Chapter 7: He Was Feeding Me The Medicine With His Mouth!

Angela POV

When I woke the next morning, both Sean and Christina were gone.

The suspicion that had been gnawing at me all night suddenly felt like certainty – they must have spent the night together.

I couldn't help myself; I had to know.

My feet carried me to Christina's guest room before I could think better of it. I hesitated for just a moment before pushing the door open, slipping inside like an intruder in my own home.

The room was immaculate, pristine sheets perfectly made, everything in its proper place. There was no obvious sign that Sean had spent the night here, but Christina's signature perfume still lingered in the air, marking her territory.

I was suddenly distracted by a small shiny object next to the pillow.

I walked over, picked it up, and realized it was a pure gold cufflink. The engraved "S" reminded me—it was Sean’s! The one I gave him for his birthday last year.

So he really did sleep with Christina last night!

Soon this will be her bedroom, not just a guest room, I thought bitterly. Everything that's mine will become hers.

"Oh! Excuse me, Mrs. Shaw."

I startled at the maid's voice, turning to find the maid Sarah hovering uncertainly in the doorway with cleaning supplies.

The knowing look in her eyes made my cheeks burn – how pathetic must I seem, sneaking around my own home looking for evidence of my husband's infidelity?

I retreated to my room, mortification following me like a shadow. I had barely sat down when a knock came at my door.

"Mrs. Shaw?" Sarah's voice came through the door. "Would you like your breakfast brought up?"

"No, thank you." The thought of food made my stomach roll. "When did Mr. Shaw and Miss Jordan leave?"

A slight pause. "They left early this morning. Mr. Shaw had a breakfast meeting, and Miss Jordan accompanied him."

Of course she did.

I managed to shower and dress, each movement requiring more energy than it should. The mirror reflected a pale version of myself – designer clothes hanging slightly loose, makeup carefully applied to hide the shadows under my eyes.

The perfect mask of an Billionaire‘s wife, even as my marriage crumbled around me.

The lobby of our building buzzed with the discrete energy that meant gossip was circulating. The usual morning parade of dog walkers and personal trainers moved with studied casualness, voices dropping to whispers as I approached.

"...always knew it was temporary..."

"...saved his life on that yacht..."

"...just waiting for her to ..."

I kept my head high, pretending not to hear the fragments of conversation that followed me. Two years of practice had perfected my ability to maintain dignity in the face of society's judgment.

"Mrs. Shaw." James Morrison's voice cut through the whispers like a knife.

"A moment of your time?"

I followed him to his office, grateful for the escape.

"Mr. Shaw asked me to ensure you take these." He placed a small pharmacy bag on his desk.

I stared at the bag, my throat suddenly tight. "Did he say what they were?"

"Anti-fever medication, I believe. He was quite insistent about the timing – every four hours, with food."

My hand trembled slightly as I picked up the bag. Through the white paper, I could feel the sharp edges of pill boxes that might or might not be safe for pregnancy.

The irony of it hit me then – Sean's concern for my health could unknowingly harm his unborn child.

"Thank you, James." I turned to leave, but his voice stopped me.

"Mrs. Shaw..." He hesitated, something unusual for the usually unflappable manager. "Perhaps you'd like to know that Miss Jordan's previous visits were always... discrete. This morning's departure was rather public."

The message was clear – Christina wanted to be seen leaving with Sean.

"I appreciate your concern," I said quietly.

James's expression remained professionally neutral, but something like sympathy flickered in his eyes. "Even the strongest bonds can be tested by time and distance, Mrs. Shaw. Two years is a long time to maintain appearances."

The words hit closer to home than he could know. I clutched the pharmacy bag tighter, nodding once before retreating to the elevator.

In our bathroom, I emptied the pills onto the marble counter, studying the labels with desperate intensity. The warnings blurred before my eyes – potential side effects, contraindications, nothing specific about pregnancy.

I should call Dr. Morrison, my regular physician, but that would mean explaining everything. The news would reach Sean within hours.

Maybe it would be better if there was no choice to make.

I opened the bottle and started pouring the pills into the toilet

"What are you doing?"

Sean's voice froze me in place. In the mirror, I could see him standing in the doorway, his expression unreadable. The pills felt like burning coal in my palm, each one a potential betrayal of the secret I was desperate to keep.

"Angela." He stepped closer, his reflection growing larger in the mirror. "Put the pills down."

"I don't need them."

"You're still burning up. What's really going on?" His hand came to rest on my forehead, the touch startlingly gentle.

"Nothing." I opened my eyes, meeting his reflection's stare. "I just don't like taking medication I don't need."

"Since when?" His other hand closed around mine, carefully taking the pills. "You've never been afraid of medicine before. What's changed?"

Everything, I wanted to say. Everything has changed.

"Shouldn't you be with Christina?" I tried to change the subject.

"She's working," he replied simply.

Of course. The perfect Dr. Jordan, balancing her medical career with her careful conquest of Sean Shaw.

I watched in the mirror as Sean methodically returned the pills to their bottles, his movements precise and controlled.

"You need to take these," he said finally, voice soft but firm. "I won't watch you make yourself sicker out of stubbornness."

The irony of his concern nearly made me laugh.

My life felt like something from a poorly written soap opera.

"I can take care of myself." I reached for the bottles, but Sean pulled them away.

"Clearly, you can't."

"You don't need to pretend anymore," I said quietly. "Christina's back now. You can stop acting like you care."

His expression darkened. "Is that what this is about? You're refusing medication because you're jealous?"

The accusation stung, mostly because it was partly true. But not in the way he thought.

"I'm not jealous." I turned away from the mirror, needing to escape his searching gaze. "I'm tired. Of all of it. The pretense, the gossip, the careful dance we do for your grandmother's benefit. Just... tired."

Sean's hand caught my arm as I tried to move past him, his grip gentle but firm. "Angela, look at me."

I kept my eyes fixed on the floor, afraid of what he might see if I met his gaze. His other hand came up to cup my chin, forcing me to face him.

"Whatever game you're playing," he said softly, "it stops now. "

Then Sean did something that completely shocked me. He picked up a piece of pill to put in his mouth, then kissed me on the lips.

He was feeding me the medicine with his mouth!