A wave of gratitude washed over Phoebe, leaving her breathless. Her face throbbed with pain, but she managed to utter, “It’s not your fault.” Betrayal, of such magnitude, was the last thing she had anticipated. Meanwhile, Theodore was drowning in a sea of guilt. Phoebe attempted to sit up, her head spinning, but Theodore was quick to steady her. “What do you need? I’ll get it for you,” he offered. “I just need to sit for a while,” she responded. With gentle care, Theodore helped her into a sitting position, placing two pillows behind her for support. Upon noticing Phoebe’s return to consciousness, the doctor quietly exited the room, leaving the two alone. Phoebe watched Theodore take a seat beside her bed. She lifted her hand to her face, her fingers lightly tracing the contours of her bruised skin. “I must look terrible now. Is there a mirror? I want to see.” “You’re not ugly. You’re beautiful,” Theodore reassured her, his fingers tenderly brushing against hers. She looked into his eyes, seeing her own reflection mirrored back at her. “How did you know I was there?” she asked. Everyone else, apart from John who was aware of her meeting with Tompson, had conspired against her. Theodore shouldn’t have known. Yet, he was the one who had come to her rescue. Theodore pressed his lips together, his gaze unwavering. “Your assistant called me. He had a bad feeling about your safety.” He had been scheduled to have dinner nearby that day. Upon receiving John’s call, he had rushed over without a second thought. “John?” Phoebe’s brow furrowed in confusion. Before the realization of her drugged state had dawned on her, she had been oblivious to the setup. Why had John known in advance? Had he discovered something? Theodore nodded. “Yes, he found it suspicious when he was suddenly called back before you left.” John had sensed something amiss but couldn’t quite put his finger on it. When he returned to negotiate with the paparazzi, they had stalled, refusing to hand over the photos as if they were intentionally delaying. With a sinking feeling in his gut, he had kept Theodore on the line, hoping he would check on Phoebe. After all, Tompson was notorious. If he harbored any ill intentions towards Phoebe, and she was alone, she would be at a disadvantage. A shiver of fear ran down Phoebe’s spine as she listened to Theodore’s account. If John hadn’t sensed the danger and alerted Theodore, she shuddered to think what could have happened. And if Theodore had dismissed the call, she might not have escaped unscathed. She turned to Theodore, her eyes searching his. “Why did you believe him and come to save me?” He had despised her so much. He should have been the last person to wish her harm. So why had he rushed to her aid? Theodore held her hand firmly, yet gently. His calm gaze met hers. “Phoebe, what kind of person am I in your heart?” Caught off guard by his question, Phoebe bit her lip, her eyelids drooping. She was too afraid to meet his gaze or to respond. Theodore took a deep breath, gently lifting her chin to force her to look at him. His eyes bore into hers as he declared, “Phoebe, no matter what you think of me, you are my wife, and I cannot stand by and watch you being bullied.” He had the liberty to treat her as he pleased. But if anyone else dared to harm her, they would pay twice over!

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