Too Late to Love Her: When She Divorced, He Fell Apart-Chapter 50: I’m Your Wife Now, So Why Bring Her Up?

Chapter 50: Chapter 50: I’m Your Wife Now, So Why Bring Her Up?
"I don’t want to."
Without any hesitation, Claire rejected.
Tristan stared at her, trying to invoke that usual feeling of gnashing his teeth in hatred, yet he was too ill to summon any aggression.
Claire said, "You said yesterday that this fever is caused by overexertion. I’m not the one exhausting you. If you want someone to accompany you, go find Jade Sutton."
She walked to the door, then recalled something and said, "But if you look for her, don’t bring her to my house, or I’ll be really angry. Also, the divorce agreement is on the table; whenever you have time, take a look at it. Let me know if there’s any clause you’re not satisfied with; it’s all negotiable."
After speaking, Claire hobbled out to catch a cab to the office.
As soon as she entered the company, Tina Hayes shouted out, "President Hale is here!"
All the other colleagues gathered at the front desk, bowed to her in unison, and said:
"Welcome back to the palace, President Hale!"
Claire, who had been holding a stiff smile for half a month, couldn’t help but burst into laughter.
Tina’s eyes lit up, "President Hale, this is the first time I’ve seen you laugh so heartily!"
"Yeah, yeah, President Hale never liked to laugh before!"
"President Hale actually does laugh, but she likes to fake laugh, which is quite scary!"
Previously, Claire always kept a stern face, although she treated her colleagues well, she appeared dignified and cold, making it difficult for them to strike up a conversation.
This time, after her mishap, everyone felt somewhat responsible. Had it not been for their matchmaking chaos, President Hale might not have encountered such a mess.
Every single one boldly chimed in:
"President Hale, we’ll follow you to open a nunnery in the future, and we won’t find any more lousy men for you!"
"It’s all our fault, we thought Dean Dawson was so outstanding in the legal field, gave him a career filter, and subconsciously believed he was a Prince Charming in relationships too. Who knew that an excellent man in the workplace could do such despicable things!"
"Exactly, exactly, all these lousy men are big pigs’ feet, not a single one is worthy of our President Hale!"
Listening to their chatter, Claire’s lips curved slightly in a light smile.
She suddenly felt a bit grateful for not dying in that mountain.
There are still things in this world worth protecting and cherishing.
...
During Claire’s hospitalization, although she remotely attended meetings and managed some cases, she inevitably delayed certain matters. Once she immersed herself in work, she only snapped back to reality late in the evening.
Upon returning home, Claire raised her eyes and saw Tristan lying rigid on the living room floor, unmoving.
She hurried over without taking off her shoes, and checked Tristan’s breath.
He’s breathing, alive.
But his body was still alarmingly hot.
Claire took out her phone, about to call an ambulance. Tristan, like a revived corpse, reached out and stopped her.
"I’m not going to the hospital."
His voice was hoarse like a duck’s.
"You’re already passed out. If you don’t go to the hospital, what if you end up dead?"
Claire tried to help him up, but Tristan pushed her away weakly.
He wobbled to stand, stumbled to the sofa, and flopped down, saying, "Low blood sugar."
Claire realized he fainted from hunger.
Mrs. Chen had family matters and went home on leave for a few days, leaving no one to cook at home.
Tristan wasn’t one to order takeout, and in his sickly state, he couldn’t even cook; without it, he might starve to death.
Claire glanced at the fridge. Luckily, Mrs. Chen left some vegetables before she left. Using them, Claire cooked a pot of plain porridge and served a bowl to Tristan.
Tristan opened his eyes slightly but didn’t move, only glancing at her and then at the porridge.
Claire instantly understood he wanted her to feed him personally.
She thought for a moment, looking at him, and said, "If I feed you, will you sign the divorce agreement?"
Tristan slightly curled his lips, intending to sneer, but lacked the strength – his mouth dropped weakly.
"You might as well let me starve."
Tristan gritted his teeth and squeezed out a few words.
"If you starve to death, I’d become a widow, and if Grandpa and Grandma insist I mourn for you a few more years, I’d be thirty by then. Unlike you men who are still in their prime at thirty, the market might drop, and you’d be reincarnated by then. Where would I find justice then?"
Seeing her seriously reasoning with him, Tristan felt a tightness in his chest, coughing heavily several times and nearly coughing up a lung.
Claire set down the bowl and patted his back, saying, "I know you want to kill me, but the kindness between couples lasts a lifetime, so you should consider me. Being a divorced woman still sounds better than being a widow."
After catching his breath, Tristan looked up at her, coldly.
Claire fed a spoonful of porridge to his mouth.
He was probably really hungry, swallowing it immediately.
Seeing he had an appetite, Claire patiently fed him one spoonful after another until the entire bowl was finished.
Then, after waiting for a while, she gave him fever relief medicine.
"Fever medicine only treats the symptoms, not the root cause. If the fever doesn’t subside tomorrow, you really need to go to the hospital."
Claire checked the thermometer, 38.5 degrees – not as high as yesterday, but still a high fever.
Tristan said casually, "I’ll talk to Clarence Finch; you go to the hospital and find him tomorrow. He’ll provide you with the IV drips and medicine."
"Aren’t you a doctor yourself? Why avoid medical treatment when you’re sick?"
Tristan glanced at her casually and turned his head without speaking.
Claire thought for a moment, leaned over, and asked, "Is it because of your mother’s accident?"
He turned his head to meet her dark eyes, and after a moment, nodded.
"When she was rushed to the hospital, her legs were already gone. All I had on my mind was whether I could trade my life for hers. But fate didn’t give me that chance."
Tristan’s eyes lowered, his expression indifferent.
"After she passed, I just wanted to find that hit-and-run driver, but that person fled and still hasn’t been found."
Claire asked, "What will you do when you find them?"
In Tristan’s eyes, there was a fleeting look of ruthless brutality.
Presumably, tooth for a tooth, exacting revenge on them.
Understanding his fierceness, Claire suddenly grabbed his hand, looking at him nervously.
"Don’t throw yourself away for this."
Tristan looked at her, and smiled casually, "Don’t worry, I know the limits."
What he said was indeed reasonable.
If Tristan wanted someone dead, he could do it discreetly; when he was ruthless, he was the type who disregarded family ties.
Claire hesitated, but still said, "Don’t fall too deep into hate. People should look forward; your mother surely wanted you to live happily and joyfully. Besides, you still have your grandparents caring for you, and... um... Jade Sutton too — she’s also been with you through it all?"
Tristan’s gaze on her suddenly deepened.
He opened his mouth, saying, "You’re my wife now; why bring her up?"