My Darling Ex-Wife Is Unaware I’m Rich

Chapter 17: Echoes of Doubt

James stepped into the hospital lobby, just moments after Maxwell had left. He caught a glimpse of him sliding into the back seat of a sleek black SUV, a man in a tailored suit opening the door for him. It was clear the man wasn’t just a driver—he exuded authority, the kind that turned heads.

Tempted to approach, James took a step toward the vehicle, his curiosity burning, but as his eyes landed on the imposing figure of Jackson standing nearby, he stopped. Something about the man’s sharp gaze and controlled demeanor sent a warning signal through James’s gut. Without a word, he turned back toward the hospital.

Inside, when the receptionist informed him that Emma had been moved to an executive wing reserved for VIPs, his curiosity only deepened. Though he masked his reaction, the unexpected shift left him unsettled.

A nurse arrived to guide James through the exclusive wing. She was polite but distant, her demeanor professional. James couldn’t help but notice the contrast between this part of the hospital and the rest. The hallways were wider, the polished floors gleamed under soft lighting, and the faint aroma of fresh-cut flowers hung in the air, replacing the usual antiseptic smell.

“This is a far cry from the usual wards,” he murmured to the nurse.

She gave him a polite smile but didn’t respond, maintaining her silence as they walked.

When they reached Emma’s room, the door was ajar. James peeked inside and froze. The room was nothing like a typical hospital space. It was luxurious, more akin to a high-end hotel suite, complete with a sitting area and a private balcony offering a panoramic view of the city.

Emma sat upright in bed, her hair neatly brushed, her face pale but glowing with a faint smile.

“James!” she called out, her voice brightening as she spotted him. She stretched out her arms, and he immediately crossed the room, leaning down to hug her.

The embrace was brief but warm. He placed a gentle kiss on her forehead before sitting beside her.

“You look better,” he said, his hand covering hers.

“I feel better,” she replied softly, but the tiredness in her eyes told a different story.

James glanced around the opulent room. “This is… unexpected. How did you end up here?”

Emma shrugged lightly. “Mom said it was Dad’s idea. You know how he gets—always going overboard.”

James nodded, though something in her tone didn’t sit right. “So Richard pulled some strings?”

“That’s what she said,” Emma answered, her smile faltering for a moment.

Before James could question further, Fiona stepped into the room, carrying a bouquet of white lilies. Her presence filled the space with an air of formality.

“James, it’s lovely to see you,” Fiona said warmly, placing the flowers on a nearby table.

“Mrs. Hawthorn,” James greeted, rising briefly before sitting back down.

Fiona’s eyes lingered on them for a moment, her lips forming a polite but tight smile. “I’ll give you two some time,” she said, smoothing the front of her dress before leaving the room.

Once the door closed behind her, James turned back to Emma. “Have you heard from Maxwell recently?”

The question caused Emma’s smile to vanish. She pulled her hand away, her expression hardening. “Why are you asking about Maxwell?”

“I didn’t mean to upset you,” James said quickly, raising his hands in a gesture of peace. “It’s just… I saw him outside on my way in. He was in an expensive SUV, with a bodyguard. The whole setup seemed… different.”

Emma frowned, her fingers tightening around the blanket. “So? Maxwell probably got a job and is trying to look the part. Pretend to be someone he’s not. Trying to fit in.”

James hesitated, choosing his words carefully. “I don’t know, Emma. It didn’t feel like a show. It felt… real.”

Emma let out a short, humorless laugh. “You’re giving him too much credit. Maxwell can’t change. He’s the same lowlife he’s always been—just a new suit and a car he probably borrowed,” she said coldly.

James studied her, her sharp tone catching him off guard. Still, he couldn’t shake the image of Maxwell calm, composed, and radiating a quiet authority that didn’t match Emma’s description.

Outside the room, Fiona stood just out of sight, her hand resting against the doorframe. She had overheard the conversation, and her chest tightened with guilt.

It was Maxwell—not Richard—who had ensured Emma’s stay in the VIP wing. His money, his influence, and his insistence had placed her here. Fiona had told Emma it was Richard’s doing, knowing full well that Emma’s bitterness toward Maxwell would never allow her to accept his help.

Fiona’s gaze shifted toward James. He seemed attentive and caring, yet something about him felt hollow. His affection lacked the depth, the kind of passion Fiona believed her daughter deserved.

She sighed quietly. Emma had chosen James, convinced he was the stable partner she needed, but Fiona couldn’t ignore the nagging feeling that Emma’s heart had never fully let go of Maxwell.

Back in the room, James reached for Emma’s hand again. His touch was gentle, but there was an undercurrent of insecurity in his voice. “I only asked because I care about you. I just don’t want Maxwell trying to… win you back or something.”

Emma sighed, her expression softening. “I appreciate that, James. But Maxwell isn’t my concern anymore. I chose you because you’re the man I need—the man who’s everything Maxwell couldn’t be.”

Her words were firm, but as James nodded, the unease in his chest didn’t dissipate.

When Fiona returned to the room later, Emma was lying in bed, her eyes closed but her breathing uneven, as though she were deep in thought rather than asleep. James sat by the window, his gaze distant, lost in his own swirling emotions.

Fiona smiled politely as she entered, but her mind was a whirlwind of doubts. She wanted to protect Emma from pain, but the weight of the secret she carried made her question her choice to stay silent.

Emma, her eyes shut, wrestled with her thoughts. James’s words lingered, stirring something she hadn’t felt in years: doubt. Could Maxwell really have changed?

She found herself revisiting memories she thought she had buried—the early days of her love with Maxwell, when their world had been full of passion and promise. She had known who he was when she married him, and it hadn’t mattered then.

But her family’s relentless disapproval had worn her down, turning her against him. The rift had grown over time, breeding resentment. She had refused to have a child with him, letting the chasm widen until their love was unrecognizable.

Now, though, an unsettling question took root in her mind. What if Maxwell had turned his life around? What if the man James had seen wasn’t a facade?

Emma opened her eyes, staring at the ceiling as her heart twisted. She had chosen James, hadn’t she?

And yet, as the shadows deepened in the room, a whisper of doubt lingered.

Had she made the right choice?