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Chapter 9: Is He Sick?

"I don't have time to explain. He's not doing well. If you want to see him, follow me. If you don't care, I won't stop you!" Ethan turned and walked away. Ava hurried to catch up, her concern for Alexander growing by the second.

William watched them leave, a sly smile on his face. "Interesting," he muttered.

Ava noticed Ethan carrying a bag of medicine and felt a sudden dread. "Hold on a second."

Ava eyed the medicine in Ethan's hand. "What's that for?"

Ethan stopped, turned around, and frowned, clearly annoyed by her.

"What's the medicine for?" Ava repeated, her voice tinged with urgency.

Ethan scoffed. "Medicine is for treating illnesses. What else?"

Ava's heart pounded, a wave of panic washing over her.

"Are you sick?" she asked instinctively.

"Me?" Ethan let out a cold laugh. "No, it's for your husband!"

Ava's heart tightened. "What's wrong with him? Why does he need medicine?"

A complex emotion flickered in Ethan's eyes. "Don't you know?"

"Is he sick?" Ava's voice was filled with worry as she pressed again, ignoring Ethan’s taunt.

Ethan seemed amused by her question, but his smile was cold. "Your husband knows your menstrual cycle by heart, and you don't even know he needs medicine!"

Ava was overwhelmed with guilt and confusion. She had no idea what was happening to Alexander or why she was so clueless.

Ethan said nothing more and led Ava to a high-end apartment in the city center. The place screamed luxury, but to Ethan, it was just one of his many residences.

Ethan punched in the code, and the door swung open. He stepped inside, but Ava hesitated at the threshold.

"What's the holdup? Get in here," he said, a hint of impatience in his voice.

Ava took a deep breath. Whatever was inside, she had to face it.

"Is anyone else in there?" She worried Isabella might be around, which would be awkward.

Ethan frowned. "Who do you think would be here?"

Ava forced a smile. "Never mind."

Ethan shot her a cold glance and walked in.

As soon as they entered, the strong smell of alcohol hit them.

Alexander was sprawled on the windowsill, one leg dangling over the edge, his body teetering dangerously. The floor was littered with bottles and broken glass.

"What the hell are you doing up there?" Ethan rushed over, lifting Alexander's leg back onto the windowsill and pushing his body inward, afraid he might fall.

"Why are you just standing there? Help me out!" Ethan snapped at Ava, who was frozen in place.

She dropped her bag and hurried over.

Alexander reeked of alcohol, his shirt half unbuttoned. He was dead drunk, his brows furrowed, his chest rising and falling heavily. He looked terrible, like a man completely out of control.

Yet even in this disheveled state, he hadn't lost an ounce of his charm; if anything, his wild, decadent look added to his allure.

Ava reached out to touch his forehead. It felt a bit hot, and she couldn't tell if it was from the alcohol or a fever.

Who was he drinking for? Isabella?

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