How the Ice King Became my Doting Billionaire Husband novel Chapter 198

Not long after, Morwenna emerged from the bathroom, her demeanor suggesting she wasn't in the mood for conversation with Stuart.

Stuart, caught in a moment of hesitation, headed for the bathroom, recalling Fletcher's old saying, "A lovers' quarrel can be resolved after sharing a good night's sleep. All troubles will be gone by dawn."

Just as Stuart entered the bathroom, Morwenna's phone rang.

Her phone had been with Stuart until today when he returned it to her after their return.

The call connected, and it was Claude's butler on the line, his voice laced with urgency.

"Ms. Winslet, thank goodness we've reached you. The young master has had an incident, could you please come at once? We desperately need you here."

Morwenna, alarmed, asked, "What happened?"

"Oh, Claude!" The butler exclaimed suddenly before the call cut off.

With her face paling, Morwenna didn't even bother to change out of her pajamas. She threw on a coat and rushed downstairs.

Today had been a whirlwind of events, and the house was eerily quiet.

Even Orson had been dragged off for a "brotherly talk" by his older siblings.

Morwenna dashed out unseen.

Claude lived near Hetfield's Homestead, close enough for her to run to.

Morwenna pounded on the door, breathless. It took a moment before a maid opened it. Seeing Morwenna, the maid's face brightened, "Ms. Winslet, you're here at last. Please, come in."

Following the maid inside, Morwenna noticed a crowd near Claude's door, which was firmly shut. The butler, pale as a ghost, was pleading softly, "Young master, please open the door. No matter what, you can't skip your medication!"

Morwenna approached, and the butler, seemingly surprised by her swift arrival, nearly dropped to his knees in relief, "Ms. Winslet, there you are."

The butler, coming to his senses, quickly handed over the medication, "Right... these are his pills."

Morwenna, with medicine in hand, led Claude back into his room.

His head hung low and silent.

She observed Claude, his pallor ghostly, red veins webbing his tired eyes, his white hair almost concealing his face, embodying a fallen grace.

"Why aren't you popping your pills? You know the state you're in, and you're totally aware of the risks," Morwenna pressed firmly.

Claude looked even more dejected.

Morwenna lifted his chin, forcing their eyes to meet.

Claude, his voice hoarse and youthful, asked, "Ms. Winslet, have you grown to despise me too? Have you given up on me?"