His fingers tightened slightly on the armrests of his wheelchair, knuckles whitening, yet his expression gradually smoothed into calm indifference.
"As for running into President Luther and his wife—that truly was a coincidence."
Charles Junior, the current heir of the Charles family, had once been his close friend.
After the car accident, it was this so-called "friend" who had arranged for his treatment at this very hospital.
So that was how it was.
Camilla could tell from Stephen’s expression that he was speaking the truth.
Her cool eyes turned icy.
Talk about fate bringing enemies face to face.
Sinclair’s dark eyes were unreadable, his handsome features betraying little emotion.
"Thank you for the warning, President Mega."
"Even if we aren’t friends now, we’re at least partners with aligned interests.
No need for formalities, President Luther," Stephen replied, his lips curving slightly as he regarded Sinclair and Camilla.
"Since we’ve concluded our discussion, I won’t take up any more of your time."
Sinclair’s thin lips parted slightly as he spoke.
"Ramsey, see President Mega out."
Ramsey stepped behind Stephen’s wheelchair and began pushing it forward.
"President Mega, allow me."
Seated in his wheelchair, Stephen remained composed, though a shadow flickered briefly in his amber eyes, hidden behind the lenses of his glasses.
Camilla picked up a piece of fruit and gently brought it to Sinclair’s lips, her voice soft and tender.
"Since Stephen knows we’re here, the Mega family will surely find out soon enough."
She narrowed her eyes slightly.
Or perhaps, they already knew.
Sinclair’s expression remained calm and composed, betraying no hint of concern.
Whether this hospital—the closest one—was under the Mega family’s control meant nothing to him.
It wouldn’t change his thoughts or actions in the slightest.
A faint smile shimmered in Camilla’s eyes.
"I wonder what they’ll do once they know I’m here."
Sinclair caught the subtle note of amusement and anticipation in her voice and curved his lips slightly.
"What would you like to do, Camilla?"
She had only said one sentence, yet Sweetheart already understood?
Was it too obvious, or did he just know her too well?
Camilla blinked, then leaned in close to Sinclair, her eyes glinting with mischief.
"I was planning to check out of the hospital tonight," she said, her red lips parting in a smile that carried a faint chill.
"But now it seems I’ll have to stay a little longer.
" She tilted her head slightly, her voice light but edged with something sharper.
"With the banquet just two days away, I hope they make a move.
At least it’ll give me something to do—spare me the boredom."
Of course, even if they didn’t act, she wouldn’t let them off the hook after the banquet.
The only difference was whether the prey walked into the trap on its own or had to be hunted down.
The process might vary, but the outcome would be the same.
Sinclair’s lips curved as he gazed at her, his deep, calm eyes softening with warmth. His voice was low and rough.
"Play however you want, Camilla."
After all, he’d be right there with her.
Camilla was clearly pleased with her husband’s unconditional support.
She plucked a plump cherry from the plate and popped it into her mouth.
The moment her teeth sank in, the dark red juice burst forth.
Camilla was caught off guard.
By the time she realized what had happened, she was already flustered, scrambling for tissues to wipe herself clean.
"Sweetheart, quick, hand me a tissue."
"No need for tissues."
The man’s voice was deep and velvety, thick with affection.
Before Camilla could grab a tissue, her face was cradled in a pair of slender, jade-like hands.
Then, his cool, distinctive lips brushed lightly against the corner of her mouth, carrying the faint, intoxicating scent of his cologne.
By the time Camilla belatedly processed what had happened, his lips had already withdrawn. "All clean now.
Her cheeks flushed, heart pounding, she muttered under her breath, "Don’t just do that out of the blue next time."
It was too much—too easy to make her heart race.
Before, it wouldn’t have mattered, but now that she was carrying their baby, she couldn’t afford to get too worked up.
For someone who looked as cool and untouchable as the moon on a winter night, his actions always left her utterly defenseless.
Sinclair smirked, his refined, handsome face still wearing that faint, teasing smile.
Camilla didn’t pursue the topic further, merely continuing to eat her fruit with extra care.
Sinclair watched her, his heart melting like warm honey.
"Oh, by the way, sweetheart," Camilla suddenly remembered something, resting her hand lightly on her still-flat stomach with a gentle caress.
"Did the doctor give us any instructions about precautions during early pregnancy?"
She asked partly to change the subject, but also because she genuinely wanted to know.
Though she was a doctor herself, she wasn’t an obstetrician.
When it came to pregnancy-related knowledge and experience, she was far from being an expert.
Sinclair’s dark, narrow eyes glimmered with amusement as he gazed at his wife’s striking, clear eyes—bright as polished jade.
"The doctor did mention a few things."
Unaware of the subtle shift in her husband’s expression, Camilla picked up her phone, ready to take notes.
"Planning to jot them down, Camilla?"
The corners of Sinclair’s lips curled upward, his obsidian eyes glinting with a knowing, faint smile.
"Alright, let me jot this down—the doctor’s orders must be followed," Camilla opened the memo app on her phone, her fingers poised over the screen.
"Go ahead, I’ll take notes."
The doctor said the pregnancy brain lasts three years—better safe than sorry.
Now, sweetheart, listen carefully," Sinclair’s strikingly handsome face broke into an enigmatic smile as he spoke with deliberate nonchalance.
"The doctor said we need to be extra cautious during the first trimester..."
His dark, fathomless eyes remained fixed on his wife, who was earnestly ready to record every word.
With a faint curve of his lips, he relayed the private instructions from the hospital doctor without holding back.
Camilla’s grip on her phone faltered slightly as last night’s events flashed through her mind.
When she looked up again, her bright eyes shimmered with a mix of exasperation and indignation.
"It’s the truth—I’m not making this up," Sinclair couldn’t help but chuckle at his wife’s adorable pout.
Wrapping his arms around her, he lowered his voice into a soothing murmur.
Camilla had only been pretending to be upset.
His coaxing quickly melted her resolve, and soon, soft laughter escaped her lips.
The sweetness between them was unmistakable, spilling over in every glance and smile.