Hidden Heir, Hidden Love

Emerald City, General Hospital.

"You've reached a voicemail box. The person you're calling is unavailable. Please try again later."

Ten o'clock at night, and the robotic female voice echoed harshly through the emergency room.

Just like half an hour ago—still no answer.

The doctor glanced at Serena Windsor, whose forehead was split open and bleeding, his tone tinged with exasperation.

"What's going on with your husband? As your next of kin, we can't proceed without his consent if he won't pick up."

Serena's throat tightened. She put her phone away.

"If it comes to it, I'll sign a waiver. Whatever happens, I'll take full responsibility."

The doctor hesitated for a moment, then finally relented.

"All right. Lie down."

Serena settled onto the examination table, her entire body aching. Every movement sent waves of searing pain through her.

As the doctor began cleaning her wound, he asked curiously, "How did this happen? A scar on your face won't be easy to cover up."

"Car accident."

Serena kept her answer brief.

Before the crash, she'd been driving to deliver homemade chicken soup to Nicholas—soup she'd been simmering for a full day and night without sleep. But as she merged onto the main road, a freight truck suddenly barreled toward her. If her reflexes hadn't been sharp, she'd be dead right now.

After the accident, she'd called Nicholas.

No answer.

Her phone buzzed with a notification.

Serena's heart leapt, thinking it might be Nicholas, but when she opened it, she found a video from an unknown number.

The video was shot at a private club. Serena immediately recognized Nicholas Hayes sitting on the sofa.

He cut an impressive figure—tall, impeccably dressed, his features sharp and aristocratic. He radiated an air of natural arrogance and authority that made him impossible to miss.

He sat casually with his legs crossed, a glass of red wine in hand, his expression coolly detached.

As the camera panned, someone Serena desperately didn't want to see entered the frame.

Clara Wilson. Nicholas's first love. She'd been abroad for three years—why was she suddenly back?

Serena's heart clenched, a wave of dread washing over her.

Then voices erupted from the video—Nicholas's old friends.

"Damn, Nicholas! You really kept this one under wraps! Why didn't you tell us you personally flew Clara back? We could've at least thrown a proper welcome party!"

"Seriously! Does this mean you're finally going to divorce Serena? If she hadn't manipulated your grandmother into forcing that marriage, you and Clara would've been married ages ago!"

"These three years must've been hell for you, man. But don't worry—we're all Team Clara now. I've already got your wedding gift picked out!"

Clara blushed demurely. "Stop it, you guys."

"We're not making it up, Clara. Nicholas has always had feelings for you. Why else would he go three years without having kids with Serena? Here's to you, Clara."

Nicholas never once objected. In fact, he raised his glass and drank along with them.

At the end of the video, Clara was draped around Nicholas's neck, their faces so close it looked like they were about to kiss.

Serena gripped her phone tightly, her breathing ragged. Her heart felt like it was being crushed. Nicholas was even wearing the tie she'd knotted for him that very morning.

She'd been in a car accident. She needed her husband.

But he was throwing a welcome-home party for his ex.

No wonder he hadn't answered her calls. He was too busy flirting with another woman.

"Does it hurt badly? I'll try to be gentler," the doctor said, noticing her distress.

"I'm fine."

Serena wiped away her tears. The physical pain was nothing—maybe one ten-thousandth of what her heart felt right now.

Even being cut into a thousand pieces wouldn't compare.

By the time Serena made it home from the hospital, it was well past midnight. The moment she walked through the door, the household staff swarmed her.

"Mrs. Hayes! What happened to your face?"

"Someone get Mrs. Hayes some ginseng tea!"

The Hayes family's staff descended into chaos. Serena looked deathly pale, a stark white bandage covering her forehead. She moved like a ghost.

Moments later, a car horn sounded outside. A familiar figure strode through the front door.

"What the hell happened?"

Serena's breath caught. It wasn't even midnight yet—why was Nicholas home?

Shouldn't he still be with his precious first love?

"Mr. Hayes, Mrs. Hayes said she was on her way to bring you soup when something happened. She hurt her head!"

Nicholas's gaze landed on Serena. His brow furrowed sharply, a deep crease forming between his eyes.

She was curled up on herself, head bowed, looking like a stray kitten with nowhere to go.

"What. Happened?"

Nicholas's voice rose sharply.

Serena forced a weak smile, her throat dry as she croaked out an explanation.

"I wanted to bring you soup. I got into an accident on the way."

Nicholas's expression turned ice-cold.

"Are you out of your mind?"

Serena's smile froze. She didn't understand why Nicholas, who was usually so composed, was suddenly furious.

"Didn't I tell you not to drive? With your skills, you have no business being on the road!"

"It's just soup! Did you really need to deliver it yourself?"

The tension in the room was suffocating. None of the staff dared to intervene.

Serena lowered her gaze, her lashes trembling as she blinked back tears.

She didn't know what to say. She felt utterly crushed.

Nicholas was silent for a few seconds. Then he picked up the thermos of soup from the table and drank it in one long gulp. His voice was cold.

"I don't like chicken soup. Don't bring it again."

Serena's face went chalk-white. She forced herself to nod.

Nicholas had chronic insomnia. She'd gotten a remedy from a doctor and spent half a month learning how to make it properly, waking up at dawn and staying up late into the night. Her fingers had blistered from the effort.

And Nicholas didn't care at all.

Serena curled in on herself even more, until Nicholas suddenly stepped forward and scooped her up in his arms, carrying her toward the bathroom.