Who Cares About Him When I'm Married to the Richest Man?-Chapter 128: Smoking Is Harmful to Health

Elara was fully conscious, but her limbs just wouldn’t cooperate. She tried hard to stand up straight, but somehow, maybe because the space was so cramped, she couldn’t muster the strength.

Blushing with embarrassment, she shook her head and looked up at him, "Could you help me?"

In her semi-drunken state, she had a charming, innocent look that was rarely seen. Willow’s eyes were shimmering with a watery light. Zion Fitzwilliam’s lower abdomen suddenly tightened, and when he spoke again, his voice was noticeably tense, although he tried his best to sound gentle, "Sure, I’ll help you."

He steadied her arm and helped her out of the car. Softly, Elara thanked him, "Sorry to trouble you."

"Not at all." Today she was wearing a long dress, exposing her slender neck and waist. The man dared not look at her, his gaze fixated straight ahead, restraining himself and replying with composure.

Elara didn’t notice his unusual behavior. Even if she had, she wouldn’t think too much about it. After all, would you expect a gay man to have secret thoughts about a woman? Although she didn’t know much about gay people, Zara Dalton had once said that such comments were an insult to them.

Zion Fitzwilliam guided her back home, set her on a chair, then turned to the kitchen to make a cup of honey water for her.

The honey water was warm, sweet, and fragrant. Elara was surprised, "Did you add jasmine?"

"Yes." Zion nodded while lighting incense, a smile touching his lips as he replied softly, "Someone once told me that adding a few jasmine flowers to honey water makes it taste better."

Elara smiled and said, "What a coincidence, I also love adding jasmine to my honey water. I really like the scent of jasmine."

"As long as you like it." Zion brought over some incense, explaining, "A friend gave this to me; it’s said to have the effect of sobering you up. Give it a try."

The incense was exquisitely crafted, the candlelight as small as a bean burning in a crystal holder, releasing a faint scent of red wine and cinnamon.

Elara felt a little sour inside. She couldn’t help thinking this wasn’t a gift from just any friend. What man gives another man incense?

She wondered if it was from a past partner or an admirer of his.

Realizing her jealousy, Elara felt a bit contemptuous of herself. Seriously, how shameless. It’s not as if he’s interested in her at all. Even if they were mutually in love, she’s a woman who’s been married and divorced; he’d have to not mind her for it to even matter, and here she is feeling jealous.

She felt she was becoming increasingly ridiculous.

But physiological reactions couldn’t be controlled; she could only try to steer her thoughts when she realized they were veering off track.

After drinking the honey water and inhaling some cinnamon, Elara felt mostly sober. She supported herself on the table and stood up; her body no longer felt as weak and limp as before.

Zion asked, "Are you going to take a shower?"

Elara nodded, "Yes, earlier in the club restroom, someone was smoking, and the smell was overpowering. It got onto my clothes, and it’s bothersome not to wash it out."

Only after speaking did she realize Zion was standing there, looking at her silently. Her sluggish mind took a moment to register that, ah, Zion also smokes.

Expressing disapproval of smoking right in front of someone who smokes — did she offend him?

Before she could think of an explanation, Zion looked at her and spoke, "You don’t like people smoking? Why didn’t you say anything sooner?"

He wasn’t a heavy smoker, only lighting up when he felt unsettled. However, since Elara had been around, his unsettled moments had become more frequent. Even so, he only smoked a pack a week.

If he had known earlier that she didn’t like it, he would have quit smoking.

Elara hurriedly explained, "You don’t smoke much, and you always do it outside, never at home. It’s mainly a psychological thing for me. Since I was little, my mom instilled in me that men who smoke are smelly. It’s not about you, I just..."

Her mood was like one in mourning because she realized she was just making things worse.

But honestly, before bringing up the topic today, she hadn’t realized she didn’t like Zion smoking. In fact, even now, she didn’t see anything wrong with him smoking.

Sometimes, the scent of nicotine on him was even a bit intoxicating.

She didn’t know if this was being a love-struck fool, but all in all, they were not in that kind of relationship, so she had no right to require him not to smoke.

