Beside him, a delicately colored card caught his eye.
Picking it up, Mark couldnât suppress a smile as he read, âUncle Mark, Iâve left for my shoot in Warsew.
Iâve ordered breakfast for you.
Once youâre done, head back to the hospital.
Youâre probably on the doctorâs naughty List by now-â
Uncle Markâ
The endearment tugged at his heartstrings.
Shaking off his nostalgia, he swiftly dressed in last nightâs attire.
Upon exiting the bedroom, he was met with a startled servant, who had just begun her morning shift.
Her eyes widened in surprise upon seeing him.
âMr.
Evans, shouldnât you be in the hospital?â
Her gaze flitted to an overturned wine bottle on the sofa, realization dawning.
Flushing a deep red, she attempted to recompose herself.
Unfazed, Mark remarked, âIâll be heading back shortly.
Cecilia is away in Warsew for a few days, so thereâs no need for her meals.
â
Finishing his breakfast with an air of elegance, he bid the servant farewell.
She watched, a mix of concern and curiosity, as he left the apartment.
Upon his return to the hospital, Markâs phone was flooded with 112 missed calls, primarily from the hospital and Peter.
Settling back into his room with an IV drip, he was soon joined by Zoey.
Her eyes held a blend of anger and concern.
âYou might be ill, but that doesnât stop your escapades, does it? I swear Iâll ground you the next time.
â
Markâs gaze shifted to Peter, their shared look hinting at an unspoken camaraderie.
Peter, however, seemed disinclined to come to Markâs defense.
Observing their silent exchange, Zoeyâs ire increased.
âRunning around irresponsibly and expecting Peter to cover for you?â
Mark, engrossed in his phone, replied nonchalantly, âI just visited Cecilia, and cooked for her.
â
Zoeyâs demeanor shifted instantly at the mention of Cecilia.