furrowed slightly. He looked at Evelyn, and when he spoke, his voice carried that familiar firmness, the unyielding tone he used in boardrooms, in negotiations, in any situation requiring resolution. "Evelyn. James was instrumental in helping the company through the last crisis. We owe him. A small amount won't cause problems, please be understanding."

Understanding.

He wanted her to understand.

Evelyn searched his eyes for something, recognition, concern, a flicker of the man who had once promised to never fail her. She found only calm insistence, the quiet expectation of compliance.

The exhaustion that washed over her then was deeper than any physical fatigue. It settled into her bones, heavy and absolute.

Under the weight of Aiden's gaze and Iris's watchful scrutiny, Evelyn picked up her chopsticks. She placed the fish in her mouth without another word.

She chewed. Swallowed.

Almost immediately, fire ignited in her stomach.

The pain was immediate and catastrophic, a searing, stabbing sensation that eclipsed anything the cancer had yet produced. It lanced through her abdomen like a blade twisted slow, radiating outward in burning waves.

Evelyn pressed a hand to her stomach, jaw clenched tight, fighting the surge of nausea that rose like a tide.

The dinner crawled forward, agonizing and interminable.

Aiden remained patiently attentive to Iris's endless stream of chatter, responding to each comment with the same measured politeness he offered everyone. Her laughter rang bright in the dining room; his replies came steady and calm.

Evelyn sat across from them, barely present, each breath a negotiation with the pain coiling in her gut.

When the meal finally ended, she made her decision.

The moment had come. Whether he believed her, whether he cared, she needed to tell him the truth. About the diagnosis. About the time she had left. About everything.

She drew a deep breath and approached him in the living room. "Aiden. I need to tell you something, "

She never finished the sentence.

A sharp cry cut through the air.

"Ah!"

Iris's voice rang out from across the room. She stood by the display cabinet, and at her feet lay the framed wedding photograph of Evelyn and Aiden, shattered on the floor, glass fragments scattered across the hardwood like shattered ice.

Iris clutched her finger. Bright red blood welled at the tip, stark against her pale skin.

"It hurts..." Her eyes glistened with tears as she lifted her gaze to Aiden, her expression pleading, vulnerable.

Aiden's face shifted instantly, the composed mask cracking to reveal something raw underneath. He crossed the room in three long strides and swept Iris into his arms, carrying her carefully to the sofa as if she weighed nothing.

He knelt beside her, examining the small wound with an intensity Evelyn had never seen directed her way. "How could you be so careless?" His voice held a tension she didn't recognize, sharp with worry, edged with something that looked terrifyingly like fear. "You just fell this afternoon, and now this, "

He scolded softly even as he moved, retrieving the first-aid kit with quick, efficient movements. He knelt again and tended to the cut with focused gentleness, his attention narrowing until the rest of the world seemed to fall away. There was only Iris. Only the small wound on her finger. Only the two of them.

Evelyn stood frozen in place.

Tears surged without warning, blurring her vision into swimming color.

Her skin began to burn. Itching spread across her arms, her neck, her face, red rashes blooming like poppies across pale skin, fiery and unmistakable.

The world tilted. The edges of her vision darkened, contracting inward.

The last thing she saw, before everything went black, was Aiden's profile, utterly absorbed, utterly present, as he carefully wound a bandage around Iris's finger.