Zion gazed deeply at her, only speaking after a while, "I’ll be more careful in the future."

"Actually, you don’t need to..." Elara tried to explain.

Zion cut her off, "It’s alright, smoking is harmful to health. I’ve been wanting to quit for a while."

Elara thought the logic was a bit off, but her tired mind couldn’t process much more. She only mumbled, "Then try to cut down first, see if you can quit."

Then she headed to the bathroom.

The frosted glass door of the bathroom reflected a slender silhouette. Soon, the sound of running water was heard, and Zion watched the constantly moving figure, feeling his throat grow drier and eventually letting out a sigh, turning to go into his own bedroom.

But that silhouette seemed etched into his memory, impossible to erase.

He lowered his head, sighing helplessly.

When would he finally succeed?

Zion rarely found himself in such a muddled state. He took a deep breath, told himself to stop thinking about it; it was disrespectful to Elara.

Just as he was about to open the computer to handle work and calm himself, he suddenly heard a thud from the bathroom, followed by a scream. His expression changed, and he rushed out the door, stopping just outside the bathroom, asking urgently, "Elara, what happened? Are you okay?"

Inside the bathroom, Elara lay naked on the floor, utterly frustrated. She had finished her shower but slipped while reaching for a towel, falling to the ground.

Quickly she responded, "I’m okay, just slipped."

Saying that, she tried to stand up on her own, but as soon as she moved her ankle, a sharp pain shot through, causing her to gasp and sit back down.

Zion was anxious outside the door, "Can you stand up? Where are you hurt?"

"I can’t seem to... stand up..." Elara struggled to speak, "Zion, I may need your help..."

Zion Fitzwilliam said, "How can I help you?"

Elara Hale replied, "I can’t stand up, my ankle hurts when I move it, but it doesn’t hurt when I don’t move it. It probably didn’t injure the bone, just twisted a bit. But to be safe, I might need you to take me to the hospital..."

"All right," Zion Fitzwilliam agreed without thinking, "Unlock the door, and I’ll take you to the hospital right away."

"Um..." Elara felt like her ears were about to bleed, her whole body was flushed with embarrassment, "Could you go to my room and get a towel for me?"

Zion Fitzwilliam hesitated for a moment, "You..."

"I’m... not dressed." Elara wished she could cover her face.

Outside the door, Zion Fitzwilliam understood instantly, his ears also heating up, his heart danced uncontrollably, but he tried hard to keep calm, responding, "Sure."

He walked into Elara’s room, took a towel from her cabinet, and returned to the bathroom door, his throat dry, "I got it, now open the door."

The lock clicked open.

The bathroom door opened a crack, Elara stretched out her arm, "Hand it over."

Zion Fitzwilliam stared at the white, soft arm, his usually calm black eyes now seemed to be ablaze. Taking a deep breath, he ignored his body’s urges and passed the towel over.

After a while, Elara said, "Okay, you can come in now."

Zion Fitzwilliam pushed the door open and walked in, seeing that she had wrapped herself in the towel, her fair neck, rounded shoulders, and... two legs as white as jade.

The bathroom was a place that easily stirred the imagination, tempting impulses. Zion Fitzwilliam suppressed his inner fire and bent down to pick her up.

The woman’s petite body felt like a soft ball of cotton, closely pressed against his chest. His arm contacted her body through the towel. Zion Fitzwilliam regretted his decision a bit, he should have called for an ambulance instead; he had overestimated his self-control.

He could only try to hold her higher, avoiding awkwardness between them.

Before the emotions reached that stage, he didn’t want her to feel offended at all.

Elara didn’t think much, besides feeling a bit embarrassed, she was also puzzled by his oddly awkward way of holding her, as if... lifting her like a dumbbell, raising her high.

Zion Fitzwilliam carried her back to the bedroom, helped her find a set of clothes, and then turned his back to let Elara change.

After changing, he carried her downstairs and headed to the hospital.

At that hour, the hospital had long since closed. Zion Fitzwilliam first took Elara to the emergency room, fearing the emergency doctor might not be capable enough, he called Felix Ford and asked him to come over.

