Chapter 3

Asher grabbed Natalie by the arm and stormed out, slamming the door so hard the hinges rattled.

Even as they walked down the hall, I could hear her hysterical sobbing, playing the ultimate victim.

Asher didn't come home for days.

Every time I checked my phone, his chat thread remained completely blank.

Honestly, it was better than him demanding I apologize to his precious Natalie.

The promotional tour for my new television show kicked into high gear. I was jetting across the country on a grueling schedule, and before long, Asher was pushed to the back of my mind.

Then, his executive assistant, Glen George, showed up out of nowhere.

Glen presented me with an extravagant care package filled with vitamins, high-end medical supplies, and several bars of 52% dark chocolate, specifically selected for me.

"Mrs. Grant, Mr. Grant asked me to deliver this to you," Glen said politely. "He specifically wanted me to remind you about your low blood sugar. Please take care of your health.

"He also noted that if the tour is too exhausting, you can cancel and come home. You don't need to push yourself."

I picked up a piece of the chocolate, and a wave of nostalgia hit me like a physical blow.

It transported me back to the first time I had ever fainted from low blood sugar in front of Asher.

Asher had been completely clueless. He had panicked, rushing me to the emergency room like I was dying. When the doctor diagnosed it as a simple sugar drop, Asher refused to believe it, demanding they run every test in the book.

A nurse had slipped me some glucose tablets, and I woke up shortly after.

When I opened my eyes, Asher looked entirely shattered. I had never seen that expression on his face before or since.

He was the untouchable CEO of a massive empire, but in that moment, he looked genuinely terrified of losing me.

He had pressed his forehead into the palm of my hand. I felt something hot and wet slip through my fingers.

I was stunned for a moment. It was a tear.

I accepted the care package.

Glen asked if I had any messages to pass along to Asher.

I had a million things I wanted to say, but I just shook my head. The bittersweet taste of the dark chocolate melted slowly on my tongue.

The final stop on my tour was a wildly popular outdoor reality show.

Its main gimmick was grueling physical challenges. Combined with the scorching summer heat and a brutal two-day shooting schedule where we barely managed four hours of sleep, it was a recipe for disaster.

By the time the director finally yelled "cut," I could feel the heatstroke setting in.

I didn't even make it to the production van. My vision went black, and I collapsed.

When I woke up, I was staring at a hospital ceiling.

The doctor came in, ran some standard checks, asked a few questions, and told me I was cleared for discharge.

I nodded, asking my assistant, Erin Rasmussen, to go handle the paperwork.

The second Erin opened the door, she stopped dead in her tracks. Asher was standing there in the hallway. Deep shadows under his eyes made him look incredibly grim.

His suit was rumpled, as if he had sprinted out of a high-profile event just to get here.

When he heard the doctor's prognosis, his expression twisted into a scowl.

"Hazel Hart, do you really find pretending to be sick that amusing?" he snapped. "Why is it that the entire cast is perfectly fine, but you're the only one who faints?

"I told you, if you didn't want to film the show, you could have just come home. You don't need to play these pathetic little tricks. Does it make you happy to see me stressed out over you?"

Stunned, I stared at him for a second before I actually let out a dry laugh.

I had literally pushed myself to the brink to finish the shoot, and he was accusing me of faking it to get out of work?

He wasn't even part of the production crew. Who the hell gave him the right to judge my work ethic?

Erin meekly tried to defend me. "Mr. Grant, Mrs. Grant really was sick. We have the medical records right here..."

"That's enough," Asher yelled as his eyes flashed with fury. "I didn't fly all the way out here to watch the two of you put on a performance."

I quietly instructed Erin to leave.

She had only contacted Asher because she was terrified for me, and now she was bearing the brunt of his misplaced rage.

But I knew exactly why he was acting like a monster.

He was still holding a grudge about the cake. In his mind, I was the one who owed an apology, and I should have crawled back to him. The fact that he had to lower himself to come check on me infuriated him.

Natalie could throw a hundred malicious tantrums, and Asher would gladly bend over backward to soothe her.

But I wasn't afforded even a single moment of grace.