The Price of Late Realization and Neglecting Your Loved One

Sienna's POV

But as I thought about Howard's concern, my mind wandered to less innocent ideas.

"If that Skinflint dares to treat me like that jerk Lance, I swear I’ll marry him just to ruin his family for as long as I live!”

“Done ranting?”

The familiar voice made me freeze on the spot.

“S-sir? Why are you here in person?”

Ignoring the pain in my back, I scrambled to sit up, my guilt making it impossible to meet his eyes. Surely, he didn’t know I was calling him Skinflint, right?

Howard saw me wince and stepped closer to help.

“Didn’t you call me to handle the situation?”

Gripping his hand, I instantly broke into a cold sweat.

I was nervous, but I tried to play it cool. “Lance and his fiancée trashed my house—”

But before I could repeat my words, he cut me off. “I heard it. I’ll take care of it. Focus on recovering first.”

Over the next few days, to my utter disbelief, Howard took it upon himself to look after me at the hospital.

“Sir, really, compensation is enough. You don’t need to go this far,” I mumbled as he was slicing fruit for me.

He paused, the knife hovering mid-air. “You’re sure about that?”

His gaze carried a strange intensity, making me hesitate. Before I could respond, he finished cutting the fruit and—horror of horrors—reached for my personal laundry to wash it.

Panicking, I shot out of bed. “I’ll do it myself!”

I moved so quickly that I stumbled straight into his arms. Luckily, he caught me, careful to avoid the bandages on my back.

“Take care of yourself,” he said gently, holding me in place.

I felt trapped, my words tumbling out in frustration. “Look, I shouldn’t have called you names, but what Lance did isn’t something a few days of care can make up for.”

There was no denying it: even rich people could be stingy.

This cold, ruthless businessman—known for his cutthroat deals—was now trying to save money by doing my laundry? I half-expected that if I let him, he’d fire me and blacklist me from the industry as payback for my “care.”

Thankfully, I decided to set the record straight. Surely, now that everything was out in the open, Howard wouldn’t go back on his word, right?

While I was stewing in my thoughts, a male nurse came in to change the bandages on my back.

But Howard grabbed the tray and dismissed the nurse.

“Lie down. Take it off,” he said flatly.

I stared at him, dumbfounded.

Every word made sense individually, but together? Not so much.

“What the hell, Skinflint? What are you trying to pull?”

Oops. My inner thoughts slipped out.

His face turned red—actually red—all the way to his ears. It was the first time I’d seen him look flustered.

“I’ll find a female nurse,” he muttered before practically bolting to the nurses’ station.

Sure enough, he brought back a female nurse to handle it, but for the next few days, he continued to look after me with meticulous care.

On the day I was discharged, he insisted on driving me home. As I mentally prepared how to ask for proper compensation, the car stopped in front of an unfamiliar villa.

“Boss, this isn’t my house,” I said, confused.

“I know. Your house is being renovated after the damage,” he replied matter-of-factly.

Renovated? That was news to me.

Before I could protest, he was already unloading my luggage and carrying it inside.

The villa was enormous, yet eerily devoid of servants. After showing me around, Howard headed to the kitchen to cook.

Having missed work for five days, I felt guilty about slacking off. After inhaling the meal he prepared, I forced myself to catch up on a project for my boss.

When I finally handed him the proposal, he frowned deeply as he read through it.

“Are you trying to write a novel?” he asked, his tone exasperated.

I clenched my fists, seething silently.

“Come here. I’m not going to eat you,” he added when he saw me take two cautious steps back.

As I stood frozen, he rubbed his temples with an air of resigned patience.