After checking Elara’s foot, the emergency doctor said, "It’s slightly sprained, not a big deal, don’t exert force on the injured foot for a week. I’ll prescribe an ointment for you, apply it three times a day and massage until absorbed."

Zion Fitzwilliam took the medicine just as Felix Ford arrived, gasping for breath, his hands on his knees, standing in front of Zion Fitzwilliam.

"Fitz, what’s so urgent? I was just battling it out with the old man, your call had him kicking me over here."

Zion Fitzwilliam continued walking, saying, "Elara sprained her foot, go check it out."

Upon hearing this, Felix Ford silently rolled his eyes in his mind. This is a hospital, and a minor sprain at night requires his presence? Is that humane?

After examining Elara’s foot, he rolled his eyes further, syncing with the emergency doctor’s words, "No big deal, rest for a couple of days just fine."

Just for a slight muscle sprain, an issue any doctor could handle, calling him, the orthopedics big shot here, is it suitable?

But catching Zion Fitzwilliam’s warning glance, he adaptively changed his tone, "Sis-in-law is really blessed, normally, such a sprain would need ten days or half a month of rest, consider it lucky to just have muscle sprain."

Elara smiled gratefully at him, "It’s really troublesome for you, messing with your night."

Felix Ford dared not take such credit, waved his hand with a laugh, "No worries, idle anyway, haha, I’m taking it easy every day..."

Zion Fitzwilliam escorted him out, "Does this favor go on the Ford Family’s tab?"

Felix Ford didn’t refuse, "Sure, save the old man from calling me useless every day, he now realizes all Fitzwilliam’s projects were earned by me, looks at me much better now."

"Thanks." Zion Fitzwilliam bumped fists with him, watched his car drive away, then turned to walk back.

Returning to the hospital corridor, he saw someone standing in front of Elara; it was Mason Jacobs, talking vehemently to Elara, even grasping her shoulders and shaking her in his agitation. Elara couldn’t escape, her face full of rejection.

Zion Fitzwilliam’s face darkened, he strode over, grabbed Mason Jacobs by the back of his neck, yanked him aside, then stood before Elara, coldly eyeing Mason Jacobs, "Get lost!"

Mason Jacobs glared blood-red at Zion Fitzwilliam, staring fixedly at him. He had a cut on his hand, not heavy, but a long gash; he’d come to the hospital to bandage it, unexpectedly running into Elara here.

He didn’t know why, but somehow he just walked over to her; merely a former husband’s concern, no need for such defensive measures?

"Mr. Fitzwilliam." Mason Jacobs almost hissed through his teeth, resembling an enraged beast, his eyes shimmering with dangerous glints, arrogantly provocative, "Do you think her being with you will make her happier than with me? You can’t give her anything. When she’s hurt, you bring her to this crowded public hospital queue; her injuries aren’t severe, what if they were serious, you’d let her wait to die?"

He looked at Elara with a cold sneer, "When you were with me, we went to certain events, think now! Even for a cold/fever, I arranged a family doctor for you, or took you to private hospitals for the best service! But with him, you live in a shabby house, drive a broken car, go to a run-down hospital, Elara, weren’t you always so pampered? How can you endure such a life now?"

Zion Fitzwilliam’s eyes flickered with anger; dealing with such shameless individuals doesn’t require restraint.

He was about to raise his hand when Elara suddenly tugged at him, softly saying, "Zion, let me explain to him."

Zion Fitzwilliam paused, all his strength drained away, respecting her stance, he stepped back behind her, but still fixedly watched Mason Jacobs, any movement from him and he’d be taught a lesson, knocking teeth out.

Elara looked at Mason Jacobs, seeing this man again now stirred no feelings within her, just found his words amusing, hence she must tell him personally.

"You call me pampered, but did you really see it, or did your mother inform you? Knowing how I lived at the Jacobs Family, even if your mother deliberately withheld it from you, you’re not completely ignorant, right? Fully aware of my struggles, being bullied, living like a servant, yet pretending ignorance, offering cheap concern only when I couldn’t stand it anymore, were you truly concerned or exploiting me, you know it better than anyone. Now saying I’m pampered, Mason Jacobs, does saying such words not shame you?"