How the Ice King Became my Doting Billionaire Husband

Hospital.

When Barclay and Fletcher arrived at the hospital, the situation was dire.

After receiving a distressing call from Adelaide, Barclay, fearing he couldn't rouse Fletcher quickly enough over the phone, had shown up at his doorstep, insisting they head to the hospital together. Fletcher trailed behind, his pace leisurely and unbothered.

Barclay, on the other hand, moved with urgency, unable to contain his worry. "Fletcher, hurry up, will you? Adelaide said Jethro's not doing great. We need to get a move on."

But Fletcher remained unfazed, his tone casual as he quipped, "Oh, Barclay, always the hopeless romantic, eh? Chasing after someone who doesn't see you. You know where that leads? Nowhere." "Fletcher! What are you on about? We're just friends helping each other out."

"You naive soul," Fletcher shook his head, "Just a heads-up, don't take everything Adelaide says at face value."

"What's that supposed to mean? Adelaide's not a bad person. We've known her for years; she's practically family. We're supposed to help each other."

Unbeknownst to Fletcher, Adelaide had asked Barclay for a hefty sum to cover medical expenses. His caution stemmed not from this incident but from a longstanding belief that Adelaide was too cunning, a trait he found unsettling despite her having saved their friend Stuart years ago. While he never interfered in Stuart's love life, given Stuart's clear-headedness in matters of the heart until Morwenna came along, he couldn't help but worry about Barclay, whose judgment he found questionable.

"You don't get it, do you? Understand women, keep your distance from women, and most importantly, stay away from trouble," Fletcher advised.

Barclay muttered under his breath, "We'll see how you fare when you meet someone you actually care about."

Their conversation continued as they made their way to Jethro's room.

Inside, Violet was tending to Jethro with a mother's gentle touch, a stark contrast to her usual sharp demeanor. At the sight of Barclay, however, her eyes flashed with anger, and she threw a towel into the basin with a snap. "What are you doing here? You're the reason my son's in this condition. What do you want, you monster?"

Barclay stepped back, guilt-ridden, as Fletcher observed Jethro's injuries, his expression hardening. "Are we going to help Jethro or not? You said he was in bad shape."

Violet was confused; she thought Jethro was improving, awaiting surgery from a team of prestigious international doctors, who, despite their arrogance, showed immense respect at the mention of Dr. Fletcher Vaughn's name. This realization made her reconsider her anger towards Barclay, acknowledging Fletcher's medical expertise.

"Dr. Vaughn, your timing couldn't be better. Jethro's been feeling unwell these past few days..."

Her explanation was cut short by the alarming beeps of the monitors. Jethro's breathing machine sent out distress signals, leaving Violet in a state of panic.

Screaming for help, she cried, "Doctor! Somebody help my son, please! What's happening to him?"

Fletcher stepped forward with a commanding presence, "Move aside."

In that moment, Violet realized the best doctor was already by her son's side.