Chapter 4 The Real Reason He Chose Her
"Mr. Cavendish, are you all right?" Naomi rubbed William's back as his coughing grew worse.
Then suddenly, his voice cut off and he collapsed.
"Grandfather!" Jonathan pushed Naomi aside and lifted William in his arms, rushing toward the stairs.
"Call the doctor!" he shouted.
The words had barely left his mouth when someone ran to make the call.
Concerned for William, Naomi hurried after them into the bedroom. What she saw there left her stunned.
The room was equipped with every medical device imaginable—monitors, IV stands, oxygen tanks. Several nurses were already hooking William up to an IV.
This wasn't a bedroom; it was practically an ICU.
The doctor rushed in moments later. "Mr. Cavendish, I need you to step outside, please."
"Save him," Jonathan said, his voice tight with restrained emotion.
Noticing Naomi still frozen in place, Jonathan grabbed her arm impatiently and pulled her out.
The door slammed behind them.
Naomi finally snapped back to reality. "What's wrong with Mr. William Cavendish?"
"Terminal cancer." Jonathan's voice was emotionless, but his grip on her arm tightened.
"You're hurting me," Naomi said, wincing.
Jonathan let go, his gaze lingering on her face. The words echoed in his mind—she had said them before, on that night. Her voice then had been softer, almost trembling: "You're hurting me."
Such fragility… carved deep into him, refusing to fade.
He looked away, focusing on the bedroom door.
Naomi clasped her hands together, silently praying for William's recovery, though she knew terminal cancer meant he was simply waiting to die.
During college, when her family had cut off her tuition money, she'd worked as a hospital aide. She knew cancer patients' final days were excruciating.
Money made no difference in the end—death brought the same suffering and desperation to everyone.
The memory made her chest tighten. She was about to walk to the end of the hallway for some air when Jonathan spoke, his voice devoid of emotion.
"I need you to play the role of my wife while my grandfather lives out his final days. In return, I'll give you enough money to live comfortably for the rest of your life."
Naomi stood still, then nodded.
Of course. The fairy tale where the wealthy heir falls in love with someone like her was never going to happen.
All she had to offer was her reasonably pretty face and her work ethic—neither of which impressed someone like Jonathan.
He could have any beautiful woman he wanted, even handsome men if he preferred. And hard workers? Cavendish Corporation was full of them. Those who didn't work hard enough were simply replaced.
So why had Jonathan chosen to marry her?
Naomi's eyes widened as scenes straight out of romance novels and melodramatic soap operas flashed through her mind. The only card she'd ever had was that she'd been a virgin the night they first slept together.
Then the realization struck—Cavendish blood was pure, and the family would never allow a drop of it to be "tainted."
Was that it? Was she nothing more to Jonathan than a vessel to bear his heir?
Naomi glanced at the clock. More than twenty-four hours had passed since that night with Jonathan. She had never dealt with contraception in her life, and had no idea how long emergency pills would still work.
A sickening thought wormed its way into her mind—what if Jonathan was cold-blooded enough to want her pregnant, just so William could see the child before he died? Would she be reduced to nothing more than a vessel, discarded the moment her purpose was served?
The image of being forced into an early C-section, simply to place a newborn in William's frail arms before the end, sent a chill knifing down her spine. Her stomach turned, and she had to swallow hard to keep the rising nausea at bay.
If Jonathan wanted it, what couldn't he make happen?
Naomi pulled out her phone and quickly searched for nearby pharmacies. The closest one was dozens of miles away. She glanced at Jonathan.
"Something wrong?" he asked coldly, catching her gaze.
Naomi awkwardly asked, "Could your driver take me home first?"
Jonathan laughed inwardly.
This woman had been chatting warmly with his grandfather, but the moment he collapsed, she showed her true colors.
"If you want to leave, get out yourself," he said dismissively.
Feeling Jonathan's anger, Naomi didn't dare ask again. Instead, she began frantically searching whether emergency contraception would still work within 72 hours.
Jonathan noticed her anxiously typing on her phone.
Remembering she had been James's girlfriend, he quickly looked away.
It didn't matter whose girlfriend she had been, as long as his grandfather liked her.
When his grandfather passed, it would be time for her to go.
After confirming some emergency contraceptives worked within three days, Naomi finally relaxed. She stood outside William's bedroom, waiting for the emergency to end.
Half an hour later, the doctor emerged, wiping sweat from his brow. "Mr. Cavendish, we've stabilized your grandfather, but he must remain on bed rest. No more extended periods sitting up."
Jonathan glanced at Naomi, who widened her eyes in disbelief.
Was he blaming her? William had asked her to play chess—she hadn't known about his condition.
"Naomi?" William's weak voice called from inside.
Naomi hurried in, kneeling beside the bed and taking William's hand. "I'm here, Mr. Cavendish. Are you all right? Does anything hurt?"
Seeing William with an oxygen mask, his breathing shallow, Naomi's eyes welled with tears.
"Don't cry, Naomi. I'm fine," William said, patting her hand gently. Naomi turned away to wipe her tears.
"Don't cry, Naomi… I'm all right," William murmured, giving her hand a faint, reassuring pat. She turned her face away, dabbing quickly at her tears.
From the doorway, Jonathan watched, his expression like ice.
'She could win an award for this performance,' he thought. 'What a waste, hiding behind a desk as a talent agent.'
The little strength William had drained away, and his eyelids fluttered shut once more.
Naomi lingered for a moment, then slipped out of the room without a sound, the air behind her heavy with unspoken words.
"Come on. I'll take you home," Jonathan said, heading downstairs without looking at her.
Naomi felt irritated but reminded herself that in a few months she could divorce him. Until then, he would serve as her shield against her family's matchmaking attempts. The thought improved her mood slightly.
Jonathan remained silent during the drive, his expression dark and forbidding.
As they approached her neighborhood, Naomi quickly said, "Stop here, please. At the pharmacy. I can walk the rest of the way."
The driver, Terry Perez, glanced at Jonathan, who nodded slightly. Terry pulled over.
Naomi practically ran toward the pharmacy.
Terry commented quietly, "Ms. Kennedy doesn't look well. Do you think she's sick?"
Jonathan considered this, then opened his door with irritation. His grandfather needed Naomi to keep his spirits up, so he had to ensure her absolute health. Nothing could interfere with his grandfather's treatment.
Meanwhile, Naomi pushed through the pharmacy door, chest heaving, and made straight for the counter.
"Do you have the morning-after pill? The kind that works within seventy-two hours?" she asked in a rush. "Something that'll make sure I don't get pregnant?"