Chapter 1301

No.1

Was a common cold worth disturbing her?

"Should I ask Ethan to bring masks..." Nathan gasped.

Alexander’s glare silenced him.

Nathan resumed digging, regret weighing heavier than the stench.

Worse, Alexander was suffering alongside him.

How could Lord Alex tolerate this smell?

Oh... His nose was stuffed from the cold.

No.2

Nathan wanted to weep.

Bag after bag yielded nothing.

"Check the truck," Alexander pointed.

Nathan climbed in, hauling loaded bags back out.

An hour ago, he’d never believe Alexander Kingsley would personally rummage through trash.

All for some ordinary herbal medicine...

He swallowed complaints and kept searching.

No.3

The filth clung to his skin. His hands—accustomed to signing billion-dollar contracts—were now caked in grime.

Alexander’s hands—the ones that commanded a financial empire—were equally soiled.

"Is this it?" Alexander suddenly held up a bag.

Nathan turned, eyes widening. "Yes!"

The sealed plastic bag still contained the medicine boxes, though now stained.

As Nathan pondered cleaning methods, Alexander shrugged off his coat, wrapped the bag, and cradled it toward the elevator.

"Clean this up," was all he said.

No.4

"Lord Alex," Nathan caught up, "I—"

"The Africa project needs personnel. You’re assigned." Alexander didn’t look back.

Nathan stood frozen, his soul draining away.

The next day, Kingsley Group erupted in gossip.

Nathan Carter—Alexander’s most trusted aide—had been exiled to Africa for losing critical documents!

Rumors claimed the files were so important that Alexander personally supervised a two-hour trash search.

The usually unflappable Nathan committing such a blunder shocked everyone.

No.5

But the real mystery? What document warranted this extreme reaction?

Executives speculated wildly about which project it involved.

Lord Alex had endured the stench by the garbage truck himself.

This became Kingsley Group’s greatest unsolved mystery!

At dawn, Evelyn stepped out of her bedroom and gasped.

Alexander slept on her sofa.

She hadn’t heard him arrive.

No.6

As she nearly tripped over the coffee table, she spotted familiar medicine boxes.

Her own purchase from yesterday.

Turning, she noticed Alexander’s pallor—worse than the previous morning.

Kneeling, she reached for his forehead. His hand shot up, gripping her wrist.

"Ev..." His voice was barely audible.

Recognizing her, he released her.

"You’re still feverish?" Her palm met burning skin.

No.7

Alexander blinked wearily. "Colds... take time..." His voice remained rough.

After the trash search, he’d scrubbed himself raw.

Disinfected the medicine bag repeatedly.

Perhaps the night air had worsened his condition.

Exhausted, he’d collapsed here to avoid disturbing her.

He’d taken her medicine before sleeping.