Kidnapped by the Cold-Hearted CEO: His Sweet Obsession

It was almost eleven at night when Charles finally wrapped up work and headed back to the villa.

"Sir, about Miss Carter..." George started to report on Ashley's condition.

"No need to update me about her every day!" Charles cut him off coldly, still pissed about last night.

"Yes, sir." George figured the fever had mostly gone down anyway-no need to stir up trouble unnecessarily.

As Charles walked past Ashley's room, his steps halted without him realizing it. Staring at the tightly shut door, his legs just carried him over on their own.

It had only been a day, but he was already losing his mind wanting to see her.

"If you keep me locked up here, sooner or later, I'll find a way to kill you!" Her heartless words from the night before echoed in his ears.

Funny, isn't it? Just to get back to that man, she'd rather kill him. And here he was, still pathetic enough to miss her.

With a bitter laugh, he yanked his hand from the doorknob and stormed back to his own room.

No idea how long she had slept, but Ashley slowly opened her eyes.

When did she even fall asleep? She vaguely remembered popping a few pills for her fever.

Reaching up, she touched her forehead. Wait, what the...? The fever's gone?

She stared blankly for a second, stunned. Seriously? Took her so much effort to catch a cold and now it's already over? Should she thank the doctor for being too good or curse her stupid immune system?

Heck no, she couldn't get better this fast. She had to go to the hospital!

Determined, she jumped out of bed and ran straight into the shower.

This time, she stood under the cold water for two, maybe three hours. It wasn't until her vision started blurring and even standing felt like a struggle that she finally turned the tap off and dragged her soaked body back to bed.

The next morning, a maid came by with her breakfast.

"Miss Carter, your breakfast." She carried the plate in and set it on the table.

There was silence.

"Miss Carter? I brought your breakfast," she called again.

Still no response.

That's when she noticed Ashley's face was flushed, hair plastered to her scalp with sweat like she had just stepped out from a shower. But the wet hair wasn't from any shampoo...

Worried, the maid quickly set the plate aside and grabbed a thermometer. When she saw the reading, her hands trembled.

"Miss Carter? Miss Carter!" She gave her a light nudge, then a few more. Nothing.

Panic hit hard.

Face gone pale, the maid bolted downstairs.

"Mr. Finley! Mr. Finley!" she shouted, flagging down George who had been checking on Charles's breakfast in the kitchen.

"What's with the panic?" George asked slowly, glancing up.

"It's Miss Carter! I- I think she passed out!" the maid panted, trying to catch her breath.

"What?" George's eyes widened as he rushed up the stairs behind her.

He reached Ashley's room and saw her lying there, and instantly realized she wasn't exaggerating.

Without hesitation, he pulled out his phone and called Kevin.

It wasn't long before Kevin arrived, and George led him straight to Ashley's room.

Meanwhile, Charles had just finished eating and was heading outside, about to get in his car, when he noticed the vehicle parked nearby.

"Whose car is that?" he asked Oscar, who was standing by waiting.

"It's Dr. White's. I saw him drive in earlier," Oscar replied respectfully.

"Kevin? What's he doing here?" Charles frowned, puzzled.

"Looks like he's here for Miss Carter. I heard she had a huge fever this morning and passed out," added Oscar.

Passed out?

Why the hell didn't anyone tell him that?