Chapter 502 A Love Measured in Fire

Yunice had learned everything she needed to about Nora, so there was no reason to keep wasting time with Maine. She said, "It’s about to ram. I’ll drive you back.”

Seeing that Yunice was leaving, Maine reached out to stop her. “After everything, I just told you, you’re not even going to say—"

She hadn’t finished her sentence when Yunice suddenly jerked backward like she’d seen a ghost.

Maine was startled and instinctively followed her gaze.

A chill shot up her spine and froze her brain for a second.

Wyatt stood behind them with one hand in his pocket, his gaze cold. Who knew how long he had been standing there, listening?

Maine felt like her heart stopped. For a brief moment, she actually considered hiding behind the woman she disliked so much.

Ever since Nora’s accident, Wyatt had issued a strict order: no one was allowed to mention her.

Everyone else avoided even saying her name in front of him. Only Maine, because she was Nora’s best friend, dared to push the line again and again.

But Wyatt had also made it clear–Nora’s name was never to be brought up in front of Yunice.

Now she’d been caught red-handed. Even Nora herself couldn’t save her from this.

Sure enough, Wyatt ignored her completely and held out a hand to Yunice. “Come here.”

Maine looked at Yunice with a complicated expression–part fear, part confusion. Why was Wyatt so patient with her?

He had personally come to retrieve her.

He… had never even done that for Nora.

Yunice didn’t move. She put her hands behind her back.

Wyatt walked over, assuming she was just being difficult. He reached behind her and grasped her wrist.

Yunice frowned. “Wyatt!”

“You want to stand in the rain?” he said. “You still have a fever. What are you trying to prove?"

Yunice looked at Maine, but Maine now resembled a quail, shrinking in on herself, head practically buried in her shoulders, not daring to even exist.

Then she looked back at Wyatt’s unreadable eyes. She knew better than to test his temper.

Wyatt picked her up and carried her to the passenger seat, strapped her in, and shut the door.

He didn’t say a word to Maine, just drove away.

But he didn’t head toward Pavilion Hall.

The early winter rain came fast, like a sudden change of face, pelting the car windows.

Just as Yunice began to worry whether Maine could catch a ride with her injured leg, Wyatt slammed on the brakes.

There were no buildings around–just more rolling green fields. The car sat alone in the middle of the downpour, isolated from the world.

Rain beat rapidly outside. Inside, it was dead quiet.

Wyatt rested one hand on the steering wheel, staring at the raindrops trailing down the windshield.

His voice was cold. “Happy now?”

She had insisted on digging up the truth about Nora. Now that she had it–was she satisfied?

Yunice said, “This has nothing to do with being happy. I just wanted clarity. I wanted to know what I am to you. That’s basic respect.”

“You’re my wife. She’s the past. That’s what you are,” Wyatt replied.

“And if Nora wakes up: what will you do then?"

“You once gave her love. She just went to sleep. When she wakes, she has to face the fact that the man she loved is now someone else’s husband. Isn’t that cruel?”

Yunice knew Wyatt wasn’t a good person. But she could accept his cruelty when it was aimed at cruel people–not when it was repaid to those who had loved him.

But Wyatt latched onto her wording. “What love? What did I give her?”

“An island to watch the aurora? Burning bridges with billionaires? Letting her walk barefoot in my office?”

“You think I didn’t do more for you? Every piece of clothing you’ve ever worn–I cut the fabric myself. I picked the material. I drew the patterns. I stitched it together.”

“To clear your name, I pissed off half of Silverburgh’s elite.”

“Office privileges? You get my bed. You get me. What are you complaining about?”

Wyatt pulled out his wallet from inside his jacket, removed every credit card from the holder, and tossed them in stacks into Yunice’s lap. “Is this enough? Or do you think I haven’t done enough for you? It’s all yours.”

Then he opened the glove box and pulled out a document. “This is a Northvale Hospital appointment letter. Sign it and it’s yours.”

He tossed that onto her lap too.

Yunice stared blankly at the pile of money and paperwork, then mentally replayed everything he’d just said.

He made her clothes himself?

He ruined relationships in Silverburgh for her?

All these cards, Northvale Hospital…

“Wyatt…”

Yunice opened her mouth, overwhelmed. But before she could finish, Wyatt lost patience and cupped the back of her head, forcing her closer.

He wanted her. Badly.

The more she pulled away, the more he needed to assert his presence.

His resolve wavered, his body screamed, but the heat in his palm reminded him–Yunice still had a fever.

He had neglected her for three years. Her health had never been good. No matter how much he tried, he still couldn’t bring her back to full strength.