How the Ice King Became my Doting Billionaire Husband

After finishing her modest dinner, Morwenna tidied away the empty takeout containers.

Aside from the two meatballs, they had eaten everything. Nothing went to waste.

She was quite pleased.

The IV had already been prepared, and Fletcher had double-checked it. Opting not to call in a nurse, he washed his hands, donned gloves, and personally administered the injection to Stuart.

Morwenna had noticed long ago that Stuart was wary of everyone.

Like this injury, when he was feverish and weak, he refused to let anyone from the Hetfield family know.

It was as if, even though it was just a facade, he had to appear strong in front of those he distrusted.

He was somewhat more open with Norbert, but with Fletcher, it was truly something special.

Every hospital visit, it was always Fletcher who examined him, no other doctors or nurses.

Stuart seemed to particularly trust Fletcher.

As Morwenna thought about this, she didn’t count herself in.

She forgot the fact that besides Fletcher, she too was here.

Morwenna saw Stuart frown.

A rubber band was tied around his wrist, making the veins on the back of his hand appear very prominent.

Fletcher was about to insert the needle.

Instinctively, Morwenna reached out and covered Stuart’s eyes, saying naturally, “If you don’t see it, it won’t hurt as much.”

In years past, she often accompanied Melvin to take care of sick children.

Most kids were scared of injections, and that’s just what Melvin would do — Morwenna followed suit.

But it only occurred to Morwenna after she had covered his eyes that Stuart was not a child.

Stuart seemed to blink, and Morwenna felt his eyelashes brush against the palm of her hand, making it tingle.

The needle was quickly in place, and Morwenna hurriedly withdrew her hand.

Stuart said nothing.

Morwenna pretended that nothing had happened.

The IV dripped steadily into Stuart’s body.

Whether it was the medication making Stuart sleepy, or Morwenna sitting by his bed, it wasn’t clear.

Stuart’s eyes drooped with drowsiness.

Fletcher whispered, “Morwenna, you should rest now, everything’s fine.”

“It’s okay, Dr. Vaughn, you go ahead. I’ll keep an eye on the IV, and I’ll call you when it’s done.”

“I’m not busy today, I can watch over him.”

Morwenna awkwardly said, “It’s just that Stuart is a grumpy sleeper, he doesn’t like people around when he’s asleep.”

Hearing this, Fletcher understood immediately.

Indeed, he was of no use here; Stuart wouldn’t rest comfortably with him around.

Fletcher nodded reluctantly: “Alright then. Thanks, Morwenna.”

Morwenna shook her head and just sat beside the bed, watching the IV drip.

When one bottle was finished, she quickly fetched Fletcher for another.

It was getting dark.

Halfway through the second bottle, Stuart’s fever broke.

By 10 p.m., the IV was done, and Stuart was sleeping soundly. Nôvel(D)rama.Org's content.

Morwenna seemed beat but didn't kick back to rest.

This hospital room was as comforting as the rooms at Windcharm Villas.

Just like at Windcharm Villas, she stayed by his side, careful not to let Stuart roll onto his injury.

After watching them for a long while, Fletcher quietly left, feeling somewhat envious.

They, who lived in this materialistic big city, accustomed to all the glitz and pretense, had rarely seen such genuine care and concern.

Morwenna was quietly watching over Stuart, until a ringtone shattered the silence.

Startled, Morwenna jumped, and Stuart was woken up.

Frowning, Stuart took out his phone. “What’s up?”

The voice on the other end was shouting, “Mr. Hetfield, Adelaide’s in trouble. We’re at Windcharm Villas. She’s drunk and insists on seeing you. She says she’ll harm herself if she can’t, and she’s got a knife!”